Along the road, the noises carry well, and as soon as Pine hears them she takes the rest of the way at a dead run. Her head is still ringing from the call, and she falls several times on her way, but she hardly notices the pain as she gets up and keeps running. She pulls the door of the hut open, and shock stops her in her tracks. The call was not very clear, and she did not expect this.

‘I’ve caught it,’ her mother wheezes, lying on the floor on top of the creature. It is writhing under her weight, growling and trying to angle its head up to take a bite. Its teeth are very white, and very sharp. ‘Don’t just stand there, help me! Get a rope!’

Pine unfreezes and dashes across the room, towards the cupboard that holds their supply. Behind the strings and bundles of yarn — red and white and black, for ritual as well as for clothing — lies a coil of thicker rope. She grabs it and whirls to face the room again, where her mother is struggling to keep the creature down. It has grown so much already. Pine grabs at its hind legs, but the creature slips out and kicks her elbow, hitting just the right — or, in this moment, the wrong — spot. For a moment, Pine can see nothing because of the pain.

‘Careful!’ her mother shouts, but there is no need.

Pine tries again, and this time she manages to catch both of the creature’s hind feet. Shifting them to one fist, she begins to tie the rope around them with the other. The limbs feel strong as eels, but fortunately not as slippery, and after some struggling she manages the bind.

Once the back is done, it gets easier. The forelegs are weaker. It takes some effort to keep them — and Pine’s own hands — away from the being’s face and teeth, but soon enough it is over. Mother slides off, breathing heavily. Pine checks the knots. The creature stares at them, snarling, and its eyes shine with rage.

Only now does Pine realize that the house is largely wrecked. The bundles of herbs that hung under the rafters are now torn and spread all over the floor, and the chairs lie overturned. The bed had a leg torn off, and the blankets have all slid to the floor. Several of the window panes are broken. The coals from the stove lie strewn about, and Pine can sense the remains of a spell on them — a dampening, no doubt cast by her mother to keep the place from burning down. By the table, a bucket is upside down, as well, and the floorboards next to it are soaked in blood, by now half-dried and brownish.

‘You’ve been feeding it,’ Pine guesses, and her mother nods —

‘Nothing out of the ordinary, you know, all well-behaved as always, and then suddenly —’ She waves a hand at their surroundings, taking in both the destruction and the creature itself, which still wriggles impotently in its bonds and snaps at the air. ‘It’s been following me all morning — you know how bored it gets if we shut it in. If only I’d got a premonition, anything… but I never…’

‘I didn’t either,’ Pine says. ‘I only felt your call. I had to leave the cart with Orchid.’

‘I couldn’t stop it. Any spell I tried only made things worse. And it doesn’t react to the usual — silver, ginger, iron, ash, none of it.’ Mother wipes the sweat off her face. Her eyes glisten, agitated. ‘Imagine what could happen if it ran off, if it hurt somebody… I made a mistake, not taking more care, I should’ve known better. But there never was anything, anything… it was so well-behaved, and friendly like a pup…’

‘I know,’ Pine says. The heady smell of crushed herbs is giving her another headache. She stands up, watching the creature warily. ‘Should we bring it into the shed?’

‘I think so,’ her mother says, rising, too. ‘And then clean up. But even before that, we must investigate. This was quite odd.’

Pine looks around for the cauldron, and sees it hanging on one of the herb hooks. She will have to get a ladder to reach it. For now, she takes the creature’s hind legs, while her mother takes the front, and together they maneuver it out of the door and into its shed. It is not easy to carry the creature while it keeps twisting and growling, trying to wriggle out of their grip. And it is heavy, too. In a way, Pine supposes, they should be thankful this outburst happened now and not later, when the being would’ve been even larger, and impossible to control.

This is not real. This cannot be happening.

Yet it is, and as Jade is lead downstairs and into a carriage, she tries to convince herself this is only a return to normalcy. This was meant to be only a short stop on her journey. She should be glad her Prince came for her. It is an honor. It is as it should be, and was going to be all along.

