Chapter Two
POPPY
My feet dug into the beanstalk, hands gripping it tightly. The ground was so far below. A drop like this would kill me, yet I wasn’t afraid. Gran had always said it was because the sky was woven into my blood. Wind howled around me. The lower I climbed, the less wind would be a factor. I began my descent, working my way down slowly, carefully. This high up, the gales whipped the hood from my head, my cloak flailing wildly, the feathers on my wings fluttering. A flock of birds soared past me, so majestic as they swooped upward, then veered sharply and flew toward a cluster of trees beyond the meadow.
If only I could join them. If only I knew how.
My wings twitched again on my back, almost as if they sensed the creatures flying through the sky and itched to do the same. Sweat trickled down the sides of my face and my heart thumped erratically in my chest. I was definitely out of shape. I continued to climb, down, down, down, muscles beginning to quiver with the effort until I finally reached the ground.
My feet planted in the soft ground, damp after a recent rain. It rained quite a lot here in the sky court.
I reached for the hood of my cloak and covered my face, just like Gran always taught me. Her voice was a constant in my mind.
“Don’t do anything foolish, girl. Remember, I saved you, have risked much to raise you.”
Over the years, I’d tried to do exactly that, to repay Gran for everything she’d given me. But I wasn’t sure I ever could. I’d keep trying though.
The sun continued to sink in the purple-streaked sky, stars emerging and twinkling above. I would need to hurry this plan along before it got too dark to see anything. I’d forgotten to bring the lantern. I swore softly but shook my head. No matter. I knew the forest surrounding this tower well and would find what I needed quickly.
The tower stretched high in a meadow, surrounded by mountains on three sides and a wooded area beyond that. Wildflowers sprouted from the ground, tall, nearly reaching my head. I trailed a finger along the leaf of a radish plant.
Long ago, Gran and I had cleared away the space around our tower, planting our own gardens full of potatoes, onions, beets, turnips, arugula, cabbage, leeks, and various herbs and spices. The one I needed, a special kind of mushroom, grew in the forest. It helped ease coughs, and I liked to use it in stews. It was exactly what Gran needed right now.
The stone tower loomed behind me, and I arched my neck, hoping Gran was still asleep and resting. The last thing she needed was to wake up and work herself into a fury over my absence. Then I would feel even worse than I already did.
I scooped up the woven basket Gran used for foraging and picked my way across the field of wildflowers, letting my hands run through them, feeling their rough stalks, their soft petals.
The woods spread out before me, tall thin trees with triangle-shaped canopies, the view through the trees dark and foreboding. Pinecones and sharp pine needles littered the ground. I glanced behind me at the meadow, bathed in the sinking sun. I wished I could stay a little longer, sit among the wildflowers and bask in the beauty of it all. But I needed to get this done.
Tree branches swatted at me as I hurried between their hulking forms, and the farther I delved in, the darker it became. Chitters andchirps filled the silence, the sound of feet pattering across the forest floor echoing all around.
Not many ventured into this forest. Gran had once told me many believed it to be cursed by Spirit Sky himself.
“Idiots,”she’d said.“The lot of them.”
I ducked under a branch, eyes searching for the mushrooms I needed, though it was getting harder to see in the dim light. The basket swung at my side, gently thumping against my waist.
The nearest village was a three-hour walk, so we were truly alone out here. The occasional brave soul ventured into the forest to forage its valuable mushrooms and herbs. I’d even made acquaintances with a few of the foragers and their children over the years. Gran had always told me to pretend I was a forager as well, to never tell anyone about our tower. It was paramount to our safety that no one knew where we lived.
It had been hard to make friends that way, but I had fond memories of frolicking through the forest with other children, and as we got older, our games turned to walks, to talking, sitting and enjoying the slivers of sun that crept into the forest. Gran and I had created a story: Gran was a human whom my parents had hired to be my nanny, and when they died, she took over in caring for me. It was enough that they didn’t ask questions, though they still didn’t entirely trust the mysterious old woman who didn’t have wings.
One of these acquaintances had even tried to convince me to run away with him. A boy I’d had a crush on. I’d been horrified, told him I couldn’t leave Gran. Not when she needed me. He’d told me that’s what children do. They grew up, and they left. They didn’t owe their parents for raising them. That was a parent’s job. But Gran wasn’t my parent. She hadn’t given birth to me. She’d chosen to save me and sacrifice her life in doing so. Isolated us in a tower to keep me safe. I wouldn’t repay that by abandoning her. Of course I couldn’t tell him any of that, not when he thought I was just visiting the forest, foraging for herbs, same as him.
That had been a long time ago, and here I was. Still with Gran, still trying to take care of her like she’d always taken care of me.
A cluster of mushrooms sprouted from the forest floor, green with blue spots all over them. Aha. Just where I thought they’d be. I crouched down and plucked them from the ground, dropping themone by one into the basket. This would ease Gran’s cough, heal whatever was ailing her.
A chill skittered over me, and I froze in my crouch, recognizing the cold that crept into the forest. I’d felt that same cold whenever Gran used her magic to bend shadows to her will. I slowly stood and saw the shadow lurking over me, wispy and black. This one’s form was large, big hands, broad chest, curly mop of hair. Whoever this belonged to must’ve been a mighty person to behold, and I wondered what it was doing in our forest. Gran told me shadows dwelled in the shadow court, and if I ever saw one, I was to run. Its red eyes peered at me, and it swooped down. I ducked as it whooshed over my head.
“Poppy, get away from there.” Gran’s voice split the air, and I jolted upright.
“Gran, what are you doing here?” I hissed.
She stood at her full height, which was still shorter than me, clutching her side, dark skin covered in sweat. Her blue silk bonnet still covered her short white hair. I cursed myself. She’d either used her magic to get down here—most likely the tower’s shadow, which she could bend to her will—or she’d climbed the beanstalk. Either way, she’d exerted far too much energy, her hands trembling, her back hunched.
“You used the magic bean.” Her voice was accusatory. The big shadow hissed, and Gran’s eyes flicked to it. She held out her hand. “Come, we must go.” She lunged forward and gripped my arm tight, pulling me.
“No, Gran! Our basket?—”
