The Ballastians could stay here, could continue living at Straygarden Place, but Mayhap and Quiverity couldn’t. It wasn’t theirs anymore.
And so they left the Ballastians behind, for Cygnet and Bellwether were caring for their own, and the two girls — one with coffee-freckles and one with white, white eyes — didn’t want to disturb that sort of love, the sort that tends to wounds.
Quiverity, Mayhap, and Seekatrix walked toward the wrought iron gate that Mayhap had seen in the contract’s dream.
Silence buzzed between them like insects.
Mayhap’s name broke it.
“Mayhap!” called Winnow.
Other voices joined in, like a handful of picked flowers.
Fear twisted Quiverity’s lips.
“Don’t worry,” Mayhap whispered. She turned around to see three girls with dark, streaming hair running toward her, their droomhunds sprinting alongside them.
Winnow, Pavonine, and other-Mayhap tumbled before her, laughing, their mouths full of morning air. They all had silver streaks in their hair now.
Winnow said, “Where are you going?” through labored breaths, and Pavonine jumped up and clung to Mayhap’s shoulders.
“We’re leaving,” said Mayhap.
“You can’t go!” said other-Mayhap. “We don’t want you to go.”
“We want you to stay,” said Pavonine. Peffiandra sat beside her and barked once.
“We’re bound now — by magic,” said Winnow. She eyed Quiverity carefully, then closed her hands as if she were holding a butterfly. When she opened them again, a tiny black puppy squirmed in her palms. She stepped toward Quiverity, handing it to her. “Now you can have your own droomhund,” she said.
Quiverity held the puppy gently, stroking its head with one finger.
“We’d like you to stay, too,” Winnow told Quiverity.
“Are you sure?” said the girl with white eyes. “I almost —”
“But you didn’t,” said Winnow, cutting her off. “And you saved me in the end. I don’t know about you, but it’s the endings of stories that matter to me, not so much the beginnings. And people are like stories if you give them enough time to reveal themselves.”
“What about your parents?” said Quiverity. “What will they say?”
Cygnet and Bellwether Ballastian were standing in the distance, their arms around each other. Their droomhunds sat beside them, watchful.
“They want to continue their work,” said other-Mayhap. “On magic and the natural world.”
Pavonine said, “They’re not only our parents. They’re yours, too.”
Cygnet waved. Her face held an expression that was at once pained and hopeful.
Seekatrix scratched at Quiverity’s leg, sniffing the air for the puppy’s scent. The other dogs howled melodiously.
“You’ve been alone for a long time, Quiv,” said Mayhap. “But you don’t have to be alone anymore. We could stay if you like.”
“Yes,” said Quiverity Edevane, so softly it seemed only the sky would hear her — only the bats diving for their last dragonflies and their last fruit.
But it didn’t matter.
Her sisters had heard her.
Her sisters had heard her, and that was enough.
I’d like to thank Patricia Nelson for all the exclamation marks and good advice, and for encouraging even my strangest ideas. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you. Miriam Newman, for loving the Ballastian sisters as much as I do. Thank you for getting it. Thank you for helping me to get there. Emma Lidbury, for giving Straygarden a home in the UK. Pam Consolazio, for all the beautiful grass and the last-minute cover magic! The copyeditors, Betsy Uhrig and Jackie Houton, for knowing things I didn’t. The proofreaders, Matt Seccombe and Julia Gaviria, for noticing things I couldn’t. Erin Farley, Rita Csizmadia, and Angie Dombroski: thank you, thank you, thank you.
To everyone at Candlewick Press and Walker Books UK: thank you for giving this story a home. Thank you for helping to turn it into an Actual, Real Book. This still feels like a miracle to me, and it probably always will. I’m so honored to be a part of the Candlewick and Walker family.
I also have to mention Kris Reynolds, who reads messy drafts and cheers me on; Rachael Romero, who believes in magic as much as I do; Lindsay Eagar, who gives me the space to be ambitious; Alison Lowry, who told me to keep going; and Kate Rogan at Love Books, who has always supported my writing.
To the librarians and teachers who have invited me into their libraries and classrooms, and to the young readers who ask questions about my stories: thank you. You remind me why I write.
I feel so deeply grateful for my family: Daddy, for believing in me unfailingly. Mama, for teaching me to notice things. Chalk, for challenging me and listening to me. You are my daily inspiration. Ash, for being my wonderful baby sister. Tam, for walking a path ahead of me. Tatum, for arriving on the eighth of December. Darfer, for being the very first droomhund. All the other magical dogs in the Chewins clan — especially Kimchi, Soju, Rosie, and Favey, who helped to inspire Evenflee, Seekatrix, and Peffiandra. And finally: Liale, my favorite person and forever-crush. Thank you for truly seeing me, for joy and adventures, and for never once saying maybe not. I love you.
