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“I don’t know the West’s reasons. She never told me. But I assumed it had something to do with his abilities.”

“I’m shocked Glinda and the Wizard didn’t rescue him.”

Tin grunts. “I don’t think Glinda wanted him released. The Wizard cursed Gabriel so that he shifts into different animals depending on his mood. For her, that’s a liability. And the Wizard only does what benefits him, so his effort to rescue Gabriel was always minimal. Until he found a use for Gabriel, anyway.”

My first thought is that Rook must be so cruel to curse his own little brother, but if it’s stopped Glinda from killing animals as her source of magic, is he?

Just when I think I have him figured out, something contradicts it.

“Does shifting hurt Gabriel?”

“No. It only seems to hurt our mother.”

“Is that not also a bad thing?” I might not have known my biological mother, but Em was my parent in all ways but blood. I can’t imagine making a choice that would impact her in such a huge way.

“Our entire lives, the question has never been, what can I do for my sons? Instead, it’s been, what can my sons do for me?”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So you are taking the Wizard’s side?”

Tin stops again, suddenly this time, and holds out his arm, forcing me to go still. His body is tense, his hand fisted.

“What is it?”

“Shhh.” He puts one metal finger to his lips.

There’s a rustling to our left. As the seconds drag on, the rustling turns to a thundering beat of the earth.

There is no light to see, just the few feet in front of us and murky shapes beyond.

My heart pounds in my chest.

The thundering grows nearer. Tin slowly reaches behind him for his axe.

A dark silhouette emerges from the woods.

Tin pulls his axe from its sheath and brandishes it before him.

But it’s so dark and the figure is so fast that it’s charging past me before Tin can swing.

The momentum knocks me backward and I slam into a thick oak. The air in my lungs evaporates, leaving me gasping.

Panic seizes me, and I can’t think, can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.

There is only the sudden, burning terror.

Heat rushes through me and it’s too much to contain, too much for me to handle. I gnash my teeth, but a high-pitched keening comes out of me, echoing through the woods.

Ten feet in front of us, a pine tree erupts into flames.

Bright orange light fills the clearing.

The figure, a large stag, bellows against the sear of heat, then darts off for the shadows.

The flames crackle, licking toward the sky. One of the newer branches cracks and pinballs down to the ground.