The castle seemed even larger on the inside than the outside. The portraits of somber figures in period dress glared down, and the eyes followed him. Either end of the long hallway disappeared in gloom.

“I think I would be lost without a guide,” Isaac said.

“It’s an odd place, Rookskill,” Amelie answered. “Mind you, don’t go wandering alone, especially at night. The hallways seem to, I don’t know, bend. Rearrange themselves.” She wrapped her arms around her chest. “I had a bit of a time here a couple of years ago. A bunch of us did. But that’s all finished.”

“I see.” Isaac had the feeling that it wasn’t finished at all, at least not for Amelie. He pressed his hand to his heart, feeling the pendant.

Isaac chose the first unoccupied room they came to. It was large, with an enormous four-poster bed and a cold fireplace.

Amelie chattered on. “Sorry about the dessert. Lark confuses sugar with salt. Well, maybe confuses. Maybe intentionally swaps. Ghillies are tricky. Sometimes they can be sweet as butter, but other times . . . plus, there isn’t much sugar to begin with. Rationing, you know. I would’ve warned you—don’t eat any food that looks normal, it’s the not-normal-looking food that’s all right—but didn’t want to hurt Lark’s feelings.” She paused and said, “Oh.”

Isaac turned. A ghost of a cat walked toward them, in the air a foot above the floor.

“Where’d you come from?” Amelie said. The cat moved between them, pausing to rub against Amelie’s leg, then walked on. “I’d better find out about you.”

“That is your magical gift?” Isaac guessed. “Dealing with ghosts?”

“Taking care of magical creatures of all types,” she said, blushing a little. “Lark, Willow, any creature like that. Like that ghost kitty, though I’ve never seen her before. Right, then. Have a good rest. There are clean clothes in the dresser. You should find some trousers and shirts that fit. We’ll get the rest sorted out in the morning.”

Isaac nodded, closed the door, and put his pack on the nearest chair.

He rubbed his eyes. The past weeks weighed on him like a ton of stones. The hum that filled his mind now was soporific, and he fell across the bed and was asleep before he even removed his shoes.

*   *   *

Sometime in the night Isaac woke. He rubbed the drool from his mouth and turned over. The room was dark, but coals burned in the fireplace, shedding dim orange light.

He sat up.

Willow hovered over Isaac’s pack, fingering the buckles that held it shut. Isaac’s blood ran cold.

“Stop,” Isaac commanded.

Willow snarled. “Light sleeper,” they grumbled. “Made you a fire, we did. Think you could be grateful. Freezing in here, it was, until we fixed it.”