Page 12

“I’ve got you,” Thorn whispered to her sister. Her chest clenched in fear. What had scared the unscare-able Brier so awfully? What had hurt her?

And if whatever it was had managed to hurtBrier, who had survived years of harvesting without even a scratch... what then?

But Thorn did not allow her terror to pull tears from her eyes. Not this time. Instead she stroked Brier’s tangled hair, which had fallen loose from her bun. “I’m here now, and you’re safe.”

What a funny, obvious lie that was.

Brier was the protector of this household—the rider, the fighter, the lightning girl.

How could a shadow protect the sun?

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Mazby insisted. “You saw wrong.”

Noro’s gaze dripped with scorn. “Oh, yes? I, a unicorn with perfect vision, somehowsaw wrongwhen a lightning bolt struck Brier in the chest and knocked her flat?”

The three of them had gathered in the sunroom while Brier slept in her bed upstairs, the burn covered with a thick bandage and a cooling salve. Night breezes slipped through the open windows; Thorn’s strands of metal and colored glass chimed softly. Noro lay curled up in a corner—his muzzle more slender than usual, his legs daintier, his tail mere silver wisps. It was a funny trick of unicorns, to be able to fit into small rooms despite their size. Noro had told Thorn and Brier that this was a sort of magic that only worked when the unicorn was at home—a comment that had made Thorn cry and Brier beam with pleasure. A unicorn thought of Flower House ashome.

The feathers on Mazby’s head were an indignant crown as heglared up at Noro. “I’m only saying that lightning doesn’t attack people.”

“It does now.”

Thorn hugged her favorite pillow to her chest. If she pressed her nose to just the right spot on the embroidered fabric, she could smell her mother’s perfume.

“I wish Mama was here,” she said quietly. “And Papa too.”

“We should write to them,” Noro said. Fireflies attracted by his horn bobbed throughout the room. “They should know what’s happened.”

“Wedon’t know what’s happened,” Mazby argued.

“We know Brier’s hurt. That’s enough.”

“And what’ll they do?” Mazby’s voice grew shrill. “Come rushing home from war before their rotation’s complete? Risk being exiled?”

Noro stared coolly at him. “Calm yourself. You’re starting to sound like a squirrel.”

The force of Mazby’s gasp knocked him off his cushion and into a basket of fabric scraps. When he clawed his way free, a rose-colored tassel clung to his feathers.

“How dare you,” he sputtered. “Thorn, will you let him get away with such comments?”

“Ah, of course,” murmured Noro. “Grifflets never fight their own battles. They must hire bigger creatures to do the fighting for them.”

Mazby screeched a battle cry and launched himself at Noro with claws extended.

Thorn caught him gently between her hands and brought him to her lap.

“Unhand me at once!” he cried.

She caught his beak between two fingers. “You’ll wake Brier. And hasn’t she been through enough today?”

Mazby’s feathers flattened. He swallowed and nodded meekly.

“And this is the first time you’ve seen lightning act in such a way?” Thorn asked, releasing Mazby’s beak.

Noro nodded once. “It has always tried to escape capture, but it has never turned on a harvester like that.”

Thorn stared at the floor, trying to quash the rising swell of fear in her chest.

“That harvester I heard, and the rumors going through the city. About the storms fading, and the harvests getting smaller.” Thorn looked up at Noro. “It’s true, isn’t it?”