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THEY STUMBLED OUT of Amira’s house as if fleeing a crime scene. They turned right and then left, winding their way back down the mountain path. Somewhere, a family was grilling outside, and the scent of fried meat filled Willow’s nose.

Willow lurched to the side of the trail, bent double, and vomited.

Cole was beside her in a heartbeat, pressing his hand to her back.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You’re not,” he replied. “And you shouldn’t be. Why would you be?”

He stayed at her side as they picked their way down the trail, his hand firm at the small of her back.

Willow didn’t protest. She still felt shaky, and her mouth tasted like bile.

It took her a moment to realize that they were no longer heading toward Ruby and Brooxie’s place.

Cole had taken a left when normally they’d have continued straight.

Willow glanced at him. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Cole said. “Let’s sit. Breathe. What do you say?”

Up ahead was a public rest area with a single picnic table, two single-sex bathrooms that were probably locked, and a vending machine.

Cole fed bills into the machine, and it spat out two icy bottles of Cheerwine.

“Aw,” Willow said. He opened one for her, and she drank from it gratefully.

They sat on top of the picnic table. Behind them was the dense and fragrant forest. Before them, far off, were the soft peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Between them and the far-off mountains was a great stretch of green.

No more burning meat. No goats. No thorns.

Blue jays bickered. Small animals rustled in the underbrush. A white squirrel leaped from one branch to another, the branch bouncing under the squirrel’s weight.

“Cole, look!” Willow said, pointing.

“The squirrel?” he asked.

“The white squirrel,” Willow clarified.

The squirrel scolded Cole in chitters and clicks, then flicked its tail, leaped onto the trunk of the tree, and scurried to a higher branch.

Cole chuckled. To Willow, he said, “We’re known for white squirrels in these parts. White squirrels and waterfalls. Didn’t you know?”

Willow shook her head. “Severine—she’s the queen of Eryth—said something about white squirrels.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She said they were good omens.”

Cole shrugged. “Okay, sure. Why not?”

Willow leaned close and nudged him with her shoulder. It was thrilling, nudging him with her shoulder. “‘Okay, sure. Why not?’” she parroted. “You could say that about anything.”

Cole set down his bottle of Cheerwine. He propped his feet on the bench of the picnic table and put his elbows on his knees, folding his forearms on top. “My mom said they were. And Micah—he loved that. You know how kids are. ‘Mama, look! A white squirrel!’”

He dropped his head and let it hang. Then he looked sideways at Willow from under a flop of hair. “The white squirrels weren’t good omens for him.”

Willow felt sadness descend. I saw a girl get beheaded, she almost said. But no. Not yet. The tightness in her throat was too painful.

“It’s funny that there were white squirrels in Eryth,” Cole commented. “Western North Carolina’s the only place I thought they lived.”

“I never actually saw one,” Willow said. “Not in Eryth.”

“Huh.”

“But I did see...” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Okay, this is going to sound weird.”

Cole gave her his full attention.

“You know about the Fade, right?” she said.

“Not much. Just that you have it or can tap into it.” He smiled wryly. “It lets you slip between worlds.”

She nodded. That was close enough. “Well, I have something else, too.”

“Another type of magic?”

“I guess,” Willow said uncomfortably. “Sometimes when I touch things, I have visions.”

Cole whistled. “Visions, huh? Could be good, could be bad—a magic like that.”

“It’s what let me see Eryth in the first place. It’s how I knew Eryth existed. And with the duskwyrm—well, I kind of had a vision when I touched him. In Eryth.”

“Okay,” Cole said.

Willow took a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she explained, haltingly, about Aesra and the Secret Sisters, the all-female guard that seemed to hold more power than anyone in Eryth, save for Queen Severine.

“And it was Aesra I saw in the vision,” she said. “The vision the duskwyrm gave me. She was brought into a room—she was just a kid—and made to stick her arm into a cage that held the wyrm. Aesra didn’t want to. They made her.”

“They sound great,” Cole said flatly.

“She cried afterward. One of the Sisters slapped her across the face.” She looked out over the mountains. “She kept getting bitten, year after year. But she didn’t...” She lifted her shoulders. “She looked normal. It wasn’t like what happened to Amira.”

“This Aesra—they were building up her immunity,” Cole said.

“Do you think so? That’s what I’ve been wondering. I wonder if they all go through it. The Sisters.”

“If these ‘Secret Sisters’ need yearly inoculations, the wyrm you saw in a cage wouldn’t have been the only one. They’d have to keep a farm of them. A hatchery.”

