Silence. Then we both burst into laughter. I rock back and forth, shaking and Marley does the snorting thing he does when something has truly tickled him. When the laughter subsides, I glance to the bedroom door.
“Come on,” I say, with a voice full of excitement. We’re back together. Back on a quest and back out in the world of witchery and Hidden Folk. “Let’s try the front way.”
I yank the bedroom door open, while Marley grabs his favourite torch. Both of us stumble to a grinding halt as we spot a figure sitting at the top of the stairs, with a book and a glass of water.
“Oh, yes,” Opal says, her voice dripping with mockery. “I wondered how long it would be before you tried sneaking out.”
“We’re just getting snacks,” Marley says. The lie is pretty impressive coming from him; I’m usually the one who covers our tracks. “Dinner was a bit stressful.”
Opal stands to her full height, crosses her arms,
and locks eyes with Marley. He visibly gulps but tries to maintain an innocent expression as he looks back
at her.
“Marley,” she says slowly. “I’m sorry you’re hungry. What can I bring up from the pantry for you? You and your torch?”
There is a challenge in her voice, one that neither of us can misinterpret.
“Gran says not to eat food upstairs,” I say, trying to sound casual instead of suspicious. “So, we’ll just—”
I make to go down the staircase, but she steps in front of me.
“If you seriously think,” she says matter-of-factly, “that you’re getting out of this house in the middle of the night, while Fae are in the area, and Sirens are plotting who even knows what, then you are suffering from some incredibly strong delusions.”
“Listen,” I reply, all attempts at playing sweet and delightful now gone. “If the grown-ups want to sit around and wait for something to happen, that’s on you. But I’m going to find out whatever it is the Fae are sniffing around for.”
“You!” barks Opal. “It’s probably you. Or haven’t you worked that one out yet?”
“Why me? You’re more powerful than I am. Every creature from here to Edinburgh has come skulking around, trying to get an audience with the Heartbroken Witch.”
“Yes,” Opal says. “Which is why I stay indoors. Don’t think for a moment they’re not gunning for me, either.”
“So, let’s blast them!” I say, every atom of me animated and alive. “Your magic and mine, we can
do it!”
However, despite my enthusiasm, her face remains passive and almost empty. She looks down at me. Considering me.
“I’m not really into ‘blasting’ people,” she finally says, still watching me steadily. Her eyes are tinged with just the slightest shade of judgement. “Sorry.”
I feel a cold trickle of shame, which needles into embarrassment and then rage. “You blasted Ren. You turned him to stone.”
Marley flinches. Opal does not.
“I did,” she acknowledges. “Because I had run out of options. We, as of right now, are full of options.”
“If we attack them, they won’t have a chance to attack us!”
The words stand with the three of us, like a fourth person.
“You know what’s funny, Ramya,” Opal breathes, her voice raspy and tired, “that’s exactly what they’re thinking, too.”
It’s a blow. A stinging spit in the face. “That’s not fair.”
She does not react. “Go to bed. Both of you. Stay there. I’m conserving magic at the moment. As much as possible. If I have to waste some of it getting the two of you out of trouble, I’ll be very angry.”
My pain is briefly tabled for curiosity. “Why? What spell are you working on?”
She does not answer my question. “Go to sleep. There’s lots to discuss in the morning.”
She moves a few steps down the staircase and sits once more, lifting her book and returning to her reading. It’s a clear dismissal. Marley inches back into our room in the tower, defeated. I stay.
“I just meant,” I say shakily, “I just—”
“I know what you meant,” she responds, not looking up from the book.
I cannot make myself move. “You’re making me feel like a bad person.”
At first, she says nothing, but I can see that her eyes have stopped scanning the pages.
“We can get out of a lot of guilt by telling ourselves we only hurt someone because they were the wrong sort of person,” she finally says quietly. “That we’re the main character and they’re someone who went off-script or we need them to play the villain.”
I bristle and throb, fully awake and teeming with angry energy. “She is a villain. You didn’t see her like I did.”
“When you were very small? Good judge of character, were you?”
“Yes!” I bellow. “I saw through Ren before any of you, remember? And you haven’t met Portia.”
