Prologue

The quality of her confines had improved little as the years had passed. The bed in which she spent the most part of her day was still regularly cleaned and laundered, but had not seen any repair since she had last tried hurling it through the tower window some two years previously. And despite the regular company of the birds that visited the eaves of her quarters in the spring, she lacked anything else that would be considered by anyone as comfort. In fact, were it not for the unannounced but welcome visits from her still loyal staff, Delaney would have given up on her measly existence some time ago.

She was especially grateful then, to those very few, human visitors that she received who were often prone to thankful bouts of 'forgetfulness'; the 'mistaken' leaving behind of the odd morsel of food or sundry item. The smuggling of these goods was a risk that she appreciated hugely, as she was very aware that it was hard to sneak even a small piece of fruit past the guards at the foot of the towers staircase, let alone the larger items which had found her way into her quarters – such as hairbrushes and clothing. Which is why Delaney was all the more surprised to find the footstool which had somehow managed to secure its way under her bed at sometime during the latest visit of her Nathaniel.

What was even trickier for her to comprehend however was not the illicit placement of an ornate oak, and gold trimmed item of furniture within her sleeping quarters, but the very fact that something had now begun to slowly peel away the velvet covering of the stool and crawl out from within it.

Not knowing quite what to do, Delaney leapt to her feet and made her way quickly towards the open window at the far side of the room, wrapped herself within the thick, tapestry curtains which draped loosely over the sandstone window sill and stayed there transfixed as a the beginnings of a little child levered itself out from the within footstools cavity and desperately tried to maintain its balance upon the unfamiliar surroundings of the dusty, wooden floor. Once it had gained its composure, the small, frail child edged itself slowly and shakily towards the cowering woman behind the curtain, with his arm outstretched and his hand open, gesturing slowly up and down, requesting her to stay calm.

Steadiness of mind was not a state that Delaney had found much trouble in maintaining in the past, but it was something that she was now finding extremely difficult to preserve. But slowly, regally and with some grace she carefully stepped out from behind the curtain and looked closely at the child who was still stumbling on its way, purposefully towards her.

As the seconds past, and her confidence grew she began to edge forward, placing her fingers gently over the still outstretched hand of the boy, smiling reassuringly as she did so; and then a spark of recognition flashed across her eyes,

'I knew that Nate's visit was special' she whispered to the child softly, 'I could sense that he had mischief in his eyes. But I never expected something as wondrous as you... my glorious little rescuer'.

And she hugged him closely. So close that she could faintly hear the mechanical whirring of his insides.