‘The forest isn’t under threat from humanity,’ Yanny says quietly. ‘It’s under threat from the shadows.’

‘And we will win that battle,’ Mr Flint says, slamming a hand down on the desk. It cracks and then folds like a pack of cards beneath his touch. His eyes glow. ‘There is no greater priority among the fae council. What you must do is survive it so that we all may survive the bigger fight: to keep the forest whole.’

Nobody answers this time, and Mr Flint’s anger has been burned out. He sighs down at the pile of rubble that was a desk a moment ago, and herds everybody into the adjoining room: a huge redbrick space with a high ceiling and polished wood floor, where the self-defence and spell-craft lessons are held. He’s filling in for the usual teacher today, and as his eyes flash around the room, I can tell he’s not going to make it easy for anybody.

‘So,’ he says, lifting himself to the wooden platform in the centre with a leathery flap of his wings. ‘Let’s see what you have been learning with Ms Elder. Tash and Stella – come on.’

My skin flares as Tash turns her silver eyes on me, mounting the platform with a nimble leap. I follow, using my hands to pull myself up and clambering on, knee-first. By the time I’ve picked myself up, she’s standing, feet planted wide, and of course everybody is staring at us. She pulls the ice-blue needles from her hair, never taking her eyes off me, and begins to advance.

Last time, I just stood at the back of the class and watched.

I glance over at Mr Flint, wondering what he thinks I’m going to do, but he just returns my gaze and folds his arms, so I guess it’s up to me. Thing is, I don’t have flashing blue hair needles, or fiery eyes – I don’t have anything. I spent most of last night either pacing my room, full of rage at Nan and Peg and the world in general for making things so complicated, or looking at myself, trying to uncover my fae-ness. I said all the familiar spell words with a new zing, wondering if my magic would suddenly burst forth, especially now that my mother’s acorn has merged with my own, but they didn’t act any differently. I don’t even have interesting teeth.

Tash grins. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes,’ I snap, gathering myself and muttering Nan’s words for self-defence. She was always very bossy about self-defence. I just wish she’d taught me a few words of attack as well.

Tash dances forward, clearly determined to find a chink in my armour, but she’s too angry to do it with any subtlety; her eyes flash like mirrors before she strikes with the lightning magic in her needles, and her next move is pretty easy to read. I keep on murmuring the words under my breath, and my clumsy feet don’t let me fall. At one point, there’s even a flash of something that didn’t come from Tash – it’s there and gone again so quickly that I’m not entirely sure what happened, but Tash’s eyes widen in surprise, and after that she’s more cautious.