“Do you need to go back and help?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been sprung. Is there a part two for this plan?” His brows raise and that warmth curls back into my belly with a vengeance.

“Of course.” I gesture to Nightshade and Bastion, all saddled and ready to ride. “We’re going to break into the Ryder botanical gardens.” There’s a pause where Lincoln’s face is unreadable, then his mouth winds into a smile.

“Nice.”

We gallop over the darkened countryside to a great greenhouse that’s three stories tall and made entirely of glass. A huge tree pops through the building’s ceiling, ending in a massive canopy of leaves.

“Here we are.” I slide off Nightshade and try the door. It’s locked.

I frown. “Well, I should’ve seen that coming.”

Lincoln turns to Nightshade “Do you mind helping us out, girl?”

The horse whinnies and the doorknob disappears. That’s right; I forgot Nightshade does magic.

I push open the door and step inside. Moonlight glints off the trees, vines and shrubbery that line the greenhouse floor. My mouth winds with a satisfied grin. This place is closed to the public, so, of course, I’ve wanted to break in for ages. I steal a glance at Lincoln; my heart kicks. It’s nice to have a partner in crime. Tiptoeing around the greenery, I lead him toward the massive tree at the building’s center, all the while thinking how we’re alone, it’s dark, and he looks mighty handsome in the moonlight. My heart rate goes through the roof.

“And here we are.” I bow slightly. “The very rare and beautiful Tumtum tree.” Reaching out, I brush my hands down the old tree’s gnarled bark, feeling the life and energy under its skin. “You only find them in Purgatory.”

Lincoln nudges me with his elbow. “You’re trouble, Myla Lewis.” He leans forward, his mouth curling into a snarky grin that turns my insides into goo.

My eyes narrow. I’m not gooey enough to let that comment slide, however.

Stepping back, I fold my arms across my chest and slap on a look of righteous indignation. “I am not trouble. We’re here on a mission of mercy.”

“Really now?”

I point to a white sign nailed to the center of the trunk. “See? This poor thing has a huge ‘do not climb me’ sign, and that’s just not right. If anything ever screamed ‘climb me now,’ it’s this particular tree.”

Lincoln leans back on his heel. “You have a point.”

“Of course, I do.” I grip the knobby trunk and start to climb. Lincoln scales the opposite side.

I swing myself so I balance standing on a horizontal branch. “First one to touch the ceiling wins.”

Lincoln finds a new toehold in the bark and scales upwards. “You’re on.”

A jolt of excitement runs through me. He’s not telling me to leave and be safe, he’s not chickening out; he’s actually racing me to the top. I’m so distracted and happy, I almost tumble off the branch, catching myself at the last second. I return my attention to the trunk and begin to climb.