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“Miss McCleethy, there is something I must confess,” I say, still staring at the floor. “I cannot enter the realms. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

I force myself to meet her gaze. “I’ve tried, but the power has left me. I was afraid to tell you. I’m not who you thought me to be. I’m sorry.”

“But I thought you’d bound the magic to yourself.”

“I thought I had, too. But I was wrong. Or it wouldn’t take in me after all.”

“I see,” she says.

For the longest moment of my life, McCleethy holds my gaze while I try desperately not to flinch, and the clock measures our unspoken hate in ticks and tocks. At last, she turns her attention to a small ceramic angel figurine perched near the edge of a side table.

“Miss Doyle, if you’re lying, I’ll know in time. Such power can’t easily be hidden.”

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointment,” I say.

“Not half as sorry as I am.”

She tries to move the angel back from the table’s edge and nearly drops it. It wobbles precariously, then stops.

“May I go to bed now?” I ask, and she dismisses me with a wave of her hand.

“Gemma. Pssst!” It’s Felicity. She and Ann have hidden in Ann’s bed. She pops up like a jack-in-the-box in hair ribbons. “What happened? Did McCleethy bite you with her fangs?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I say, pulling at my boots. I loosen the tiny loops from the hooks. “She wanted me to become one with the Order and follow their training.”

“She wanted you to give them all your power, you mean,” Felicity scoffs.

“Did she mention taking us into the Order?” Ann asks.

“No,” I say, leaving my stockings on the floor in a heap. “She only wanted me.”

Felicity’s eyes narrow. “You told her no, then?” It is not so much a question as a demand.

“I told her I no longer held the power and that I couldn’t enter the realms at all.”

Felicity snorts in delight. “Well done, Gemma!”

“I don’t think she believed me,” I warn. “We shall have to be very careful.”

“She’ll be no match for us.” Felicity bounds out of Ann’s bed. “Till morning, mes amies!”

“Mawah meenon ne le plus poohlala,” I say with an affected bow.

Felicity laughs. “What, pray tell, was that?”

“My French. I daresay it’s improving.”

Ann falls asleep within minutes, and I am left to stare at the cracks branching off left and right in the ceiling. What if Miss McCleethy is right? What if the realms don’t choose my friends or the forest folk? Whom will they blame for that? Then again, Miss McCleethy tried to force me to take her into the realms once before. She’d say or do anything to return the realms to the Order.

So many decisions, so many responsibilities, and no clear path. Out my window, the woods are dark save for the firelight coming from the Gypsy camp. There is one matter I can put to rest tonight, and I will have answers about that, at least.

I creep down the stairs, taking care not to make a single sound. The doors to the great hall are ajar. A lamp still burns inside. I hear whispering voices, and I crouch low, listening.

“You’re certain?”

“It’s the only way. We can’t leave it to chance. The risk is too great.”

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