She stood on tiptoe to look over the edge as we soared above the construction for the new cathedral and across the green hills toward Yurt. Our shadow darted up and down the slopes below us.

“When I grow up and become a wizard I’m going to be able to fly like this myself,” she said confidently. This had been something else I had been hoping to discuss with Theodora today-the question of when and how the daughter of a wizard and a witch should start learning magic. “Why do you think Mother always makes me wear blue?” she added.

“Because it looks so good with your eyes,” I suggested. Antonia’s eyes had in fact never changed color, remaining a brilliant sapphire blue.

“I don’t think so,” she said, thinking it over. “I think it’s only because Mother’s own favorite color is blue. My favorite color is yellow. What’s yours?”

“Blue,” I said, thinking I would have to buy Antonia something yellow to wear.

I had expected that she would sleep on the couch in the outer room of my chambers, but Gwennie would not hear of it. “A little girl alone with a wizard?” she said. “You’d probably have a nightmare and turn her into a frog by mistake. Of course, you’d be very sorry in the morning, but think how she’d feel!”

Antonia, holding my hand, looked up at me and laughed, but with the slightest questioning look, as though wondering if Gwennie was right and she might unexpectedly find herself an amphibian.

I had the vague feeling that Royal Wizards in other kingdoms were treated with more awe and respect than to be accused by the castle staff of doing transformations by accident. “I wouldn’t do anything to harm her, Gwennie,” I tried to argue. This would have been easier if I had dared tell anyone Antonia was my daughter, but the queen was the only person in the castle who knew. “And you can’t very well put a little girl like this in a room by herself.”