Sabriel awoke to soft candlelight, the warmth of a feather bed, and silken sheets, delightfully smooth under heavy blankets. A fire burned briskly in a red-brick fireplace and wood-paneled walls gleamed with the dark mystery of well-polished mahogany. A blue-papered ceiling with silver stars dusted across it, faced her newly opened eyes. Two windows confronted each other across the room, but they were shuttered, so Sabriel had no idea what time it was, no more than she had any remembrance of how she’d got there. It was definitely Abhorsen’s House, but her last memory was of fainting on the doorstep.

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