If only he had let her say goodbye… But he did not understand when she mentioned it, and she does not know how to reach him.

‘Villagers?’ He looked at her when she said it, close enough to touch yet with enough distance in his eyes that she wondered whether he would even care if she screamed. ‘But they have already been honored enough by your very presence in their midst, my lady. There is no need for more ceremony.’

Then he left, and Jade has been dressed properly, in one of her brighter gowns, and conducted downstairs to her carriage. She will ride apart from him, in her own carriage. This way is more proper.

At least if she is alone, she will be able to cry.

But what is it about this all that makes her inconsolable? She should be happy she is going, at last, to take her rightful place. Jade tells herself off for the complaining, for how ungrateful she is being. Many could only wish to be in her place. Some of her sisters, she knows, would have given anything for it. It is a great fortune to be married to a Prince — to become Queen one day, if she is lucky and her husband is chosen as heir. It is something to be envied. She will never need, never toil, never freeze or starve…

But she will be alone, alone, alone. The word tolls in Jade’s head like a bell. Love is for commoners. Still, she had hoped, hoped he could be… but now she has looked into his eyes, and has seen him look back as indifferently as he might have at a tree or a wall. The Prince is polite, and may well remain so forever, with her. Another in her place may have tried to win his affection, to flirt and laugh and make him love her. But Jade has never learned how to do those things, and now the insurmountable distance she sees in his eyes quenches in her any desire to try. She had been warned this is how it would likely be. She was prepared. But it does not hurt any less, for all that.

If only he had let her say goodbye. But the Princess is not supposed to be friends with peasants. Her own guards treat her with enough suspicion as it is, for inviting these girls into her presence so often. Maybe it was unwise to do that. But for the first time in her life, someone seemed to want her there — someone seemed to care. How could she have resisted that?

She must let it all go now, must let them go. She must forget what it felt like to be one of them, accepted and at peace, as though all was well and right in the world. That is all consigned to the past now. It is all over, and she will not even say goodbye.

Sunlight floods the tavern’s yard as Jade steps out, but to her everything appears grey, as if covered in dust. There is no reason to pine, she tells herself again. None. This is a great honor. Words run through her mind in circles, one chasing another, until they lose all meaning. The villagers — her subjects, soon — bow to her, and she forces herself to smile. Then she sees Magnolia at the edge of the crowd, watching the departure, and it costs Jade all the strength she has not to cry out, not to run to her.

Yet Jade manages the path to the carriage, and holds herself together until the doors shut behind her, leaving her in the gloom. Only then does she fall onto the seat, and allow herself to weep soundlessly into its pillows.

Peony walks slower and slower, as she reaches the cottage. In the evening light, all things cast long shadows, and it can be harder to see, but she can make out surely enough a cart abandoned in their yard, its poles propped up with barrels. A horse stands a little way from it, chewing on the hay. It is their hay, but it is not their horse. As Peony approaches gingerly, she recognizes Pine’s mare, and her worry eases some. Still, this is strange.

‘What is she doing here?’ she asks as soon as she enters. Orchid looks up from the stove, where a stew is bubbling. Their mother sits in a chair by the window, staring out into the sunlit garden.

‘I wish I knew,’ Orchid says, and Peony is glad to hear her own grumpiness mirrored in her sister’s voice. ‘Pine left her to me and ran home. I think it was some magical concern. You know how the witches can be.’

‘When was it? Shouldn’t she have left for the fair by now? She’s not going to drive through the night.’

‘Well, she might,’ Orchid allows as she goes back to the table. ‘It’s not like she’d have much to fear, it would only be inconvenient. Still, it was around midday when they came for the Princess. And now it’s…’

‘Who came for the Princess?’

‘Oh, you’ve not heard yet? The Prince himself.’ Peony would’ve expected some enthusiasm at this, but Orchid sounds aloof.

