Eleanor sighed. “It’s hard to explain,” she said. They’d brought Thea into the present—did that mean there was no Katie Rhodes here? Or did it mean they had Katie Rhodes and Thea in this timeline? Her brain felt itchy thinking about it.

“It’s so quiet,” Otto said, sounding troubled. “And the moon should be moving. It’s staying completely still. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let’s see if we can find anyone to explain what the heck is going on,” Eleanor said.

“Good idea,” Otto agreed. But as soon as Eleanor took a step, her legs gave out. She collapsed with a groan, catching herself on her palms. Otto and Pip ran to her, helping her back up. She leaned heavily against Pip, and she could feel her eyelids starting to drag.

“I’m sorry. Just . . . really tired,” she said.

“You’ve opened the Wending twice, dragged me across a half-dozen worlds, and escaped the throne room without a proper rest,” the hedgewitch said. “Of course you’re exhausted.”

Eleanor wished she could convince herself there was even a hint of motherly concern in her voice. “I’m fine,” she grated out.

“You’re really not,” Otto told her. “Look, there’s a bench. Sit down. Rest.”

Eleanor wanted to object, but she was too tired. She let Pip guide her over to the bench, and she sank down onto it.

“You four stay here. I’ll look around,” the hedgewitch said.

Pip snorted. “Because that worked out so well last time. I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t need a child for protection,” the hedgewitch said, brow arched.

“I am no mere child. I am the warrior, or have you forgotten?” Pip asked in her warrior voice, hand on Gloaming’s hilt.

The hedgewitch waved a hand. “Fine. Come, then, brave guardian.”

“Let us go hence, and see if the burrito place on Third is open,” Pip declared. They strode off together.

Thea climbed up on the bench next to Eleanor. The kitten-of-ashes jumped free and perched on the edge of the bench, looking around with bright, curious eyes.

“Who is Mr. January?” Thea asked again.

Eleanor looked at Otto, who shrugged. Eleanor wasn’t sure what was best to tell Thea—what to leave out, what to reveal, what would hurt her, what would frighten her. So she settled on the easiest thing: the truth.

“When we came to your kingdom, we didn’t just travel between worlds. We traveled to the past,” she explained. Thea’s eyes were wide, but she didn’t interrupt. So Eleanor continued, though her explanation was halting, fragmented. Otto jumped in when she faltered. Thea didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t say a single word until the very end.

Thea looked away, down the dark street. “Mother and Father must have found a way out of our world, eventually. And conquered all those worlds they talked about. I wonder how they did it.”