Chapter one
 

     Drystan Powston had loved Elizabeth Galoncryf for longer than he could remember. No, that wasn’t true. He remembered exactly the day. She had five years on her, and he, a worldly eight. Christmas dessert was being served, there must have been thirty people gathered around the table in the dining hall. His father, the steward, along with the butler and housekeeper, had ensured every dish from the soup to the boiled pig’s head had been served flawlessly.

     Not that Drystan saw any of the grand table whilst the main courses were presented, he was only eight, and being a nuisance in the kitchens.         Which meant he mostly heard the relieved chatter of the servants, and Galoncryf ordering the presence of his steward and housekeeper to join in the presentation of the Christmas pudding. Without hesitation, Drystan stood behind his father’s trousered legs and stole the chance to glimpse the lavish affair.

     The dining hall was darkened because many of the candles were snuffed for the guests to enjoy the pudding’s bright flames. Jewells and silks, lively laughter, clapping and delight lit the room instead, but Drystan only had eyes for the smallest member around the table: Elizabeth with spun gold for hair. She was brighter than any of the pudding’s dying flames.

     The guests who were preoccupied by wishing each other a merry Christmas paid no regard to the small boy whose eyes were widening with some magical wonder. Nor did they notice the young girl who crept towards the cooling pudding, reached two tiny hands right towards the very centre and shoved all fingers in before he could even gasp in amazement at her daring.

     That was thirteen years ago now, and nothing changed. Oh, the room they were in presently may be the kitchen and not that fine room, but no one paid he or Elizabeth any attention. They wouldn’t dare whilst the young mistress of the house was conducting her annual dessert desecration.

     ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed looking around the bustling kitchen. Pots and pans were precariously stacked for cleaning, and off to the side three servants dried the soup bowls and goblets. All the other servants wisely looked away. He was the only one who never could look anywhere else when it came to Elizabeth, no matter what mischief she waged, she fascinated him.

     ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Elizabeth eyed the pudding as if it was a mountain to be climbed, a treasure to be plundered, a dessert to soon be enjoyed.

     He wanted, just once, for her to look at him like that.