Sage winced and trotted ahead to join some of the other villagers, and a part of Leelo—the part that followed rules, that would never betray Endla, especially if it meant bringing shame on her family—longed to join her. But instead she let herself feel the dampness on her shoulder, the tangible reminder of Isola’s suffering, and stayed.

They had finally reached the far side of the island from where Pieter had died. They came here for the spring ceremony and little else. The opposite shore was clearly visible from here, but there was no nearby village on the mainland this side of the island, so the threat of outsiders observing them was lower. The Watchers were sometimes told to patrol this area, but Leelo and Sage hadn’t been here since last year’s ceremony, when one of their distant cousins had been celebrating. It wasn’t mandatory for Endlans to attend, but as one of the island’s ten elected council members, Ketty went every year.

This year, twelve adolescents had become Watchers, and most had already arrived with their families. They greeted each other with barely contained excitement, the six boys gathered in their own cluster. Leelo knew them all, of course. They’d played with each other growing up, and on an island this small, there were no strangers. But the Watchers were always teams of two, and with so much of their time spent on duty, they rarely saw each other anymore.

“Your dresses are so beautiful,” a girl named Vance breathed, touching the soft trim on Leelo’s sleeve and nodding toward Sage. Vance was wearing a crown of owl feathers, adorned with dried thistles and dark purple berries. “You’re blessed to have such a skilled seamstress in the family.”

Leelo smiled and glanced behind her at Mama, who had joined the other parents at Rosalie’s insistence. Isola’s mother didn’t want the stain on her family to bleed onto Fiona’s. Vance had an older sister without magic, but Leelo could barely remember her. She’d left when the girls were still small. Leelo wondered if Fiona and Vance’s mother were talking about what it was like to say goodbye to a child.

“How is Isola?” Vance asked, gesturing to the girl. She had wandered off and was standing at the lake’s edge, staring blankly into the water, her muddy hem nearly touching it.

“Not well.”

Vance pursed her lips, and the expression, paired with her large yellow-green eyes, made her look very much like an owl. “I just can’t understand what she was thinking. Risking everything for some boy. An incantu boy.”

The words rankled Leelo. She loved Tate just as much as she loved Sage; magic had nothing to do with it. “She must have really cared about him.”

“If she had, she wouldn’t have let him come back,” Sage said.