‘Was he not nice?’

‘I don’t know if he was anything.’ Orchid shrugs. ‘Just some man. Lovely clothes, but… Well, that’s it. Lovely clothes.’ She hesitates a bit, before adding — ‘I don’t know if he’s good enough for her. I don’t know if she’ll be happy with this man.’

‘Well,’ Peony says. ‘I hope she will be, but if she is not… Such is the way of her kind, and she must know it better than we do. They do not marry for happiness. Not like we might someday, not like our parents did…’

Orchid looks at the carrots lying before her, and when she speaks her voice is wistful —

‘I wish I could remember that.’

‘They were happy,’ Peony says, ‘until…’

Her voice trails off. She doesn’t want to finish — doesn’t need to, either. They were all happy, until their father died. The girls were both little, but Peony at least has some memories of him — a large, laughing man. He made their mother laugh, too. Mother had learned to live without him, eventually, learned to smile again, but it did take a while. And then…

Peony turns to her, in the chair by the window. Then she was taken away from them, too. Is she still there, inside that body? Can they bring her back? It has been so long. It may be too late. Maybe Orchid is right, and it’s been too late all along.

No, this is not a good way of thinking. They must not give up. Peony herself said it, and she must mean it now, in order not to fall apart. Her nails are all dark from the work, no matter how much she scrubs them, and she can’t remember the last time she had enough sleep. But there are worse sacrifices. At least they still have their land and their livestock, to make a living from. At least there is still hope, if they earn enough.

‘We are close,’ she says quietly. ‘If the fair goes well…’

‘But Pine still isn’t here,’ Orchid interrupts. ‘It is worrying. Should one of us go to her? I think she went home.’

‘Let’s wait a little more,’ Peony says. ‘I’ll go and see if she’s coming.’

But when she steps outside and climbs up the lower branches of a tree to see into the distance, the roads in both directions are clear. The forest looms in the distance, but she can make out no movement there, either.

Peony jumps down, and as she lands softly as a cat, she looks towards the tavern. The sight makes her briefly freeze until she can be sure, then call out —

‘Orchid! Orchid, she’s here!’

In a moment, with Orchid still wiping her wet hands on her apron, they both run out towards the place, heading for the back door where Peony saw Pine enter just moments ago.

Magnolia can barely hold back from chewing her fingers, she’s so worried.

‘Don’t hurt it!’ she keeps repeating. ‘Careful! Look at its eyes — is it crying? Oh, poor thing!’

‘This poor thing nearly bit my hand off,’ Iris mutters. ‘I don’t think it’s hurting much. Look at all that thrashing.’

‘It does seem very energized,’ Plum agrees, staring at it in mingled caution and curiosity. ‘Can’t you bind its jaws together, too?’

‘No,’ Pine’s mother says. ‘That could damage its nose.’

The door bangs open, and Magnolia turns towards it to see Peony and Orchid, wide-eyed, in the doorway. A draft comes in with them, rustling the curtains, bringing in the fragrance of late summer flowers.

‘Where have you…’ Peony begins, but then she notices the creature. It is hard to miss, with all the noise it makes. ‘What —’

‘I was going to come to you,’ Pine says. ‘We have a problem.’

The creature arches its spine, and its eyes rotate wildly in its face. As it moves its head, the horn swishes around violently. But nobody stands close enough for it to make contact.

Magnolia can still remember the friendly little thing it was when she came to visit the witches. Even if it drank blood, it was still likable in its own strange way. Now it all seems gone, washed away by a torrent of inexplicable fury. She knows she should be frightened now, as the creature lies there staring at them all in obvious hatred — and she is feeling it, truly, as she looks at its snapping teeth and the long, pointed horn. But there is also pity. She had cradled this being in her lap far too many times not to feel pity now.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ Orchid manages. ‘It was never…’

‘Come inside,’ Pine’s mother says firmly. ‘Close the door. I’ll tell you.’

