Every animal sense in Cordelia’s body screamed for her to back away. But Giles was already loping across the rush-covered floor, and Rosalind took her own place at the table half a minute later, rubbing her hands and looking eagerly toward the big black pot that simmered on the fireplace, sending sweet tendrils of scent throughout the room.

“Come on, Cordy!” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Cordelia had no reasonable human answer … and she wasn’t a mindless animal, no matter what anyone else said. So she lifted one foot and then the other, gritting her teeth with effort, until she stood in their grandmother’s cottage and the door fell closed behind her, shutting out the green forest and the world beyond.

Her vision blurred with panic. Her breath shortened.

“There, now. We can make ourselves comfortable.” Their grandmother’s voice curled around her, tugging her gently across the room. Cordelia barely even felt her legs move. Her vision only began to clear again as she sat down at the table. It must have been the base of an enormous oak tree once. It had been polished to an astonishing sheen, just like the golden goblet at its center.

“You must be thirsty.” Grandmother was suddenly just behind her; the wide, draping silk sleeve of her gown brushed against Cordelia’s shoulder as she poured a sweet-smelling liquid into the big goblet. Steam rose from its golden lips. “Why don’t the three of you share this while I prepare your porridge?”

The drink that she’d poured smelled like summer sunshine in a goblet. It smelled like comfort, drawing all of them close together. In fact …

Tears burned at the back of Cordelia’s eyes at the scent-memory. It smelled just like the herbs that Mother gathered to increase her own protective magic back at home. And Grandmother had been right—Cordelia was thirsty, desperately so, although she hadn’t noticed it before. She’d been too busy running through the forest, following the call of family.

Family!

“Mother needs your help.” Her voice was hoarse; she had to yank herself away from that enticing smell as Giles and Rosalind tussled over who would take the first sip from the big, heavy goblet. “Those knights who were chasing us—they’re with the dukes of Lune and Arden. They’re all keeping her prisoner, and they’ve got Connall and Alys, too. They were trying to catch us, but—”

“You needn’t worry about them.” Grandmother’s long, slender fingers brushed gently against her shoulder. “No one outside can even see this cottage. Remember? I’ve been preparing for this moment for twelve long years. I haven’t left any room for accidents.”