‘What?’ A thrilling shiver rises through me. Neither Mum nor Sylvie ever mentioned shapeshifting. ‘Um, no.’

‘Really?’ She frowns. ‘That makes things trickier.’

‘I’d like to shapeshift, though,’ I say. Imagine taking on a bird’s body, or a cat’s. A dolphin’s!

Carys shakes her head. ‘This is not the time to learn. Shapeshifting is many times more dangerous than any other kind of spell.’

‘What’s the plan, then?’ asks Efa. She leans back against the bench, arms crossed.

Carys says, ‘Well, it seems that flying’s the only way for Tulsi to reach Merry. I’m not going to lie, I wish it weren’t so.’

Flying? Flying? My heart leaps with excitement.

Efa shakes her head. ‘You shouldn’t risk it, Mam. What if you’re spotted?’ Her lips are pressed tight.

‘I can’t see any other way.’ Carys sighs. ‘Can you?’

Efa says nothing.

Carys hands me a mug of hot chocolate. ‘And our Tulsi will be well experienced at flying. Isn’t that right? It’s not so dangerous where she’s from.’

‘Um … When you say flying, do you mean like … a bird?’ I ask.

Carys’s face drops. ‘You don’t know how to fly?’ After a moment, she rubs her hands together. ‘Well, if you can get yourself this far, surely you can learn to fly. All right, let’s get ready.’ She bustles about and hands me a wedge of apple cake. ‘Eat that while we make a little potion.’

Efa pulls three jars from the shelves and spoons dried herbs into a ceramic jug, then pounds something in a mortar and pestle and tips it in too, along with a thick black liquid. Carys hands her the kettle and Efa pours boiling water into the jug. She holds one hand in the rising steam and speaks a quiet, reverent spell.

Efa flashes me a smile. ‘That just needs to steep a bit.’

Carys says, ‘Efa’s the one they come to for medicines when they have a cold or fever. Knowing all about plants is her gift. Eh?’ She strokes Efa’s hair. Efa ducks out from under her mum’s hand, but she’s grinning. ‘You have some interesting native plants where you’re from, Tulsi. Your mam told me about them. Which do you use most?’

‘Oh … so many to choose from.’ I know almost nothing about using plants in magic. ‘Did your mam teach you about plants?’

‘No.’ Efa laughs. ‘I listen to the plants. They tell me. And when someone comes to me who’s sick, I listen to them. I mean, really listen to them.’ She rubs a hand in a slow circle over her chest. ‘Like I can listen to you …’ She closes her eyes.

I’m not sure I want her really listening to me. What if she realises how little magic I actually know? Would they still let me fly? Still help me find Mum?