Amulet Books

Not-Triss had to run. Everything was an enemy. She was shaking like a flag in the wind

Not-Triss managed to find her own tongue again.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was still hoarse from the scream, and fluted strangely, like a breeze in a chimney flue. ‘I’m not Triss. I thought I was – I wanted to be – I tried to be – but it wasn’t good enough. I can’t be her. I’m something else, and I can’t help it. And when they found out I wasn’t their little girl, they tried to burn me. They thought it would bring their daughter back, but it won’t. It will only kill me

It is pitiable,’ murmured Mr Grace sadly, as if answering an unspoken thought. ‘Its instinct is to tug at the heart, even after the mask has slipped. Like a cuckoo trying to sing.’