I turn back to Julia. “I need to take a walk.” I spin around before Aristelle can protest. I can sense people watching me as I make my way down the paths, so I keep my head down and focus on my feet crunching across the gray stones mixed with the blood-drop jewels. I look up only when I know I must be getting closer to Julia.

She’s gone.

I stop walking. The people in the courtyards next to me are staring. With no destination, it looked like I was running away, but a peppy tune catches my attention, and I keep striding forward. I know only one person who would play something that bright and happy after last night. I end up outside a courtyard with a sleek black piano underneath an orange tree so full of ripening fruit it reminds me of pancake breakfasts at Deb’s. She was always getting fresh-squeezed orange juice at the farmers market anytime she could. The smell suits Willow’s pretty little song. She has a light smile on her face as she plays. I can see her fitting in perfectly with Deb’s constant cheerfulness—much better than me. If I had been that lighthearted, maybe I never would have needed to leave. For a second, I can’t tell what magic she’s doing, but then I notice the orange peels opening like blooming flowers and closing again. No wonder it smells so strongly.

Willow notices me and stops playing.

Roman follows her stare and scowls but says nothing as she gets up and runs to the hedge.

“Hi!” She waves brightly.

“Hi.” I nod at her piano. “Your music is stunning. I’ve always loved music.”

“Do you play anything?”

“No. I grew up in the system, so I didn’t really get a chance.” I don’t know why I tell her that. It’s not something I usually share with someone I barely know. It took me weeks to tell Stacie, and she’s the type of person to ask a million questions. I only told her because she told me about her experience first.

She nods. “I grew up in a house full of siblings, and after-school music programs were the only thing my parents ever said yes to. They thought sports were a waste of time when they needed my help at home, but music was culture.” She laughs. “I learned a lot of instruments.”

“Willow,” Roman says. He doesn’t shout it or make any move toward us, but his voice is so commanding, I almost step away.

“Wait,” Willow says. “Thank you for getting him back. Yesterday,” she adds when I don’t immediately answer.

It takes me a minute to realize she’s talking about Ethan. She thinks I tormented him to pay him back for shooting the flowers right off her head.