The kitchen is warm, and in semi-darkness. The sun is setting, and they haven’t lit the lamps yet. Pine’s mother finds one hanging under the ceiling, and motions towards it. With a flash, the flame comes to life within the glass, and Magnolia can’t help but look up at it in amazement. That Pine’s mother is a witch is known, but outside of healing they rarely see her display her skill.

‘What is it, anyway?’ Father asks, rubbing his eyes. He still seems mildly shocked. ‘It’s like a horse, but those teeth… and that thing on its head… Where did you find it?’

‘In the forest,’ Pine says, keeping the details to herself. ‘That night when we went to fetch the Princess, remember? It’s a magical creature. But it’s always been so peaceful.’ Magnolia notices she has omitted the being’s unsavory eating preferences, too. It seems prudent. Mother and Father were upset enough by its appearance, and it is likely best not to alarm them further. ‘Yet it went mad today, and when we looked in the —’

‘When we looked for the cause,’ her mother cuts in smoothly, ‘we discovered that it has formed a link with those who found it — so,’ she spreads her hands out, ‘all of our girls here. But there was another with them that night, when they found it.’

‘The Princess.’

‘Indeed. And she — she is gone.’ Pine’s mother lowers her voice a little. ‘I’m afraid this will only be the beginning. This creature will sicken next, and probably die if the link is not restored promptly.’

‘So what if it does?’ Mother shudders as she stares at the being. It glowers back. ‘Why do you want to save something so… so…’ It clangs its teeth again, making her flinch before she finishes — ‘Vicious?’

‘It is not for us to question the ways of the woods,’ Pine’s mother says, and Magnolia wonders briefly if she is intentionally trying to be as vague as possible. ‘It has come to us, it depends on us — on the girls — and it would be,’ she clears her throat, ‘unwise… to let it down.’

Mother pales a little.

‘Unwise? Do you mean… in your sort of way?’ She tries to pull Iris behind her, and Iris grumbles in protest. ‘Could my daughters get cursed?’

The witches exchange glances. Pine’s mother says —

‘We cannot exclude this possibility. Once you have the trust of such a creature, neglecting it might have… drastic consequences.’

‘So will chasing the Princess,’ Father says firmly. ‘I’ve had enough of it already, you know — with her being here, strangers looking over my shoulder, we all of us fearing to make the smallest of mistakes… If I let my girls go after her with you, don’t you think they’ll be angry at your daring?’

‘She has defended us before,’ Magnolia says. She knows they will not understand, except maybe Plum, but she hopes her certainty will carry her through. ‘She will again. We have to trust her.’

‘And the Prince?’ Mother says sharply. ‘Will he listen?’

‘Their horses are fast,’ Orchid interrupts suddenly. ‘If we want to catch up with them, we should not waste time. They must have gone far already.’

‘The carriages will hold them back, though,’ Peony says.

‘Yes, but not that much. Do you want to have to ride all the way to the capital?’

‘But must we all go?’ Iris cuts in, turning to the witches. ‘Can’t the two of you just take it to the Princess?’

‘No,’ Pine says. ‘That would only break its link with those who would remain here.’

Orchid and Peony look at each other, and Magnolia can almost hear their unspoken exchange. Another fair is not until spring. The girls never talk of what they’re trying to do, why they’re working so hard, but Magnolia has figured it out a while ago. She has tried to help, too, whenever she had time — coming in to cook with them, to knit with Orchid. But they are proud, and will not let her do much.

‘Father, can’t you go to the fair, after all?’ she tries, just in case. ‘We do need to sell —’

But, as expected, he says —

‘You know I can’t, child. I’m far too busy here. If none of you girls can make it, then we’ll just have to wait until next time.’ He grins at her and ruffles her hair. ‘We can go without it, can’t we?’

