Her ears were suddenly warm again, and she could hear the hiss of wraiths in retreat, a sound like ice evaporating in extreme heat. A little more cautiously, she cracked open her eyes, and peering through her lashes, she saw the roiling shadows hissing in pain and tumbling over one another to flee the daylight and dive back into the bowels of the earth.

Sitting up, Claire brought her hand to her eyes, shielding herself from the brightness, even as she tried to look for its source. And there, in the center of all that golden glory, stood the black silhouette of Nettle Green, every inch of his five-foot frame fierce and determined as he pressed his palm against the trunk of a tree and asked if it would like to glow. If it would like to fight back against what had just disturbed its delicate root system and its home of thousands of years.

Nett’s other hand was gripped by a girl whose long ponytail whipped in the wind like a victorious banner: Sophie. The garden’s light streamed out from around her like a halo, radiating over the entire hilltop, making everything that was previously unseen visible. And though Sophie still looked like Sophie, Claire felt that maybe she was already more unicorn than girl. Someone who was pure magic and made all magic stronger.

Nett pulled back his hand, and slowly the sunlight trickled out of the plants, and the night’s blue darkness settled over them all again. But now the chimera and their riders had recovered, and the alchemists had their nets ready. With triumphant shouts, they galloped at the remaining dregs of the wraiths, sweeping them away from the people who were slowly staggering to their feet.

Claire closed her eyes. She was so exhausted, she thought she might pass out right there.

“Claire!” She felt a tug on her shoulder, and looking up, she saw that Sophie was pulling at her. Nett and Sena were already streaking ahead. “We need to retreat. The wraiths might not be able to withstand sunlight, but the Royalists can.”

Claire nodded, understanding what her sister was saying. She let Sophie yank her to her feet. And that’s when she saw it.

She almost fell back down again. “Sophie,” she croaked out. “The well.”

The old stone well was no more. Smashed like a dropped cake, its stones lay on the ground like discarded crumbs.

“I know,” Sophie said, and Claire could hear tears in her words. “Later. We’ll deal with it later.” Her voice hitched. “We need to get to Greenwood.”

Gripping hands, the Martinson sisters ran down the hill—alongside a torrent of terrified Tillers, Spinners, and Forgers—toward the lanterns that waved above a brand-new hedge. Panting, they surged through the leafy embrace and stepped into an Arden that would never be the same.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER

22