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“Yes, Gemma will sort it all out, won’t you?” Pippa says, dragging Felicity toward the maze again.

Creostus eyes Wendy hungrily. “I should like to take you with me and make you my queen. Have you ever ridden on a centaur’s back?”

Mae pulls Wendy away. “’Ave a care, sir. We are ladies.”

“Yes, I know. Ladies. My favorite sort.”

“Creostus, if you’ve done with your suit of Miss Wendy, I shall accompany you to Philon,” I interrupt, wondering what is so urgent that Philon has sent for me.

Creostus’s booming laugh leaves gooseflesh upon my arms. He paces close to me. “Jealous, Priestess? Do you wish to compete for my affections? I should like to see that.”

“I’m sure you would. But you will die first and so let us journey to Philon, if you please.”

“She worships me,” he says with a wink, and I have the urge to put a bonnet on his head and paint him dancing to the pipes to hang on a fashionable lady’s wall.

“Creostus, do we ride or not?”

He brushes my body with his. “Desperate to be alone with me, are you?”

“I shall turn you into a ladybug. See if I won’t.”

With seemingly no effort at all, Creostus swoops me up onto his back. As we ride toward the forest, I clutch his waist for dear life. Whatever the reason for this visit, it can’t be good. Down below in the river, I see that Gorgon steams ahead, keeping pace with us.

No, this isn’t good at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THERE IS A DIFFERENT AIR TO THE FOREST TODAY. THE creatures do not loll about. The children do not play their games. Instead, they are hard at work. Some whittle wood into sharp points. Others test crude crossbows. A hail of arrows screams over my head, making me duck. They find their targets in the soft bark of distant trees. Gorgon slides to the shore, and I run to her.

“Gorgon, what is the matter?”

“I cannot say, Most High. But there is trouble.”

Philon strides toward us in a magnificent coat of twigs and leaves with a high collar and sleeves that end in points near the tips of those long fingers. The catlike eyes narrow at the sight of me.

“You have betrayed us, Priestess.”

“What do you mean? Betrayed you? How?”

The forest folk gather around Philon. Some carry spears. Neela hops onto Creostus’s back, her lips curled in disgust.

“You have been seen at the Temple in secret talks with the Hajin,” Philon says, accusing me.

“I haven’t!” I protest.

Philon and Creostus share a glance. Is Philon tricking me? Is this a ruse or a test of some sort?

“Do you deny that you have paid visits to the Temple?”

I’ve been to see Circe, but I cannot tell them that.

“I have been to the Temple,” I say carefully. “That is where we shall join hands in alliance, is it not?”

Neela climbs onto a stump and crouches down. As she talks, her hair shimmers from blue to black and back again. “She will join with them and betray us for the Order! They will build the runes once again!” she shouts. “While we toil here, the filthy Hajin reign over the poppy fields and we are forced to bargain for their crop.”

Discontent ripples through the assembly.

Neela smirks. “While Philon has us wait, the Hajin will enter into secret alliance with the Order. It will give them all the power. Things will be as they always have been, and once again, it is the forest folk who will suffer.”

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