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“We still have time. Your mothers are not strong enough to make their way here, not yet,” said Hazel, contemplating the crows along with Circe as if she got her information from them.
“Yes, we have time. More time than we need, really. There’s still so much you don’t know. And we want you with us when you learn the truth. We want to help,” said Primrose.
Circe had thought she was coming here to help Primrose and Hazel. She thought they would be alone, frightened, and lost. But it turned out she was the one who was lost. It was she who needed help. And she was thankful the witches were here with her. Thankful to be home.
This is my home. Circe felt for the first time as if she was in a place she truly belonged. She felt at home at Morningstar, and in her mothers’ house, of course, but this place was different. She felt like she truly belonged in the dead woods. She felt a connection to it, by blood and by right. This was where she would stay. This was the place she would call home. It comforted and frightened her at once.
“That’s right, my dear. You are home. This is your land as much as it is ours. You were born of Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha. You will inherit the dead woods after your mothers pass,” said Hazel.
This was all too much. Circe was angrier with her mothers than she had ever been before. There was so much they had been keeping from her. So many secrets.
“Why didn’t they grow up here? Why didn’t my mothers tell you who they were when they first came here so many years ago, when you were all girls together?”
Jacob, who had been sitting quietly in his chair, finally spoke. The sudden sound of his deep voice startled the witches and Snow, who had forgotten he was there. “Manea sent our daughters away. But you’re right, Circe, my granddaughter. There is much more to the story.”
Circe hadn’t even put that together. She was too worried about Snow and her mothers. She felt muddled, confused, and overwhelmed. Jacob was her grandfather.
“Of course you’re muddled and confused, sweet Circe. Jacob understands,” said Primrose, reading Circe’s mind. “This is too much for even the strongest of witches. And you are the strongest witch of the age. Even stronger than your mothers. Stronger than our mother, and her mother before her. You have the power to stop your mothers, Circe. We just hope you choose the right way.”
Jacob got up from his seat and put his hand on Circe’s cheek. “Oh, how I wish Manea had your strength and power. None of this might have happened. I wish I had never allowed our daughters to be sent away only to come back and destroy everything.”
Primrose took Jacob’s hands tenderly in hers. “Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha were meant to take this path no matter. This isn’t your fault, Jacob,” she said.
“How do you know all of this? It’s uncanny. Witches or not, you know so much,” said Circe, looking at Primrose and wondering how it was possible they could all know so much about her and her mothers.
“Everything can be heard in the place between if you listen hard enough,” Primrose said. “We had nothing else to do but listen. As your mothers were always behind the mirrors, watching, we were always behind the veil, listening.”
The idea sent chills through Circe. And she suddenly felt afraid her mothers were listening to them now. “Do you think my mothers are in the place between? Do you think they are listening?”
“I do,” said Hazel. “I feel them, but they are still very far away.”
Nanny watched the Fairy Godmother flit about, getting everything ready for the fairy council meeting. She was putting out the tea and little cakes and arranging cookies decorated with pink frosting. And she was setting out her best preserves for the biscuits. If Nanny hadn’t known better, she’d have said her sister was preparing for a tea party and not making a battle plan to stop the odd sisters from trying to destroy the Fairylands.
“Sister, can you get the pink rose-pattern tea set? I have so much to do, and I could use some help,” said the Fairy Godmother as she set a plate of cherry tarts on the table. Nanny conjured the set with a wave of her hand. “I wish you would use your wand!” said the Fairy Godmother, giving her sister a nasty look, or at least the closest thing to a nasty look the Fairy Godmother could manage. If anyone else had seen the look on her face, they wouldn’t have guessed she was cross with Nanny. “It’s what a real fairy would do.”
“Why should I use a wand when I don’t need to?” Nanny was trying not to be annoyed with her sister, but since they’d been back to the Fairylands, her sister was becoming more fairylike by the day.
“And don’t forget to make your wings visible!” the Fairy Godmother squealed.
Nanny sighed. “Yes, Sister.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Sister! Did you know there are humans who have wished with all of their hearts they had fairy wings? And here you are, dreading wearing them!” said the Fairy Godmother, tutting at her sister.
“I’d happily give them to someone who wants them more than I do. You know that. Now let’s please change the subject before we become even more cross wit
h each other,” said Nanny.
The Fairy Godmother conjured lovely plates, doilies, and a beautiful four-layer pink-and-blue cake. “Yes, of course you’re right! Have you spoken to Tulip? Did she mention if Oberon would be attending the meeting?”
“She didn’t say. They’ve both been occupied with their adventures.”
“I don’t know about that young lady! Romping about with the likes of the Tree Lords. What will her parents think?”
“I fear this is another topic we won’t agree upon, dear sister.”
“Fine! Maybe we should just focus on getting ready for the meeting. Just pop some bows on the backs of these chairs, then, won’t you? The other fairies will be here any moment!”
“Bows?” Nanny was aghast.
