“Come on, let’s get you two home,” Papa said. He guided Mina to the cart and helped her up onto the seat. He then pointed to a blanket in the back. “You didn’t shock me, so I’m going to assume you’ve learned enough at that training school to avoid burning that to a crisp?”

As an answer, Pixit jumped up into the back of the cart. Papa climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped the reins, and the horse jolted forward into a trot.

In silence, Papa drove between farms, and Mina drank it all in: the deep green of the hip-high wheat, the pale green of the just-planted beans, the rich brown soil between the rows. It smelled right too. She inhaled the familiar mix of old manure and fresh greenery. It was near sunset, and the sun was a hand’s spread away from touching the distant mountains. Already some of the clouds had started to pinken.

As the sun sank, she saw their farmhouse in the distance, framed by a glorious array of rose, orange, and golden clouds.

Gaton had said that when she came back, home would feel smaller than it used to. But this didn’t feel that way at all. Home felt just right. As they drew closer, she saw the twins running around in the yard—​from this distance they looked tiny, but she was sure it was them.

“Mina,” Papa said hesitantly. “I want you to know no one blames you.”

Blames me for what? She felt as if her heart were squeezing inside her. Did Professor Dano tell them what I said to the prime minister? He wouldn’t have. Not after he’d insisted she lie to her friends. Not after he’d lied to everyone in the school.

“I know training can be difficult,” Papa said. “Especially when you’re, well, you . . .” He trailed off. “Anyway, we’re happy to have you home. And if you don’t want to go back, we’ll support your choice. We know you tried.”

“I . . .” Mina wanted to tell him she hadn’t been sent home because she was failing, except that it was true that she hadn’t succeeded in getting lightning to spark on her fingers yet, and Professor Dano had used that—​and the fact that she’d tried to hide it—​as the excuse for the academic suspension. Apparently, he’d been keeping a close enough eye on her to notice she was failing to perform even that basic skill.

«We aren’t failing. We just haven’t succeeded yet.»

If only she’d managed to spark!

“I just need to figure a few things out,” she told Papa.