Marigold throws her arms over August and cheers. “It’s working! See, I told you! And now you’ll come to Bardshire!”
August pulls Lottie into an embrace. “And so will you, Lots. Our adventure has only just begun!”
Lottie tries to fight her way out of the group hug, but it is no use. They only wrap their arms tighter. “You know we cannot afford tickets on the ship,” she protests.
“I’m paying for both of you. Please, come,” Marigold says.
“It will be so fun, Lots. Please come on this adventure with us. You’ll always regret it if you don’t.”
“I’ll show you all the worthwhile sites. And you can meet my father! You can even take his art class!” Marigold says.
Lottie chews on her lip and tries to pretend she is not smiling. Her gaze flits between August and Marigold. “You two aren’t going to let me say no, are you?”
Marigold smirks and August laughs in response. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with us, Lots,” he says.
Lottie sighs, though there is a hint of excitement in her voice. “Fine. I guess we’re all going to Bardshire.”
Part Three
It is the start of autumn, and the ash is still warm. Still fresh. Still smells of what it once was.
Althea Murr is long gone. Her granddaughter is delicate and afraid. Everything is deliciously wrong. Ash magic bleeds from the dark runes that live deep in the Hazelwood Forest. And the will-o’-the-wisp, the specter that keeps Versa’s black heart beating while she waits to return to Innisfree, is awake. Beckoning.
Flickering.
It can sense that its creator is close.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Mr. Benny arrives at the Honey Witch house that evening, he finds two eager passengers waiting for him at the dock, and one slightly less eager passenger behind them.
“Is there room for two more?”
“Always room for friends,” Mr. Benny says with his soft and crooked smile.
Marigold feels much more anxiety than she cares to admit. Innisfree is her true home now, and she hates to leave it when the spirit guardians are going through such a strange metamorphosis, but she has no choice. It has been more than a year since she saw her family last. She has already missed too much. She promised Aster and Frankie that she would come, that she would be there for them, that they would still have their sister.
She cannot break that promise—now—or ever.
Beyond that, it is time to see her mother again. To speak, to share, and hopefully, to reconcile.
The small boat drifts through the night without a word from anyone. The sky above them is a clear, velvety blue that looks soft enough to touch. There is tension radiating off them, and poor Mr. Benny seemingly has no idea how to react. He is a particularly chatty person and clearly struggles to sit in silence for too long.
He clears his throat. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”
“Indeed!” August says, eager to have someone who hates thequiet as much as he does. “It has been a lovely summer, hasn’t it, ladies?”
Lottie does not respond, and neither does Marigold.
Has it been lovely? No, largely, this has been a cruel summer. She has missed her sister’s proposal, the landvættir are inexplicably ill, and now she has developed feelings for a girl who defies everything that her world is supposed to be.
Overall, the magic is worth it. This life is worth it—but she would not be herself if she did not allow for time to pout. Who made this rule that people cannot have everything that they want, all at once? She would love nothing more than to write them a strongly worded letter detailing her displeasure.
“Are you looking forward to your sister’s wedding, Miss Marigold?” Mr. Benny asks.
“Yes. Though I must admit, I am exceptionally relieved to not be going back to Bardshire alone.” When she turns, she finds Lottie’s gaze there waiting for her.
“We couldn’t let you do that, Mari,” August says as he reaches across the bench and places his hand on top of her knee. She stiffens at the mention of her old familial nickname. She has not heard it since she left home, and it makes her heart burn. She tries to hide it quickly, not wanting to make her friends more uncomfortable than they probably already are in a too-small boat on a journey to somewhere that they’ve never been, and likely would never have had any reason to go otherwise. Unfortunately, Lottie is particularly perceptive.