Willow pictured cage after cramped cage filled with jewel-scaled creatures, their lives reduced to a cycle of harvest and pain.

“Are they a threat in Eryth?” Cole asked. “The duskwyrms?”

“Not that I know of. Not to people going about their normal lives.”

“So maybe the Sisters use them in... I don’t know. Rites. Rituals. And they need to be protected.”

“Maybe,” Willow said. “Or maybe . . .”

Cole turned to her. “Tell me.”

Willow pushed her thumbnail between her teeth and nodded. Her theory had been threading itself together piece by piece since she’d left Eryth. She needed to lay it bare and see if it held.

“In our world,” she said slowly, “kids go missing. Not often, but... it happens.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Like Micah.”

“And a pile of jewels is left in return,” Cole said bitterly. “Are they taken to Eryth, these kids? If so, what happens to them there?”

Willow thought of the bedraggled bird she’d pulled from the pond. The goat, the dog, the possum. The baby suspended in algae like fruit set in Jell-O—

Nope. No. In what world—literally—would that story help Cole?

“In Eryth, things happen to little kids, too,” she said, opting to just plow forward. “Well, babies. But they’re not taken. They’re changed.”

“How?”

“You saw what happened to Amira . . . ?”

Cole gave a tight nod. “She looked like a burn victim, as if the fire had ignited inside her.”

“That’s what happens to the babies. One day, they’re perfect. Rosy cheeks and cute little bellies.” She thought of Maeve cowering on the dining hall floor, scrambling to clean up a mess that wasn’t her fault. “They’re burned from within, just like Amira.”

Horror rippled over Cole’s face. “This happens to babies ?”

Willow’s ribs constricted. “And in Eryth, when a baby ends up like that... it means they’re wicked, people say. The babies. That they brought it on themselves.”

“That is seriously fucked up,” Cole said.

“And when they grow up, they’re... well, people treat them really badly. They get the worst jobs, the worst pay—everyone’s really mean to them. They’re untouchables, basically, only in Eryth, they’re called the Blighted.”

“Sheesh, Willow.” Cole let out a bitter laugh. “I thought faeries were the Fair Folk. The Shining Ones.”

Willow’s heart thumped painfully. “I keep thinking about the Secret Sisters. The duskwyrms pose no real threat, so why would they need immunity?”

“A strange rite or ritual, like I said?”

“Yeah. Maybe. But they only strike if they’re provoked,” Willow continued. “And it takes a lot of provocation. With Amira, we both saw how much.”

“But supposedly, they sense wickedness in babies,” Cole said slowly.

Willow watched his face, wondering if he’d come to the same conclusion she had.

“Babies who are just lying in their cribs. Babies who aren’t bothering a soul.” Cole rubbed his chin. “But if a Secret Sister provoked one and then forced it into a baby’s crib...”

They looked at each other.

“Who do they work for, these Secret Sisters?” Cole asked.

“The queen,” said Willow.

“Okay, the queen. What can you tell me about her?”

Willow knew this was tricky territory. “Well, she’s Serrin’s mother, first and foremost.”

“Right. Because he’s the prince.” His arm, the one he’d draped over her shoulders, slackened. She felt him withdrawing, and she couldn’t bear it.

“No, please,” she said. What she was feeling was too scary and too new to say aloud, but she hoped he somehow knew, just the same. That she loved him, not Serrin. That he’d been here all along, and yet she had to go to Eryth and back to find him. That she wasn’t letting him go now.

She readjusted his arm, nestling close and wrapping his warmth around her. He resisted only for a moment, then tightened his grip and pulled her close.

“Her name is Severine. Her court reveres her. She’s beautiful and clever—and terrifying.

I didn’t learn much of this until recently, but I guess there was a rebellion long ago?

It failed, but rebels still exist.” She took a deep breath.

“And, Cole, that’s the thing. The babies that are blighted are always babies of rebel parents. ”

“There it is, then,” Cole said. “There’s the answer. The queen is orchestrating it all. She deploys the Secret Sisters in the dark of the night—”

“—and tells them which babies the duskwyrms should bite,” Willow finished, her pulse thudding sickly. “The Blighted aren’t wicked . They’re just tools. A way for Severine to maintain control.”

“She keeps her hands clean and her reputation untarnished,” Cole said. “Damn.” He hopped off the picnic table and held out his hand. She took it and climbed off, too. “Well, Willow, I feel sorry for Serrin. I do. But thank God you got the hell out of there.”