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Stellan’s head turned towards the sound. His fangs dropped. “Adrian.”

A second blow struck the gate. The dead vines wrapped around it jerked to life and drove black roots into the wall.

The silver path moved.

It narrowed behind me while the vines in the garden leaned over it.

I pulled my hand away from the basin. “The path is closing behind me. The black light is spreading from the gate, and the vines nearest the basin are moving first. I can reach the low wall on my right.”

“Get off it. Step onto the low wall to your right. The black light is using the path to find you.”

I climbed onto the wall as a thorned vine swept across the space where my ankles had been. It struck the paving hard enough to crack the stone.

More vines slid out of the beds. They had stopped watching. Now they were hunting.

I took out the knife.

Stellan gripped the doorway. The silver ward burned under his palm, but he didn’t move back. “Adrian is pushing power through the outer seal. He’s teaching the garden to treat your blood as an intruder. Don’t let the thorns hold you. If they taste enough blood, they’ll strengthen the false command.”

“How do I stop it?”

“The original ward is still in the middle stone. Your blood can reach it, but you must put it on the silver crown yourself. Use the smallest cut you can and tell Harrowmere who you are. Give the garden one plain command.”

The basin stood three metres away. Two thick vines now covered the path between us. Another curled around its base and dragged itself towards the silver carving.

A blow struck the outer gate again. One hinge bent inwards.

Adrian didn’t need to enter. He only needed the garden to hurt me while Stellan watched.

“Shit. The route to the basin is blocked. I can reach the next wall, but the last vine is wrapped around the crown.”

Stellan’s gaze swept the beds. “The roses react to movement first. Throw something towards the gate, then move the other way. Don’t wait for me to count you in. Go when you see the opening.”

I pulled off my coat with one hand. A vine snapped towards my sleeve, and I cut through its thinner end before it could wind around my wrist.

The blade worked. That mattered more than how many others were coming.

I bunched the coat and threw it towards the outer gate.

Every rose turned.

The vines followed a heartbeat later, striking at the coat as it landed. I jumped down from the wall and ran for the basin.

A thorn caught the back of my jumper. The fabric tightened across my throat. I twisted out of it, leaving a strip of wool hanging from the vine, and drove the knife into the thick stem wrapped around the crown.

The blade sank halfway through. Black liquid ran over my fingers.

I used both hands and dragged the knife sideways. The stem split and fell from the basin.

The rest of the garden swung back towards me.

“Bryony, fucking move.” Stellan’s voice stayed controlled, although the stone cracked under his grip. “Your name. Your blood. Your command.”

A scratch across my knuckle was already bleeding. I pressed it to the silver crown.

Cold shot up my arm. For one second, the garden filled my head with the scrape of roots and Adrian’s pressure against the gate. He wanted it to close. Harrowmere wanted to know which blood belonged inside.

I knew that answer.