Cheney, who had risen from his repose to follow Hawk, never even so much as glanced in the direction of the sound, his dark muzzle swinging from side to side in that familiar way. Hawk was watching Owl again, thinking that she recognized that something was different about him and was wondering what it was. She was too smart not to pick up on it, too connected to him. She knew it was real; she just didn’t know yet what form it had taken because it wasn’t something she could see. Eventually, she would figure it out. They all would. Or events would force him to reveal it. That the magic that had formed him had surfaced from its dormant state and was now a full-blown presence.

He was a boy, same as always. But he was a gypsy morph, too. It was odd to think like this. He didn’t feel any different than he had before the King of the Silver River had saved him and brought him into the gardens. But where before he had lacked knowledge of his origins, had accepted his memories of his childhood as real, now he knew the truth. Not only knew it, but had seen the extent of it demonstrated at that militia-controlled bridge where he had used his magic—almost without knowing what he was doing—to turn everything into a tangled green jungle.

But that didn’t mean he was ready to talk to the others about it. Tessa knew because she had seen what he could do. But the others were still getting used to the idea that the Hawk they knew was only a small piece of the Hawk he had become. They needed time to come to terms with this, and telling them too much at once risked an unpleasant response. They were his family, but even your family could be alienated by discoveries they were not prepared for.

Hawk did not want that to happen. On the other hand, he had no idea what to do to prevent it once the whole truth came out.

Logan Tom lay atop the hay wagon, wrapped in blankets and asleep on one of the collapsible stretchers. Beneath bruises and scratches, his face was bloodless in the pale wash of the starlight; his skin felt damp and cold to the touch. He was breathing in uneven, shallow gulps, and now and then he twitched as if plagued by troublesome dreams.