Mayhap took a breath. “Yes, I did,” she answered.
It was no lie. She had been made by this girl. She belonged to Quiverity the way a garden belongs to the sun. And that meant that Quiverity belonged to her, too. For good. For bad.
The grass settled her on her feet, and something in Mayhap relaxed, a ribbon unwound. But she could not stop thinking of her family. “Are they safe?” she asked.
“They’re safe,” said Quiverity Edevane, appearing beside Mayhap. “They’re in the grass. Let me show you.”
Mayhap and Quiverity found the Ballastian family — mother, father, three sisters, and five droomhunds — in a space the grass had made for them. It looked like a silver cave.
Before, the grass had been eager to grab hold of Mayhap, to twist about her arms and legs. But now it stood apart from her — apart from all of them — as though it were watching. Waiting.
Mayhap’s skin prickled. She didn’t know what the grass was waiting for, but while it stood still, she could try to make Winnow better.
She could try to save her sister.
Winnow was lying in the center of the clearing, the grass making moonshadows on her skin. She looked like a sculpture. All the words Mayhap couldn’t say caught in her throat like barbed hooks. She wanted to say her sister’s name — she was her sister, she was — but she couldn’t.
The Ballastians were standing around Winnow, bowing their heads.
Bellwether was speaking very quickly: “I don’t understand. It should have worked. After all our research on the subject —”
Cygnet squeezed his shoulder. “Bell,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.” Her face was as white as a winter moon. “We’ve — lost her.”
Her droomhund whined.
“We can’t have lost her,” said Bellwether.
“But we have,” said Cygnet, leaning over to place a cheek against Winnow’s. “She’s not breathing. She has no pulse.”
Tears were dripping off Pavonine’s chin as she looked at the dirt beneath her feet.
It was other-Mayhap who spotted Mayhap and the Mysteriessa.
“Mamma,” she said, pulling at Cygnet’s sleeve. “Mamma, the other Mayhap is here.”
Cygnet turned her head to see Mayhap and Quiverity standing hand in hand, their backs to the grass that framed the silver cave. She moved to stand between them and Winnow. Other-Mayhap and Pavonine stayed where they were. Other-Mayhap whispered, “Who’s that?” and pointed at the Mysteriessa. Pavonine said, “Shhh.” Bellwether stiffened.
The grass began to whisper.
“Ours, ours, ours.”
“You can’t have her,” said Bellwether.
“I’ve come to help,” said Mayhap. “I know what’s wrong with her. I know what will make her better. Please. Let us try. Otherwise we really will lose her. You will lose her.”
On her bed of dark earth, in her green coat, Winnow looked like a princess, her hair blown away from her face by the breeze rushing through the grass, her skin as shiny as mercury.
“Mamma,” said other-Mayhap. “You’ve been looking for my sisters for so long, hurting yourself for it. Now that they’re finally here, you won’t let Winnow die, will you?” There were tears in her eyes.
Pavonine spoke now, looking at the toes of her boots. “Mayhap was my sister for seven years — seven years and she was never anything but good to me. She has — I think she has — a good heart.”
Cygnet and Bellwether considered their daughters’ words. They looked at Pavonine, then at other-Mayhap, and then at Winnow. This was probably, in the end, what made them agree to it: the fact that they had no other hope.
Only Mayhap could help.
Only the Mysteriessa could make Winnow better.
And so Cygnet and Bellwether stepped apart, allowing Mayhap and Quiverity to come closer.
Mayhap kneeled at Winnow’s side. She squeezed her silver hand. It was a relief for Winnow not to flinch at her touch. She knew that once Winnow woke, she probably wouldn’t ever want to see her again. It hurt. But it hurt her more to see her sister suffering. She looked at the Mysteriessa. “I think you know what to do,” she said.
Quiverity Edevane gave a curt nod.
She sank to her knees and placed a hand over Winnow’s ear. She held it there.
Cygnet hid her face, crying out. Bellwether stared at the Mysteriessa’s hand with horror on his face. Other-Mayhap was wearing her awkward smile, and Pavonine’s eyes were shiny.
And then Quiverity drew Evenflee — a scraggly mess of black fur, wriggling like a new puppy — from Winnow’s mind. The dog squirmed and cried, pushing his body against the Mysteriessa’s chest and panting.
Cygnet and Bellwether seemed to be holding their breath, staring at Winnow. Pavonine ran to sit by Mayhap’s side and took her hand and held it. Other-Mayhap breathed in: an exclamation of wonder. The Mysteriessa breathed out, as though relieved it was finally, finally, over.
And Winnow opened her eyes.
The silver began to recede from Winnow’s skin.
Cygnet and Bellwether gathered closer to watch, their droomhunds sniffing Winnow’s fingertips. Pavonine’s mouth was open. Other-Mayhap came close, too, patting Evenflee, who was still in the Mysteriessa’s arms.
The silver drew itself away from Winnow like mist lifting away from a lake. Her skin, inch by inch, was restored to its creamy tone. The silver was drawn out of her eyes, too, until they returned to their usual richness — so dark you could hardly see her pupils. She blinked, trying to focus on the faces that peered down at her.
She wriggled her fingers, her toes. She sat up, ever so slowly, as though she were afraid the silver would come for her again.
Pavonine let go of Mayhap’s hand and launched herself at Winnow, tumbling on top of her. “Winn,” she said. “You’re here. You’re better.”
Winnow ran a hand over Pavonine’s head. “I’m better,” she said.
“I missed you,” said Pavonine, resting her head on Winnow’s shoulder.
Peffiandra jumped up to lick Winnow’s cheeks.
Cygnet and Bellwether quietly reached down to take Winnow’s
