The girls jump with excitement. Mae rips nightshade from the wall and tucks it behind her ear. A worm drops to the floor with a plop, and I cannot say whether it fell from the flower or her ear.
“Gemma?” Pip extends her hand. “Will you join our debut ball?”
Creostus’s death has cast a long shadow across my soul. For the first moment in a very long time, I do not care for a party. I do not want to forget my troubles or attempt to fill the holes deep inside us with fleeting illusions.
“I’m afraid I’m not in a festive mood. You’ll have to have your party without me.”
I expect an argument. Pouts and tears and begging for me to turn the castle into the Taj Mahal, our skirts into Parisian gowns. Instead, Pippa smiles brightly.
“Oh, Gemma, darling, you rest. I shall do it all.”
She closes her eyes and reaches her arms forcefully to the castle’s ancient rafters. An ecstatic smile spreads across her lips. Her body trembles, and the castle begins its transformation. The grime clears from the windows till they gleam. The vines recede, clearing enough floor for dancing. Mold vanishes from the walls and the ceiling, and in its place is a dark purple carpet of berries and belladonna.
Awestruck, Ann turns round, taking in the whole of the chapel. “How did you do that?”
“It seems the magic is changing. Gemma isn’t the only one with the power,” Pippa answers.
“That’s extraordinary,” Felicity says, and there’s a hint of sadness in her voice. “Can you gift it to others as Gemma can?”
Pippa reaches into a tangle of berries and selects the biggest, which she eats. “No. At least not yet. But when I am able, you can be certain I will share it without delay. Now, we must prepare for our debuts!”
“Pippa,” I say, more harshly than I mean to, “might I have a word with you?”
Pip gives the other girls a playful pout and rolls her eyes, and they laugh at my expense. “I shan’t be but a moment,” she says. “You might practice your curtsies while I’m away.”
Pip and I travel the winding staircase. A mouse has been caught in the spider’s web. It lies trapped in a shiny cocoon of silk, barely moving, knowing its fate. We reach the top of the stairs and I can feel the chill in the air. In the distance, the shadows of the Winterlands beckon. But I do not feel its siren song so strongly tonight. The sight of Creostus lying on the ground is fresh in my mind.