“Too long. You were supposed to come right here, remember?” Rosalind smacked her stick irritably against one leg, peering around the gathering darkness suspiciously. “We could have started out half an hour ago, if you’d only been waiting where you were supposed to be.”

“We wouldn’t be here at all if she ever stayed where she was supposed to be,” Giles muttered.

At that, the urge to run—again—rose up within her in a surging wave, trying to propel her to her feet. Cordelia’s hands clenched into fists on her knees, holding her down. “Is Alys all right?”

“Who knows?” Giles’s fingers rattled against his side, playing an invisible, agitated tune. He’d followed Mother’s orders, she saw; not a single lute strap hung over his shoulder. How he must have hated leaving all of them behind. “Haven’t you felt it?”

“Felt what?”

“Try talking to Mother,” Rosalind told her.

“But—”

“Do it!”

Cordelia reached out in her mind. She felt … nothing.

Emptiness.

She sucked in a harsh breath.

“You see?” Rosalind’s knuckles whitened around her stick. “She’s gone.”

Goose bumps popped across Cordelia’s arms. “What do you mean, gone?”

“They did something to her,” Giles said. “They haven’t killed her. They couldn’t have. We would have felt it if they had! But they’ve stopped her magic somehow. We can’t reach her, and she can’t reach us, either.”

“And we didn’t even try to protect her!” Rosalind whirled around, lashing out with her stick and sending leaves scattering to the ground from nearby branches. “She wouldn’t let me help, and I was stupid enough to listen. Now, all because I was a coward—”

“What could you have done?” Uncontrollable shivers rippled through Cordelia’s skin. “That stick of yours can’t stop magical lightning.”

That terrible scream …

Alys is all right. She has to be. They’ve healed her.

Cordelia’s sister glowered at her. “You didn’t listen when Mother said to stay back.”

“And look where it got us!” Giles pointed an accusing finger in the direction of home. “Now Mother’s a prisoner. They have Connall and Alys. And they’ll come hunting for the three of us next!”

Cordelia flinched.

Rosalind dug her stick hard into the ground. “Connall told them we were only servants. Remember?”

“But they knew he was lying.” Giles gave a groan of frustration. “We’re the reason they came! They’re not going to give up just because we didn’t wait for them at the gates. How are we supposed to stop them from taking us when they do come? With your pretend sword? Or one of my ballads?” He snorted, his shoulders hunching and his head ducking down. “It’s absurd.”

“So what are you saying?” Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. “You want to give up without a fight? Surrender?”