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“
Remember
that
you
’
re
a
duke
’
s
son
,
”
Jessica
said
.
She
whirled
and
strode
from
the
room
in
a
dry
swishing
of
skirt
.
The
door
closed
solidly
behind
her
.
Paul
faced
the
old
woman
,
holding
anger
in
check
.
“
Does
one
dismiss
the
Lady
Jessica
as
though
she
were
a
serving
wench
?
”
A
smile
flicked
the
corners
of
the
wrinkled
old
mouth
.
“
The
Lady
Jessica
was
my
serving
wench
,
lad
,
for
fourteen
years
at
school
.
”
She
nodded
.
“
And
a
good
one
,
too
.
Now
,
you
come
here
!
”
The
command
whipped
out
at
him
.
Paul
found
himself
obeying
before
he
could
think
about
it
.
Using
the
Voice
on
me
,
he
thought
.
He
stopped
at
her
gesture
,
standing
beside
her
knees
.
“
See
this
?
”
she
asked
.
From
the
folds
of
her
gown
,
she
lifted
a
green
metal
cube
about
fifteen
centimeters
on
a
side
.
She
turned
it
and
Paul
saw
that
one
side
was
open
—
black
and
oddly
frightening
.
No
light
penetrated
that
open
blackness
.
“
Put
your
right
hand
in
the
box
,
”
she
said
.
Fear
shot
through
Paul
.
He
started
to
back
away
,
but
the
old
woman
said
:
“
Is
this
how
you
obey
your
mother
?
”
He
looked
up
into
bird
-
bright
eyes
.
Slowly
,
feeling
the
compulsions
and
unable
to
inhibit
them
,
Paul
put
his
hand
into
the
box
.
He
felt
first
a
sense
of
cold
as
the
blackness
closed
around
his
hand
,
then
slick
metal
against
his
fingers
and
a
prickling
as
though
his
hand
were
asleep
.
