Her head spun, horribly. She let it fall against the moss as she mumbled, “I thought you two didn’t do magic anymore.”

They hadn’t for years, as a point of principle, ever since they’d forced their way free from Mother’s early lessons to choose their own paths in life—and the most that she’d seen from either of them even in those few months of study was levitating a saltcellar or two at the supper table.

“Apparently, that magic in our blood’s been growing along with us, even though I didn’t pay it any attention until now.” Giles sank down beside her, sickly pale, and summoned a rueful smile when she looked up at him. “Mother always said it ought to be all or nothing if we wanted to be good mages, and I never wanted the kind of training Connall had … but when I heard you scream, I panicked—and the magic just exploded out of me, casting my voice exactly where I wanted it. It’s as if it was waiting all along for me to finally remember it was there—or to really, desperately need it.”

“Where are you? We’re right here! Won’t you even try to find us?” Quieter and farther away with every moment, his other voice receded into the distance.

“How long can you keep it going?” Rosalind asked as she tugged firmly at the arm Cordelia used to hide her wound.

“I don’t know.” Giles sighed, drawing his knees up to his chin. “That’s the problem with not having enough training—I don’t know how to tell how much strength I’ve really got. Enough to get us away from here, I think, if I push myself … but you’d better figure out first whether we can safely move her.”

“Ugh!” Giving up, Cordelia pressed her eyes shut, let Rosalind push aside her arm, and buried her face against the damp, mossy ground.

Giles hummed anxiously beside her while their sister pushed up her bloodied but untorn gown and undertunic and prodded at Cordelia’s burning wound.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Rosalind finally said. “Connall could sort it out easily enough if he were here.” She sighed. “We’ll need a bandage, though.”

Giles snorted softly. “You can’t turn yourself into one of those, can you, Cordy?”

Cordelia didn’t even bother to roll her eyes at the weak joke. Her own abilities had stayed the same ever since the first time she’d shifted into a bird and flown away from the mashed-up dinner of beets that Alys had been trying to force upon the three of them as infants.