Page 60 of Into the Heartless Wood
Maybe some unnatural ones, too.
I stare at my father. He stares back, letting the charts roll up again.
“How?” I say.
He shakes his head. “It would take immense power. Impossible magic. The kind of magic that makes worlds, or breaks them.”
My eyes go to the observatory window. To the Morwyn, winking at us from her new position in the dark expanse of sky. “Do you think this is the work of the Gwydden?”
“Her magic is in trees, not stars. Not even the Gwydden could be so powerful.”
I’m not so sure. Seren destroyed an entire train without even trying too hard, and the Gwyddencreatedher.
“Father—” I swallow. Start again. “Father, I have to go back to the wood.”
His face hardens. “Why?”
“Because she might know something about the stars.”
“The girl who lives in the forest.”
I nod.
He looks at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I tell him the truth. “She’s the Gwydden’s youngest daughter.”
His eyes go sad. “I knew the wood had its hooks in you. I didn’t know quite how deep they went.”
I don’t even know how to begin to explain. I look at him helplessly. “She’s not what you think. She did save Awela, that day in the wood. She’s saved me, countless times. And she’s—she’s not a monster. Not anymore.”
He sags before me. “I can’t just give you my blessing to climb back over the wall, Owen.”
“I know. But if Seren has any insight into that”—I gesture vaguely at the sky—“she’ll tell me. And then we can prepare for whatever it means. For whatever is coming.”
“Seren,” he repeats.
“Seren,” I say.
He sighs, rubs at his temples. “Go, then. I want to believe you’ll be wise. I want to believe you’ll be safe, that she truly means you no harm. But if nothing else—if nothing else, I’ll believe you if you promise to come back.”
My throat tightens, and tears burn at the back of my eyes. “I promise.”
He pulls me into a swift hug. “I’m sorry I was so angry.”
“You had every right to be.” I squeeze his shoulders, and draw back. “What are you going to do?”
He shakes his head in bewilderment. “Chart the stars’ new positions as best as I can, and then send a telegram to Breindal City in the morning. I suspect the king will want the charts early this month.”
“I suspect he will.” I turn to leave the observatory, but pause in the doorway.
“Be careful, Owen.” His voice breaks.
“I’ll see you soon,” I promise.
I go to find my tree siren under a wholly new sky.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
