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“But that may be too late! She doesn’t know what she’s up against,” Fee begs. “We have to warn her!”

“Dear Pippa,” Ann echoes.Advertisement

I think of the burned garden, the bloodied flags we’ve seen marking the shore, the forest folk carried away. I would do anything to save Pip such a fate. But the risk is great. The Winterlands creatures could be lying in wait there. And for all I know, Pippa has joined with them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, turning away.

“You’re cruel!” Felicity screams after me. She starts to cry. I know I’ve done the right thing but I couldn’t feel worse about it, and I suppose that is part of what it is to lead.

I march beside Philon as the forest folk and the Hajin ready for battle. They carry weapons onto the ship. An Untouchable hoists a quiver of arrows onto his twisted back, and one of the forest creatures helps secure it. The centaurs offer their backs to whoever will ride.

Ann runs to me, out of breath.

“What is it?” I ask.

“She told me not to tell you, but I have to. It’s Felicity. She’s gone to warn Pippa.”

One of the small boats is missing.

“We have to go after her,” I say.

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“We can’t,” Kartik warns, but I’m already in motion.

“I won’t lose Fee. We need her. I need her,” I state.

“I’ll accompany you,” Miss McCleethy announces.

“And I as well,” Ann says.

Kartik shakes his head. “You’re mad if you think I’ll let you go without me.”

“Yes, I am mad. But you’ve known that for some time,” I say. He starts to object, and I silence him with a sudden kiss. “Trust me.”

Reluctantly, he lets me go, and the three of us push off in the remaining dinghy. Kartik stands on the shore, watching us drift out on the river. With the smoke and the fading flames behind him, he looks slightly unreal—a ghost, a flickering image in a magic-lantern show, a star falling to earth, a moment that can’t last.

I have the urge to turn the boat around and run back to him. But then the current catches us and we’re moving, carried swiftly toward the Borderlands and whatever waits for us there.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

THE SKY BLEEDS RED OVER THE WINTERLANDS. IT CASTS an eerie light on the Borderlands, turning it the colors of a bruise. In the distance, the castle nestles in its robe of vines, like a pale hand hidden in the folds of a dress. I’m relieved that it’s still intact.

“Do you see Fee anywhere?” I whisper.

“No,” Ann answers. “I don’t see anyone.”

Carefully, we part the thorns in the bramble wall and slip inside. Miss McCleethy takes in everything with a nervous glance. “You’ve been coming here?”

I nod.

She shivers. “What a dismal spot.”

“It was very merry for a while,” Ann says sadly.

We step quickly and quietly through the blue-tinged forest. The branches seem to be plucked of almost every berry, and what is left hangs in mealy clumps, forgotten. Maggots eat their way through the abandoned fruit. It makes my stomach turn.

Whoo-oot. Whoo-oot.

“What was that?” Miss McCleethy gasps.

“Don’t move,” I whisper.

We stay as still as statues. The call comes again.

Whoo-oot. Whoo-oot.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Pip’s voice.

She steps out from behind a tree and is quickly flanked by Bessie, Mae, Mercy, and others I’ve not seen before. They fan around her like soldiers, carrying torches. It’s as if every bit of breath has been knocked from me. I’m forced to keep my hands behind my back, out of sight, to hide their trembling. She has marked her face in the blue-black juice of the berries. The others wear similar markings that give their faces a skeletal appearance.

In the firelight, Pip’s eyes change from one state to the other, from violet to white, inviting to terrifying. “Hello, Gemma. What brings you here?”

“I—I was looking for Fee,” I say.

She frowns playfully. “You’ve lost her, have you? Tsk-tsk, Gemma. How careless. Well, I suppose you’ll have to come have a look inside, then. Follow me.”

Pippa takes us to her castle like a conquering queen. She’s still lovely. She has the magic working for her, but she has not shared much of it with her disciples from what I can see. They ride behind her, tattered and torn, their skin going gray and ruined.

“Bessie,” I start, and she gives me a sharp shove. pqdm.com