The sigil rises from the ground in a layer of mist and the air turns cold. My breath comes out in steaming white clouds. Frost cakes a thick crust along the edge of Morgan’s hood as he continues the incantation, burying his hands up to his wrists. The sigil responds, the curls of mist forming a net over the crow, who’s too busy picking at nothing to notice.

Musti and Rekku squawk alerts from above. Kamu flaps, trying to heave his heavy body to flight, but the trap is sprung and the magical net holds him in the circle.

“It’s working. You did it!” My joy is short-lived when I look over at Morgan.

The sweat on his face is turning to ice. His hands are shaking, the sigil dissipating.

He slumps to the side and Kamu bursts free of the circle, croaking his indignation before joining the others up in the branches again.

“Oh crap, oh crap. Morgan! Are you okay?” I catch him before he face-plants in the mud. I try not to think about the forest muck seeping into my jeans.

“Come on. You’re okay. Please be okay.” This happens, it’s normal. He warned me. There’s no need to panic, I tell myself as I take shallow sips of air, counting the seconds and keeping a finger on the pulse in his neck.

Never mind getting him expelled, you’re going to get him killed, the little voice interjects, helpful as always.

After precisely three minutes and forty-eight seconds, Morgan opens his eyes.

“Thank the gods!” I help him sit up. The relief crashing through my veins makes me dizzy. “Are you all right?”

“Been better.” He dusts off his hands before massaging his temples.

“It’ll be easier with a jar,” I say.

Morgan gives a tired shake of his head. Before he can say anything, another voice slices through the forest.

“Urgh, it’s her,” Aysha says as Sini & Co. make their way into the clearing.

“I’m not sure what an O’Connor is doing with Taika the Talentless.” Ekaterina’s words are as sharp as scalpels. She casts her dark gaze on me and once more I find myself appealing to the Void to swallow me whole.

Taika the Talentless, Taika the Useless, Taika the Pathetic—the voice at the back of my mind thinks it’s time to belt out a punk-rock chorus. The verse is just as good, it goes her her her her her. She she she she she she she.

I swallow hard, darting a glance at Morgan as I surreptitiously smudge leaves and soil over the runes with my toe while my cheeks ignite with a mix of anger and humiliation.

“Seriously? Are we in kindergarten?” Morgan shoots back. “And don’t be a jerk. Get Taika’s pronouns right. It’s really not that hard.”