“And who would lead it?”
“We would, of course. You and I.”
“Not the others?” Tav remembered the private lessons, the secrecy, the insistence that they were special. No one else was given the morsels of knowledge that Tav was offered, handed out like a handler training a dog.
“They can’t handle the responsibility. But we can, Tav. We can bear the burden. You just need to share the Heart’s power with me, and everything will change.”
Justice. Change. Power. Those words had once been irresistible to Tav, but now, spoken with such hunger, Tav heard them differently. Why did the Hedge-Witch care about the treatment of queer people, people of colour, poor people? The truth settled like sediment in their stomach: she had never meant to share power with Tav. She had only meant to use them to gain control of the city. Perhaps even to build her own Coven on the blue planet. Eli had been right, after all — the Hedge-Witch couldn’t be trusted.
But she could still be useful.
Tav leaned forward. “We still have the same goals. But I have to do this first. You need to trust me.” They forced the next words from their mouth. “If you help me with this, I will give you the Heart.”
“Pretty words from a human. You’ve already broken one promise.”
Tav took a switchblade out of their pocket and pressed its thirsty tip against their palm. Three drops of blood fell into the dregs of their coffee. They pushed the cup across the table. “I swear it on my blood.”
Outside, a car was waiting. Jazz music danced through the open windows.
The Hedge-Witch raised the mug to her lips and purred. “I will help you.” She drank deeply, and Tav’s sense of foreboding grew with every swallow.
Outside, a car waited for them. The driver of the dirty black Hyundai wore a pair of aviator sunglasses and was playing with his moustache.
With trembling hands, Tav opened the door and climbed in.
“I told you not to come.”
“I thought you might need backup.”
“You were right.” They shuddered violently, their body shaking off the stray threads of the Hedge-Witch’s magic that clung to their clothes and hair.
“What about the bike?” he asked.
“I don’t think I can drive. We’ll come back for it later.”
A few bars of trumpet played between them.
“Does she know?” he asked finally, face creased in worry.
Tav shook their head, heart pounding. “No.”
As they took off down the city streets, raindrops starting to fall forlornly on the asphalt, Tav realized Cam had probably meant the Hedge-Witch.
THE HEART
A girl and a ghost watched Tav get into the car and drive away. To Eli’s surprise, Tav’s prized motorcycle was left behind, looking lonely and sad.
“What do you think?” she asked the ghost.
The ghost said nothing.
“I think it’s trouble.” She sighed, playing with her blades. The obsidian knife called to her from where it rested against Tav’s skin. She could follow Tav anywhere. They were a burning arrow in the night.
“Should we check it out?” She nodded at the café, the pulse of magic sending off alarm signals in her fingertips. But hey, she was the Heart — what could go wrong?
The ghost turned around and started walking away.
“You’re probably right. It isn’t the right time.”
She went to retrieve the bike. It was a good thing she’d had Cam make copies of the keys. She could kill the Hedge-Witch later.
It was the only way Tav could be free.
Sixteen
THE HEIR
“You have proven yourself a traitor to the throne. We should celebrate!” Clytemnestra appeared while Kite was trying to read, having set up a makeshift desk and bookshelf in one of the stone chambers in the Children’s Lair. Every so often the walls would shake violently, dirt sprinkling over her page. The Coven had sent patrols into the Labyrinth, and their magic was upsetting the living, breathing walls.
Kite had been thinking about Eli.
Kite looked up. “Have you heard from her? I think I found a way to restore her shattered blade. I found it in this manuscript under —”
“Can we do that after we burn down the Coven and let a few fire creatures loose and make bets on who lasts the longest?”
“We’re not burning down the library!” Kite’s hair floated around her head, poised like coiled serpents.
“You’re no fun.” Clytemnestra stuck her tongue out. “And neither is that broken thing you insist on keeping. I want a new doll.”
“You love old, broken things.” Kite smiled, her hair swirling in lazy loops. “New things all taste the same.”
“I want a new doll.”
“I’ll get you one.”
“I want one now.”
Kite’s hair snapped down like a whip, leaving red welts on her bluegreen skin. “Be patient, little one.”
“Oh, I’m very patient, young one.” Clytemnestra reached out and stroked Kite’s hair. “But the children are not. I’ve promised them some fun, and you know how babes get when you ruin their game.”
“That’s your problem, not mine, Warlord.”
“It’s our problem now, traitor.”
“You forget yourself. I’m still the Heir.”
The two witches stared each other down, glowing bluegreen orbs meeting the painted eyes of a china doll. And then Clytemnestra flew up into the air, her skirts flowing around her.
“Your Majesty.” Clytemnestra performed an upside-down bow mid-air, twisting like a circus performer. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I am your loyal subject. I only request, as your humble servant, that you —”
“I said I’ll get you one. Soon.”
Clytemnestra smiled widely. “That’s a good girl. You’re one of us now.” She vanished with a pop.
Kite looked down at the book and sighed. With all the commotion, she had lost her place on the page.
Seventeen
THE HEALER
The morning broke like a dinner plate, jagged and precious. Pale yellowpink light poured through the attic window and onto the tired bodies inside, worn down by expectations and secrets.
“Help yourself,” said Cam, who was probably on his third cup of coffee.
Tav shook their head. “I don’t want to crash later.”
“I don’t plan to crash until tonight.” Cam winked. “The trick is to not stop.” He took another sip and let