‘Yes, I know,’ Magnolia says, smiling back. She wishes she could just come out and say it — that it wasn’t herself she meant, not her family she was worried about — but she knows Peony and Orchid would be offended if she did, and so she keeps silent.

Orchid is staring at the creature with a grim look in her eyes. Magnolia is not quite sure, but it appears to her that its thrashings have lost some energy. The horn has left long scratch marks on the table, and next to them there are wet spots, too. The expression on Orchid’s face is strange.

‘I think it is weeping,’ she says quietly. ‘We should take it to her.’

‘But — ’ Peony begins.

‘There will be other fairs,’ Orchid says, in a very level voice. ‘I don’t want to see it suffer any longer. And being tied like this can’t be good for it, not long-term. We should go.’

Magnolia looks over them all. Plum, observing it all from her corner so intently she seems all eyes. Iris, with arms folded tightly on her chest. Peony, looking lost and unsure, the way she hardly ever does. Orchid, motionless by the door. Pine, who meets Magnolia’s eyes directly as she says —

‘Orchid is right. We’d better hurry.’

‘Vote, then,’ Magnolia replies. ‘Do we go?’

She puts her hand forward, palm up, and the first to cover it with her own is Orchid. Peony and Plum follow. With a small eye roll, Iris joins, too. Pine smiles a little as she puts her hand on top, then says —

‘They will stop for the night. We might come upon them soon enough.’

The darkness outside has grown fuller. This would be the time for them all to have a bit of supper and go to sleep, but not tonight. A shiver crawls down Magnolia’s spine. It is excitement, in a way, but not of the joyous kind. The memories of the dark forest are still fresh enough in her mind, and she does not look forward to more. She is not afraid of the dark, not really. Still, it is uncomfortable.

‘Not to disrespect your craft,’ Father says with a glance at Pine’s mother, ‘but how sure are you that they will understand this need? I’d be careful with the Princess, if I were you. And with the Prince even more so.’

‘We will be careful,’ Pine’s mother says. ‘After today, believe me, I will watch it all like a hawk. We will take care.’

‘Don’t anger them again,’ Mother says, looking at each of her daughters in turn. Magnolia smiles back, trying to be encouraging. ‘I don’t want you to be…’ Suddenly Mother’s composure breaks, and she gives a great gasping sob. ‘I don’t want them to hurt you again!’

‘They didn’t, last time,’ Magnolia says to her, reaching to pull her into a hug. ‘Just a few questions. Nothing happened.’

‘But it could have! It still can… you know how they are, the nobles, the authorities, you never know — just one wrong step, one word —’

‘The Princess has protected us before,’ Plum says. ‘She will, again. She is a good person. She won’t let innocent people be hurt. And we don’t mean anything against her, after all. We just wish to help this creature.’

‘And then what?’ Mother asks. ‘Once she sees it — well, let us say the link is restored, then what? She won’t return here with you. Will you have to go with her? To the capital? Will you not come back?’

Magnolia’s heart falls. She is stupid not to have realized this. But Pine’s mother says —

‘Once it’s restored, I can look into separating them safely.’ With a glance at both other adults, she adds — ‘Mind you, I cannot promise you it will be done. But I believe it should be possible. It didn’t seem complicated, from what I’ve seen of it. Not like…’ She glances briefly at Peony and Orchid. ‘This I should manage. This should work.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’ Father says. ‘Then they must come with her?’

Pine’s mother pats him on the shoulder, smiling.

‘I will take care of them. If they go, then I go, too. And I will send word to you. It should not be long, either way,’ she adds, gesturing to the creature. ‘Soon, it will grow, and need its… need the girls no longer.’

‘How soon?’ Mother asks.

‘That remains to be seen. A week? A month? Who knows, perhaps just this one night.’ Pine’s mother claps her hands once, as a conclusion. ‘So! Since we are all going, we must have transportation. Our cart is too small, so can we borrow yours? I promise to send it back to you, if we end up continuing the journey.’

