An inkblot bloomed on the page adjacent to the spell. The mage's quill had still been in his hand when sleep overtook him. He seemed to have been scrawling notes in the margins: theories as to why this particular spell had failed to awaken Aurora. The curse, it seemed, had involved a particularly nasty form of sacrificial magic.

''But this isn't so bad, Will,'' Aurora enthused. ''We aren't trying to wake people who are under a curse. That was just me. Everyone else here is sleeping because of the fairy's much more ordinary magic. You can do this spell for them and it should work, right?''

Will blanched. "I mean, in theory, I suppose, yes,'' he affirmed. ''But you seem to forget that I am an apprentice wizard, my lady. I have barely mastered basic conjuring, and to be honest, I am not even very good at that. Mostly I charm wine-stains from the mage's robes, and blast rats that are trying to get into the stock closet. That's the only reason I knew how to blast those rose bushes.''

At once, Aurora understood the situation. Magic was a rare personal attribute in the realm these days. Once upon a time, mages and witches were commonplace – their services available not only to powerful rulers, but also to wealthy merchants and even, occasionally, the common folk. But as greed and corruption had flourished, magic, so incompatible in spirit, had leeched from the land.

To find any sort of protégé, a mage might have to accept one with very little natural magic running through their veins.

''Look, Will,'' she said, holding him firmly by his shoulders and fixing him with her eyes. ''You are just going to have to try. These people are depending on you. I am depending on you.''

They gathered together the items that they needed and made their way to the very heart of the palace: the throne room. Here the Lord Chancellor dozed in the gloom, curled up in a fetal position on the dais, thumb in mouth.

He looked so ridiculous that Aurora giggled as she helped Will draw a chalk pentacle on the floor. Together they placed the sacred stones in each angle and lit the candles. Will had borrowed the mage's second set of robes to look more stately for the occasion, but they hung from his meagre frame and he looked rather like a mouse emerging from a potato sack.

When they were ready, Aurora settled herself at a safe distance on the edge of the dais.

"You can't watch!'' said Will, outraged.

''Oh? Will it ruin the magic?''

''No. I am just embarrassed, that's all. I told you I am not very good at this.''

''How about I close my eyes then?'' she asked.

That placated him and he twitched his fingers in her direction to indicate that she should move even further away – right by the Chancellor's feet.

Aurora closed her eyes and listened.

''Mm, magicae in mane...,'' Will stuttered ''Aperi o... ocolus Aurora''. Aurora's eyelids fluttered at her name, but she recognized it as the word for "Dawn.'' Will was repeating the spell now, sounding more demanding, more forceful. After the third time, he stopped.

Aurora felt behind her till she grasped the Lord Chancellors pantaloons. She poked his leg to check. He hadn't moved. Opening her eyes she saw Will, sitting dejectedly in the middle of the pentacle.

''It will never work, my lady. I am just not powerful enough.''

''Oh stop it, Will!'' she snapped. ''One way or another we are going to sort this mess out. If it's not this way then I will have to go and find another magic-user somewhere out in the world who can help us, but I am not just leaving these people here for a hundred years. It is enough of a shame to me that my father did. Now stand up and try again. I am right here this time.'' She stood behind him, just outside the lines of the pentacle and he began to chant.

''Magicae in mane. Aperi oculus Aurora. Magicae in mane. Aperi oculus Aurora.'' Nothing was happening, and she could see Will's motivation was waning. She couldn't let him give up, so she began to chant alongside him, whispering the words quietly in encouragement.

''Magicae in mane. Aperi oculus Aurora.'' A fragile golden haze began to appear from inside the circle. Granular light spinning slowly in a loose vortex. On the dais, the Chancellor stirred and a grunted half-snore escaped his lips. Aurora's eyes widened and she froze. Was this really happening?!

The light disappeared as fast as it had arisen and Will fell silent, his eyes wide.

''Why are you stopping, Will!'' Aurora shouted. ''You were doing it! Didn't you see that? It was working!''

"Yes. I saw that My Lady,'' Will answered quietly, "but it wasn't me who was doing that. It was you.''

''It was you Will!'' she pressed. "I saw it! The light was right there in the pentacle.''

''My Lady,'' Will looked awed. ''Your Majesty, I know what it feels like to work magic. You get a buzzing feeling travelling throughout your body. It travels right into your hands and sometimes they even light up. I? I have none of these things.''

He looked at her questioningly and both their gazes fell to Aurora's fingertips, which were glowing very faintly golden in the pre-dawn dark. Ebbing back into her arms, she could still feel the hum that had spread through her as she had recited the words of the spell. Now she was conscious of it, she felt energized and alive. It felt like an old friend who she had thought she might never speak to again, but had returned.

Somewhere... out beyond the thorn bushes the barest sunshine was peeping over the horizon. Aurora could hear the sound of joyous birdsong in the very tips of the briars. They were calling for the morning.