“I’m no witch, but if I had to guess, whatever happened to you in that forest made you immune to the wards.” She frowned like this explanation dissatisfied her. “I’m Sorcha, by the way.”
“Briar.”
“Well, Briar, I said I’d give my brother a bollocking, but he isn’t here, so you’ll have to do. What the feck were you doing in those woods?”
The answer made Briar shock fully upright and startle Vatii off his shoulder. “The lichen!”
“The what?”
“I had a branch of lichen. Mossy fungus-y plant stuff? It was for a potion.”
“Ah, that. You were cradling it like a baby. It’s downstairs with your clothes.”
Briar blew a relieved sigh up into his fringe. At least the trip hadn’t been wasted. The horror of his escape from the wood and what it had said haunted him—if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the forest trying to consume him. Vines around his chest, soil slurping at his wounds. Vatii landed on his knee, and he stroked her feathers with a finger.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Not a bother. Stay as long as you need.”
“I won’t impose anymore, really. I should get back to my flat.”
He stood, relieved to feel floorboards underfoot, not moss. Favoring his sprained ankle, he followed Sorcha downstairs through a modest kitchen. It smelled of pumpkin and had open shelves crowded with mason jars of spices and foraged herbs. Pages of crayon art were stuck to the fridge with heart-shaped magnets. A television blared in an adjoining room, some sort of children’s program singing a song. Sorcha led Briar through a locked door into—
A shop. Like Briar’s, the flat Sorcha lived in was attached to a small shop. He recognized the glint of jewels, the shape of many bolts of cloth leaning against walls. This was the shop that had so enamored him during Gretchen’s tour.
Sorcha turned the lights on. “Normally, I’d let you out the side door, but the lamp’s broken, and I don’t want you tripping through our alley. I’ll let you out the front.”
“This is your store?” Briar asked.
“Yeah. Not much, but—” She cut herself short, eyeing Briar as he turned, taking in the store’s materials with hungry eyes. She went to the counter and pulled Briar’s cloak and lichen branch from behind it. She held them out to him.
“It’s a nice cloak.”
“Thanks.” Briar pulled it on. “I made it for my Rede party. Seemed a shame not to wear it more often.”
“You know—” Sorcha started to say.
Keys jingled in the door. Bells chimed as it opened to reveal the familiar source of Sorcha’s facial features. Rowan squeezed inside, shaking rain from his hair. When he saw Briar, he froze.
“Rowan?” Sorcha said. “What are you doing back?”
“You’re siblings,” Briar blurted. “Soyousaved me from the evil forest and carried me all the way to the clinic?” His grin faltered. “Shame I don’t remember it.”
His flirting left both of them stunned.
Eventually, Rowan said, “Good to see you’re all right.”
“Right as rain.” Briar didn’t want to recall his time in the forest, so he pointed at the container in Rowan’s hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh.” Rowan avoided Sorcha’s eye as he set the container on the counter next to Briar. “Just soup. To help you feel better.”
Briar picked up the container. It warmed his hands, a hearty mix of vegetables and pasta sloshing inside. He just caught the thunderstruck look Sorcha cast Rowan before she recovered herself to say, “None for me, though!”
“You hate soup,” said Rowan defensively. He was saved from further explanation when a creaking door announced the presence of an eavesdropper.
A ginger-haired girl in footie pajamas stood in the door to the kitchen, staring at Briar wide-eyed.
“Ciara,” Sorcha said. “Go see your da.”
