“The Siren?”
“Yes.”
“So, if she gets this shapeshifter thing, she’ll let
Fog go?”
I turn to Aunt Opal, who rapidly looks away. I can tell that she does not want to make false promises to
the Dryad.
“He clearly isn’t here,” I say to Alona, trying to sound positive. “And there’s signs of a struggle. Which means they probably took him alive. He’s fine, Alona, I’m sure.”
“Ramya,” Opal murmurs in warning. “Careful.”
I suddenly remember what Portia said the
night before.
“I’m building myself a little council.”
“Is Fog quite a powerful Druid?” I ask Alona, trying to sound calm.
“Yes, that’s why I don’t understand,” she responds, sounding tearful. “He’s very powerful. I’ve seen him move boulders. So, why didn’t he fight them off?”
“Maybe he only intended it to look like a struggle,” Opal ponders, as she kneels by the hearth to feel how cold the logs in the fire are. “Maybe this is what they want us to see.”
Alona looks frustrated by this consideration. Even a little angry. “He would never deceive anyone like that.”
“Never say never,” Opal mutters, getting to her feet. “You don’t always know a person.”
She looks fleetingly at Alona and then moves into another room. I wait until she is out of earshot and then rush to the Dryad.
“We’re going back to Edinburgh, with Blue. Tonight. Come with us? We can look for clues. That’s where Portia’s based, so if she has your maker it’s probably close to there.”
I, maybe a bit selfishly, conceal the fact that I’m more interested in finding Murrey and further investigating the city than I am in tracking down the Druid. However, it’s all part of the same plot – to stop Portia from advancing her nasty plan for the Hidden Folk. I told Marley about it as we flew home on Blue. He was silent for some time afterwards. Shocked.
Alona’s eyes widen at my words, but she nods hurriedly. I step away as Opal returns from the
other room.
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” she asks Alona.
“Yes,” Alona says, a little defensively. “The land. The earth. Everything around here. It was always safe.
Until now.”
Opal arches an eyebrow at her tone but merely nods in acknowledgement, saying nothing. We leave the cottage together, closing the door upon the carnage and chaos. Alona gives me a meaningful look, a silent promise to meet us after dark for an adventure, before she transforms into a somehow forlorn-looking tree.
“Now are we going to do something?” I ask Opal.
She touches the teal fabric tied around her wrist and continues to remain silent.
“Ramya’s right, Aunt Opal,” Marley says. “This is all getting ugly. We can’t just do nothing.”
“Et tu, Marley?” Opal says dryly.
I clench my jaw but persevere, walking behind her with Marley by my side as we return home. “Why can’t you just—”
Opal rounds on me before I have time to say another word, shooting a blast of magic towards me. It hits me right in the sternum and I’m thrown backwards onto the ground. The wind is knocked out of me, and I splutter and swear, trying to get up. I can’t. She has bound me somehow, and I struggle against her power. She leans over me, and I expect her to look smug or amused but she looks sad. Sad and angry.
“Get up,” she says, in the most strangely sorrowful voice. “Please.”
I wrestle against the invisible rope but cannot break free. The more I try, the less I can move, and the more agitated I become. I finally give up and release my muscles, glaring up at her.
“Let me go,” I gripe, my voice almost a snarl.
“What are you doing?” she says, so softly. “What are you doing, Ramya? Sneaking out every night, waking up too tired to practice magic. What will you do when you come up against someone who does practice?”
Wet, warm and irate tears start to pool, and I can’t reach up to swipe them away. I know I shouldn’t be too shocked. Of course she knows about the sneaking out, we’ve been sloppy. Alona’s presence, plus Marley’s prior sighting of the weird shapeshifter, prove that we haven’t been keeping to the garden. I’m certain she doesn’t know about Edinburgh and Blue, however. That would really enrage her.
“We just want to help, Aunt Opal,” Marley says.
Opal says nothing. Then she releases the spell. Everything keeping me grounded is gone and I stagger to my feet. I fire my anger into a spell, blasting it at her. She deflects it with ease, like she’s moving a strand of hair out of her face. I throw another and she does the same again. I let out a bellow and cast one final spray of magic. She rebounds it so that it soars back towards me. I duck just in time, missing its impact.
I’m out of breath, and she is as calm as the water in the loch.
“Makes sense,” I snap, my eyes still stinging with salty tears. “I’ve never been good at anything, why would magic be any different?”
