But no, she cannot think like that. If he knew, she'd be dead already. She isn't, so he mustn't be aware - and she will do everything in her power to make sure he never is.

She shifts a fraction, to display the hideous scars that ripple across the right side of her face. They have largely healed now, but it is quite clear that hair will never grow across the ugly pink welts that run in crooked lines across her right eye. The eye itself is unhurt, but the skin around it will always be marred, imperfect. Father does not like imperfections, but surely he will allow her this, when he is the one who created it? For those agonising few minutes, he was the artist and she the canvas; his harpy was the paintbrush, engaving beautiful, deadly art onto the tender young face of his daughter. It is a sign of her strength, that she survived pain and bloodloss that would have crippled a weaker filly. Whenever she catches sight of her reflection and sees those scars, they remind her that she is only alive because he allowed it. That she was only given permission to take her first wobbling steps because Father said so, and that at any moment he might revoke her right to life and finish off what he started that day in the forest.

If that's not enough to make a daughter devoted to her father, then Oizys doesn't know what is.

He says her name back to her - thank the heavens Mother gave them good, strong names, names of goddesses, names of queens - and she dips her scarred head in acknowledgement of it. He turns away, then, and disappointment bubbles in her chest - it is quickly replaced by relief, because if he hadn't found her satisfactory, he's sure she would know by now. He asks Ker's name, then, and it is the eagle's turn to puff up importantly at being addressed by him. "Her name is Ker. It is a name out of Mother's mythology; the singular of Keres, female spirits of death." The gargoyle turns to eyeball her companion, hoping that one day she will live up to her name and be feared for the death she brings. She is not much now, but neither is Oizys - one day they will be.

"She is not a harpy, but her mother was quite magnificent." All brown and black feathers, savagely hooked beak and a delightful crest upon the head; ah, yes, the mother was beautiful, and high expectations rest upon Ker's quivering shoulders. She falls silent - she is itching to ask how old Father was when he found his harpies, but she does not want to forget herself and overstep her boundaries.