Everyone watched in silence as Calla climbed the hill—her hill. The last place she would ever stand.
“Go,” she said again, planting her feet firmly in the center. “Let us all find rest.”
She closed her eyes then, swaying with the breeze. The faintest hum of her melody drifted through the night, turning the air restful. Singing of the coming dawn.
“Goodbye,” Sophie whispered, so softly she was sure Calla couldn’t hear her.
Calla opened her eyes. “Farewell, Sophie Foster.”
SEVENTY-FIVE
THEY MOVED OUT of Calla’s sight, near a pasture filled with grazing griffins. The Council left quickly, promising they’d return in the morning to check the Panakes.
Elwin vowed to come as well, in the hopes that there’d be blossoms ready to harvest. None of the gnomes in Lumenaria were showing red yet, but the sooner they got the cure, the better.
“What about you?” Mr. Forkle asked Tam and Linh. “I can bring you to your family. Or, we have two tree houses that now have vacancies—regardless of whether you join our order.”
The twins exchanged a glance.
“If you mean that,” Linh said, “we’d like to take your offer.”
“Someday we’ll face our family,” Tam added. “But not until we’re ready”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Forkle said. “And what about you, Mr. Dizznee? I’m assuming you’ll be going home?”
Dex nodded. “Unless Sophie needs me.”
Sophie choked down the lump in her throat. “Give the triplets a hug for me.”
Dex hugged Sophie first, telling her to hit her panic switch if she needed him. She promised she would as he glittered away.
“Which leaves you,” Mr. Forkle told Keefe. “You can stay with Tam and Linh. Or I’m sure Alden has a place for you at Everglen.”
“We have one here as well,” Grady said.
“Wow, didn’t see that coming,” Keefe told him. “And thanks. But . . . I’m going back to Candleshade—and there’s no need for that tidal wave of worry you’re hitting me with, Foster. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” Sophie repeated, remembering Keefe’s epic freak-out when he’d found out the Black Swan were considering letting his father join their ranks. “You can’t go back there, Keefe. You hate it.”
“I do,” he agreed. “But I can’t keep running from who I am.”
His voice hitched on the last words, and he wouldn’t look at her as Mr. Forkle created him a path to Candleshade. When he glittered away, she caught a glimpse of the scared angry boy she was starting to know too well.
Part of her wanted to chase him, drag him back to a better place. The other part of her couldn’t handle any more drama that day.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And I’ll send your belongings within the hour. I know there’s a certain blue elephant you cannot sleep without. As well as a troublesome imp!”
Sophie mumbled her thanks, but sleep was out of the question. How could she sleep when she knew Calla was out there, changing?
“Come on, kiddo,” Grady said, wrapping his arm around her. Edaline did the same, and they walked inside arm in arm.
Sophie studied Havenfield’s living room, with its crystal walls overlooking the ocean and its wide curved staircase, trying to feel like she was truly home. Edaline made custard bursts while Sophie showered and changed, and she was glad to be wearing nonfurry pajamas. But even with Ella in her arms and Edaline rubbing her back, her bed felt weird.
Her room felt weird.
Everything was wrong.
When her parents finally left, she squeezed her eyes tight and stretched out her mind to Silveny.
FRIEND! the alicorn transmitted. SOPHIE! FRIEND! VISIT!
Sophie only had one question.
Safe? she transmitted.
SAFE! SAFE! SAFE! Silveny agreed, and Sophie felt her shoulders relax. She hadn’t forgotten the secret Keefe had shared with King Dimitar.
Tomorrow, she would have to ensure Silveny stayed safe—permanently.
Calla’s Panakes tree was the most exquisitely beautiful tree in the history of beautiful trees. It stood stately and elegantly on its hill, with long sweeping branches floating on the ocean breeze. The tree reminded Sophie of a weeping willow, but it didn’t make her sad like she’d thought it would. Somehow, the tree felt hopeful—and friendly.
It might’ve been the braided bark, which reminded her of Calla’s plaited hair. Or the way she could hear soft whispers in the rustling star-shaped leaves. Most likely, though, it was the colorful blossoms. Thousands of them—maybe millions—turning the branches into garlands of silky fluff.