The parents look at each other, then Mother sighs.

‘Let Plum drive,’ she says. ‘She is the best at it.’

Plum runs out first, heading for the stables. Magnolia files out with the others.

Orchid and Peony run for their house, likely to get some warmer clothes. The sun has set, and the air is growing chilly. Mother brings out some woolen tops, too, and Magnolia pulls hers on. It is not autumn yet, not yet harvest time, but that will begin soon enough. She does not want to imagine not being here for it, leaving her parents to do it all by themselves.

The witches carry the creature out, swaddled again in the covers they brought it in. The bundle wiggles between them, but with much less ferocity than before. The being must be hungry, too. And Magnolia cannot forget its eyes. For all the snarling, all the rage in that bony body, there was something in the eyes… well, not human, not truly, but something relatable still. A sadness, grief even, that she wonders if Orchid saw, too — if that was what moved her to speak in favor of going. Orchid knows well what it is like to lose something, and have little hope it will ever return.

‘It will,’ Magnolia whispers to herself, quiet enough that the others cannot hear. She is not quite certain whether she means it for the creature, or for Orchid and Peony. ‘She will return.’

Magnolia is not sure, but she has to believe.

The stars flicker above, growing brighter and more numerous as night falls. Peony and Orchid reappear, swaddled in warm wool, too. Peony licks her lips as she climbs in the cart, and she seems a little flushed.

‘Just a few bites,’ she explains when she sees Magnolia looking. ‘Can’t let it go to waste, right? Here, have some.’

Magnolia takes the bun, still warm from the over, and bites into it, as she watches the others. Father and Plum finish hitching the horses, and Plum climbs up to take the reins. Father lights the lanterns. The witches sit right behind Plum, with the creature held in their lap. The other girls cluster in the rear. Mother grasps their hands, one by one — not just her own daughters, but the rest of them, too, even Pine’s mother.

‘Go safely,’ she says, looking at her daughters one by one. ‘Remember who you are.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Magnolia responds, but she feels uneasy as if she has just lied. If she had remembered who she was, she would have never befriended the Princess in the first place. But she looked so lonely…

Apple. Her name is Apple. But they will not be able to call her that in front of the Prince. It is strange to realize they’ll meet her again, so soon after what they all thought was a farewell.

As the cart wheels out of the yard, they wave. Magnolia watches her parents grow smaller, until they disappear behind the trees, and only the lantern glow can still be seen. The village, dark and quiet, slides past until they reach the road. There Plum looks doubtful.

‘We cannot gallop,’ she says, clearly wishing she could. ‘Too dark, even with the lanterns, and the cart is too heavy. But I’ll try to go as fast as possible.’

The circles of light sway around the cart, blinding, and the night beyond them is an impenetrable wall of bluish blackness. The cart shudders as it follows the dips and turns of the road, but at least they are moving.

Magnolia looks at the witches, and sees Pine stroking the creature’s head. It has stopped moving, but its eyes are open, and it stares upwards, into the starlight. It is definitely crying now.

The Prince’s hand is cool, and dry as powder, which is quite proper of him.

‘My lady?’

Jade realizes she’s been staring, and hastily lowers her eyes. But he does not sound angry.

‘Let me conduct you to your room, my lady.’

He does not have to do that, and she wishes he would not. Yet it is not her place to stop him — not her place to tell him anything. A wife must submit. Commoner wives may ignore this rule with impunity, but Jade knows she cannot afford to. There have been princesses — queens, even — cast into dungeons for disobedience. Her Prince does not seem like the sort to do such a thing, but she knows that appearances can deceive. It was so back home, and it will be so at this new court, too.

This tavern is different — larger, and more luxurious. The village is bigger, too. They have gone quite a long way today. It certainly felt like an eternity to Jade, shut in the carriage all day. She does not like traveling, but she wonders now if she would miss it later, when it is all finished. There is no reason for her to dislike her husband, yet she is still glad when he is gone. The door shuts behind her back, nearly soundless on well-oiled hinges, and she is left alone with her servant.

