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Even though she’s smaller, her stride is quick. And before long, I’ve got a stitch in my side demanding attention—and for my steps to slow.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

She’s been watching me out of the corner of her eye—pretending not to, of course. But now she fully looks at me, and her lips pull into a smirk. “Names have power, you know.”

I incline my chin. I’m sure they do, although I’m not sure what she thinks I would do with it. Maybe it’s the fear of the unknown that keeps her mouth shut. And if she doesn’t want to answer, then I won’t give her anything of me either.

It makes me wonder how many visitors this coven has had. In the last year, in the last decade. As far as I can tell, this town is tiny and quiet. I’ve never heard my mother mention a coven on the edge of Canada.

We go down a side street, into a residential neighborhood. All the homes here remind me of the cottage. Warm, small, cozy. It’s clear that none of them are large spaces, but their owners care for what they have.

I tip my head back and focus on the stars.

Just like home, they’re brilliant. Unhindered by city lights and smog, even the faint ones shine. It still takes me a minute to pick out the familiar constellations. To orient myself amongst them from this new location.

That thought alone is unsettling. That something so distant can be so similar and yet wildly different. It creates an ache in my chest, and I hate the longing for home. All I want to do is go home. So, so badly.

“Here,” the girl says.

Her voice jars me, and I snap back to attention. We’re in front of a two-story home. Unlike the rest on the street, every light blazes through the windows. It’s the middle of the night, but I’m not an unexpected visitor.

She climbs the porch and disappears inside. She leaves the door open, presumably an invitation.

I hike up the steps. My bag suddenly feels like a million pounds. The amulet at my chest doesn’t react, and I keep pushing forward. My steps slow. There’s a new twinge in my muscles, and fatigue wraps around me. There seems to be twenty steps up to the top of the porch, not five.

This is important, tired or not.

I make it to the doorway and press my hand to the frame. I actually have to catch my breath, to force my lungs to expand. I steel myself against the pressure and grit my teeth. With a measured step, I cross the threshold.

The feeling dissipates like it was never there. The tired soreness, the weight of my pack, the way it was hard to breathe. It all vanishes.

A ward.

How dumb can I be? Did my mother teach me nothing? If I was paying more attention, I might’ve detected the ward before walking blindly through it.

“Well done,” someone says.

The foyer is brightly lit, with stairs directly ahead of me. To the left of the stairs is a hallway that goes to the back of the house. Another wider hall leads to the right, to a set of French doors that are currently closed. There’s a room immediately to my left—a front room, maybe specifically for entertaining.

That’s where a different witch sits, smiling at me. She’s older than the teen. Her hair is dark, spun through with gray, and clipped back loosely at the nape of her neck. Her skin is dark, smooth, and unblemished. There’s an amulet around her neck, too, hanging over her black t-shirt and the bib of her overalls. Her stone is dark green with thin veins of white.

Jade.

“Foes cannot make it past the stairs,” she says mildly. “They tend to combust if they don’t turn back. It creates quite the mess.”

My brows pull down. Even on our darkest nights, my mother and I never had such a vicious spell guarding our cottage. Maybe we should’ve—things would’ve turned out differently.

“Do you often run into foes?” I ask.

She smiles. “No. But every few years, someone thinks they can come in and steal our power.”

What kind of place did my mother send me to? One with a strong coven, apparently.

“Sit, child.” She gestures to the chair across from her. “And tell me why you’re in our town.”

Not a question.

I go to the chair and sink into it, setting my bag between my feet. My skin prickles, but not from the use of magic. Nope, this is straight up nerves.