Cordelia’s shoulders hunched. “He did tell me about Raven’s Nest—and he said the spirits there hold all of the deepest secrets in the land. If they can share any of those secrets with us—if they can tell us what we need to know to get Mother and the others free, and who … well, we just have to go, Giles! It’s our only chance to save our family.”

“But you didn’t take the time to talk us into it. You just dragged us here against our will.” Giles shook his head grimly. “You can’t shut us out and make all of the decisions! Otherwise, you’re acting just like Mother—and at least I trusted her to make those decisions for our own good.”

His words stabbed into Cordelia’s chest. Was she imitating everything that had always outraged her in Mother?

She was keeping secrets from the others. But she couldn’t help it! If she told Giles the other question that was hissing and coiling like a viper in her chest, it would change everything. She couldn’t bear it.

She needed a real answer from those spirits, or Grandmother’s words would poison everything for good.

“We only have one another now, Cordy. Just the three of us.” Giles let out a shuddering sigh. “If I can’t even trust my own sisters anymore …”

“You’re not even their real sister.”

She would never tell him that!

In a heartbeat, Cordelia was a horse again. She tipped her big body over and fell flat on her side, whiffling air pointedly through her lips. Horses didn’t have to answer questions. Even Giles couldn’t talk forever to an animal who wouldn’t answer back.

When he finally did fall silent, though, he stood up and moved three feet away from her before curling up on Rosalind’s far side … and Cordelia felt every inch of the new distance he had put between them.

The next morning, she woke to find her triplets huddled together, whispering to each other with their backs turned against her. The sight felt wrong—as painfully off-kilter as the fractured land that had creaked and moaned its misery into her dreams, leaving her fragile and desperate for comfort. Still sleep-fogged and aching in every muscle, Cordelia rolled up from the grass and shook herself off in preparation to shift back into girl form and join them.

Then she looked down and froze.

Tiny white starflowers dotted the grass where she had lain, springing up to catch the early-morning light.

Sharp, cold fear pierced her chest as she stared down at them.

Coincidence?

No. They formed a perfect outline—but not of the big horse body she wore. In the grass, she could see the outline of the small girl body that was her true form.

Remembered voices whispered in her ears: “You are ours and always have been.”