She hoped they’d use some of the money for the kids in the settlement where Amira lived, the goat girl with the blank eyes and the little boy who dreamed of Pixy Stixs.
“Be careful,” Ruby said fretfully, brushing imaginary lint from Willow’s peasant blouse, which Ruby had washed and ironed the night before.
“Stay alert,” Brooxie said. She nodded at Cole. “You too.”
“You know I will,” Cole replied.
“I do.” Brooxie gave a small smile as she looked from Cole to Willow. “You’re both just as stubborn as can be, aren’t you? I don’t know which of you is worse.”
“He is,” Willow said, while at the same time Cole jerked his thumb at Willow and said, “Willow. Obviously.”
Their laughter broke the buildup of tension, and the hugs Ruby and Brooxie doled out at the front door made Willowfeel supercharged. Competent. Not like a little girl but a young woman, marching clear-eyed into her future.
Outside, the sunlight was bright and warm, making the green leaves greener and catching dew drops that glistened on early morning spider webs. But the dog-collar chains and the rusted fence posts weren’t as off-putting as they’d been before. The path still twined and twisted, but Willow was more sure of her footing. Even the small animal bones dangling from the eaves of Amira’s porch could almost be interpreted as quirky mountain strangeness rather than something worse.
The teeth protruding from the clay smeared near her front door?
No.
The teeth had grown larger and sharper—Willow would swear to it. Willow looked away from them fast.
Amira frowned when she saw Cole by Willow’s side, but she let them both in. She must have known he’d insist on coming. She’d probably known even before Willow had.
Her dark eyes glittered as she looked the two of them up and down. Her fingers traced the edges of a folded piece of parchment.
“Good morning,” she said. “And congratulations. You will soon be on your way to the Box.”
“What?” Willow glanced around the room, scanning the shelves, the shadowed alcoves. “What do you mean ‘on my way’ to the Box? Isn’t it ready? Isn’t it here?”
“Patience, Willow, remains a virtue, even for those with the Old Blood. The Queen’s Box rests elsewhere. Sleeping. Waiting.”
Amira unfolded the parchment and spread it out across the counter. On it, an inked trail wound through stylized mountains and across rippling rivers. Tucked into a grove of what might have been pines was a single black dot.
Amira tapped it. “Here.”
The name beside the mark wasWorld’s End. Willow frowned. “World’s End? I’ve never heard of it. Is it in North Carolina?”
“It is a village high on Old Mother Mountain,” Amira said. “A village lost to time and wind, a place where only the foolish or the determined—”
“It’ll take a day to hike there,” Cole cut in. “I know it.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Amira said.
The loathing between them could have scorched rocks.
“Great.” Willow turned to Cole. “Do we need the map, or can you get us there without it?”
Amira lifted the map out of reach. “You need the map. There is, however, the matter of the blood oath to be tended to first.”
Willow felt a chill creep over her skin. She rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the sensation. It felt like pondweed—cool and slimy, like fronds clinging to her beneath the surface of still black water.
Amira folded the map and tapped the edge against the palm of her other hand. “With this, you will have all you need to find the Box. And the Box—if it accepts you—will transport you to Eryth.”
Cole tensed. Willow felt it in the slight adjustment of his weight and muscles.
“But to return from Eryth,” Amira continued, “you must bring me a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” Willow asked.
