I search for something to say, some way to let Astrophel down – but gently.
A stifled sob from the other side of the cabin saves me. Tansy is sitting hunched in on herself, tears glistening on her cheeks.
‘Tansy needs me,’ I whisper, slipping my hand from Astrophel’s. ‘We’ll talk more later.’
I scramble to my feet before he has a chance to stop me.
‘Is it Briar?’ I ask Tansy. Again, that cool flicker of dissent, my brandsong insisting there’s more to her tears than that. Still, it seems a safe place to begin. ‘I understand how hard it is, being separated from your Guardian.’ And I do understand that loss. Keenly. Without Orthriel, I’m a sunless planet, cut adrift.
Tansy dabs her face. ‘No, it’s… it’s nothing like that. I miss Briar, of course I do. I’m worried to death about her all alone in that cabin. But that’s not… that’s not why…’ Tansy’s face creases. ‘It’s the twins. Dawnrise marked their second tree-ring.’
Ignoring the dread swoop of my stomach, my visceral response to the mention of children for as long as I can remember, I drape an arm around Tansy.
‘They’re too young to understand why I’m not there,’ she sobs.
I squeeze her shoulder. ‘Glade is taking care of them, and when they’re older, they’ll understand you loved them so much, you risked your life to ensure their futures. They’ll be so proud.’
Her mouth lifts at the corners in the barest of smiles. She turns to the window, to the faint glow of the mountain peak. ‘At least it won’t be long. I’ll see them soon.’
This time it’s harder to ignore the lurch of my stomach. It will devastate Tansy when she learns we need to seek the other lost sceptres to fulfil the prophecy, that she won’t be returning to her family – not for many moons. How can I possibly hope to assuage the pain?
‘Thank you,’ Tansy says, wiping her eyes again. ‘Talking about it’s easier than trying to bear it alone.’
I’m momentarily distracted from whatever Tansy is saying by the moonslight, the lavender glow spilling through the cabin’s small, grimy window, catching the point of Tansy’s chin as she raises it to look at me.
I wonder…
I squeeze her shoulder again, but my mind is already elsewhere. Formulating a plan.
*
IWAITTILLrasped breaths and stillness confirm the others are asleep. Folding an extra fur over my arm, I creep towards Tansy and shake her awake.
‘Put on your cloak and meet me outside.’
Tansy blinks, her eyes still sleep-glazed, then nods.
My boots crunch fresh tracks in the feathery surface hoar as I round the curve of the ledge, far enough from the cabin that even if someone wakes and looks outside, they won’t see us. I wrap my cloak more tightly around me, warding off the icy wind, feeling for the corner of the box concealed beneath it.
After a couple of minutes, Tansy follows me out of the cabin.
‘Are the others still asleep?’
Tansy nods, stifling a yawn. Her hair is mussed, the curls wilder than ever.
I spread the extra fur and sit down, motioning for Tansy to join me, then draw the box containing the mooncrystal from the folds of my cloak.
‘What’s that?’ Tansy asks. ‘Why am I here?’
‘It’s easier if I show you.’ I open the catch and place the orb in front of me. Moonslight glances over its polished surface, and the night air bites my fingers as I place my hands either side of the crystal. ‘I don’t know if this will work, but I’d like to try…’
Taking a cleansing breath, I focus on emptying my mind, banishing the anxious thoughts running rampant there. Yes, it’s risky. Yes, there’s a chance I’ll reopen that strange, unstable connection with Arden. Trying this might even cost me the vision I so desperately want of my mother, but I’m about to ask Tansy to abandon her family for moonscycles, to place herself in mortal danger. I owe it to her to try this.
The tingling in my fingers is faint at first, but grows stronger, soon turning to that familiar drag, as if the crystal is leaching something vital from me. I ask the same silent question again and again, waiting for images to form in the centre of the orb. But the crystal remains silent.
My heart sinks. I’ve dragged Tansy out here for nothing.
I loosen my grip, am about to lift my hands away entirely, when a shadow swirls beneath my fingertips. The image sharpens. A slatted interior, garlanded with brightly coloured flowers. The faint scent of resin seems to carry on the breeze. Two small boys, with the same tawny curls, vivid green eyes and wide smiles as their parents, sit at a wooden table.