This is the point where the girls would try to speak to her, start with the questions. Jade would only understand so much, but at least they would try. But her servant only asks —

‘Does my lady need anything else?’

‘No,’ Jade says, and that is the end of the conversation. This is as much as is appropriate, this and no more.

At least she has been given a book. It is a present from her husband — a short volume, beautifully illustrated, with the alphabet and some basic words. Some of them she has learned already, but some are new. Jade leafs through the pictures, whispering the words to herself. She will forget most of it, she knows, now that she has nobody to remind her and talk to her. Her memory is very flawed. All of her is flawed, really. No wonder her Prince is not interested — he must’ve hoped for better. A prettier wife, a smarter wife, one who would not struggle so with the language. One who would entertain him, instead of moping and crying. A cheerful wife. He must be unhappy with this arrangement, too.

The bed feels too soft, and the air too warm. Jade opens a window, before she snuffs the lights. She does not dare to open it fully, fearing questions, but at least she can risk leaving a small gap between the shutters. Princesses are not supposed to deal with such things themselves, but she no longer cares. If the night grows too cold, and she is ill again…

Well. That just might solve everything.

Jade falls asleep lying across the too-soft bed, with the draft from the window washing over her. The air smells of grasses, and it is not that cold after all. But it is enough to disrupt her dreams. She cannot remember what she sees, and only knows that it was deeply sad. Then again, right now everything seems deeply sad to her.

The shutters stop the sunlight, and so it doesn’t disturb her. By the time Jade wakes, it is almost noon, and from the yard below she hears yelling. The horses are neighing, and a fly is buzzing in the room. The room is very warm. She rises from the bed and almost calls her servant, but then the words finally reach her consciousness —

‘Apple! Apple, come out!’

Disbelief floods her heart, and hope — terrifying, poignant hope. That girl cannot be here, yet there is no mistaking her voice. Jade leaps towards the window, heedless of her own state, pulls the curtains aside, then throws the shutters open wide. The wind creeps into her nightdress immediately, making her shiver, but that is irrelevant.

There they are — all of them, Magnolia, and Plum, and the rest — standing there in the yard, as if they came for her, to save her and take her back. Jade’s heart leaps as if about to burst out of her, before she remembers it is impossible. She must stay, must go on to the capital — she cannot go back with them — but they have come, at least they’ve come…

Then Jade notices that there are guards all around, with their spears aloft and their swords unsheathed. One moves closer to Plum — the one who called out — and lifts his spear to aim…

‘Don’t you dare!’ The last time, Jade had not been loud enough to stop it before it happened. Never again. Her scream is so harsh it is almost a growl, and the guard’s hand drops as he stares up at her in shock. ‘Let them go right this moment! That is an order!’

Jade stays by the window just long enough to see that he obeys, then dashes out of the room and down the stairs. She has briefly considered jumping out of the window, but with the height that could lead to more problems than it would solve. There are people in the hallways staring at her, but it does not matter. None of it matters. She cannot let anything bad happen to her friends. She will not let it happen, not this time. Once was enough. It was all her fault then, but it will not be now. She will lie if she must, she will beg if she has to, but she will not let them be hurt again because of her.

In the yard, she stumbles in the bright light, but rushes onwards, not seeing the guards, not caring she is barefoot.

‘Let them go,’ she repeats just in case, to no-one in particular. ‘Do not touch them. That’s an order.’

But then she sees the tense faces of the girls, and remembers they cannot understand this language. She has to explain, to tell them not to worry.

‘Are you well?’ Jade asks, and for once the foreign words roll out easily. Plum smiles as Jade goes on, ‘I am here. You are safe.’

Magnolia laughs and pulls her in a hug, and Jade hears some indignant murmurs, but she ignores it all. For just a moment, she feels whole. For a moment, it is like coming home.