Lelia smudges at the dirt with the toe of her boot. “Simple tracking stuff. Haven had a tight gait, size-six feet. Her shoes were smooth on the bottom. All of Imogen’s shoes have decent tread — she wants to be able to hike around at a moment’s notice. Her strides are huge. So are her feet.”

I spit out clear strings flecked with dark earth as June rubs my back. I look up at them, eyes and throat stinging. “I shouldn’t have said that about Imogen —”

Hawthorn waves a hand, her tourmaline rings catching the harsh moonlight. “You were right.”

“And wrong,” Lelia adds with an edge, not quite willing to let it go.

“It was Imogen’s magic,” Hawthorn says, setting the argument to rest. “Haven was using her.”

Imogen comes around the tree again, wandering even though the Grays are right in front of her. She looks tattered to the point that I’m surprised she’s lived so long in the woods on her own. But that’s the least of it.

Her sister stole her magic, and two people died. When the wards broke, Imogen must have felt it. So she ran away, afraid that Haven would use her power to mess with the Grays again. I can’t imagine knowing that someone you love could do that. Take your power. Use it to hurt your friends. Use it to kill.

The Grays wanted me to use magic to help them, but they never forced me. I made every choice myself, including the bad ones.

Especially the bad ones.

Some of those are the choices I’m most proud of.

I look over at Rush, standing directly in front of the girl she loved, the girl who’s gone. Imogen doesn’t blink. Rush takes a step to the side and lets Imogen pass in her endless rounds. I get up, brushing dirt from every part of my body.

I walk to the place where the faerie ring opens. It’s a tight, tiny corridor of sticks and shadows. I can barely see a few feet in before it curves. The secret inner ring is a place that would be slightly terrifying even if it didn’t open onto another world.

Rush joins me, our hands sliding toward each other, knotting loosely. Rush whispers, “I can do this part.”

I shake my head. “It’s why I’m here. Besides, you saved me. I’ll save her. Then we’ll be even, right?”

Hawthorn picks up the dowsing rod and hands it back to me. “You need us on this side,” she says. “To keep you anchored.”

Rush hums a single note, and then she does something new: she instructs Hawthorn and Lelia to hum two others. Together they form a single, dissonant tone. A haunted sound that hangs in the air.

“What is that?” I ask.