“I think my father would be devastated that Tate is leaving, if that’s what you’re asking,” Leelo said coldly. “He loved us both equally.”

Sage’s lips flattened into a line, and Leelo felt her blood begin to rise.

“He did. My father wasn’t prejudiced, like some people.”

They had both resumed walking. “You mean people like Mother and me?” Sage asked.

“I was thinking of Hollis, but yes, people like you.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Sage muttered.

“Then tell me!”

Sage rounded on Leelo, her hazel eyes burning with an intensity that frightened Leelo. “My mother gave up more than you’ll ever understand for you and Aunt Fiona. Just remember that the next time you want to call us prejudiced.”

Leelo spluttered, unable to form words, but Sage had already forged ahead into the brush, and Leelo was too tired to run after her cousin, spouting apologies she didn’t mean. Whatever Sage thought Ketty had done, it didn’t justify the way they treated Tate.

As Leelo stomped down the trail, a starling off to her left let out a short burst of song. Smaller birds weren’t uncommon on Endla; they could generally escape the Forest, which preferred larger prey, though they never nested here. So it wasn’t the presence of the bird that startled Leelo. It was the song itself: the prayer she’d sung the night she offered the island blood for Tate’s magic, in a voice that sounded eerily like Leelo’s.

If anyone found out she had been performing a blood offering on her own, before the spring festival no less, she’d be severely punished by the council. Endlans weren’t supposed to use songs on their own before their year as Watchers was finished. The bird called again, and Leelo glanced around, her heart pounding, wondering if Sage had heard.

She knew she needed to catch up with Sage, that they were probably already late for their shift by now, but she couldn’t risk letting that bird fly around all of Endla, singing in her voice. She followed it off the trail a way, wincing every time the bird trilled again. She considered singing something else; perhaps the bird would pick that up instead. But there was no song without consequences, and for all she knew she’d end up creating a worse problem for herself.

The bird flitted from tree to tree, chirping merrily, and Leelo had the distinct impression it was mocking her. “Damn you,” she shouted, shaking her fist as it disappeared into another tree. “You’d better hope I don’t catch you!” She removed her bow from her shoulder, knowing the odds of hitting the bird up in a tree were slim to none. Perhaps she could scare it off, at least.