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“What did he take?”

“I’m not sure. He dropped me with a sleep spell and it’s all been a bit muddled since.”

“That’s convenient,” Oliver snapped.

“I did not find it so.”

“I say we take her in. Question her properly!”

Briar’s pulse was too loud in her ears. Keepers had spells and charms she could not hope to fight against, not with ivy vines and rose petals. Not even with a helpful blackberry bush or a giant oak tree. Or poison berry.

Bear only asked her, “Where were you that you came upon him? Did you not hear him break in? The state of your door implies he was not subtle.”

“I was out for a walk,” she replied.

“At night?” Oliver asked.

She laughed. It only sounded a little strangled. Surely allowances could be made for a shopgirl who had faced down an Iron Crow. Not to mention the Sea Dragons. Not that she had any intention of telling them about Ethan. Nor his crew, or his ship. And not that she was entirely sure why she was determined not to. “It is the Midsummer Festival, Mr. Dawson. You will struggle to find anyone at home.”

The actual solstice was not for several days, but Haven was already bustling. The bakeries were filled with pastries and pies, the bathing machines lined up on the beach for rental. Bunting draped from the white houses with fluttering ribbons. There were bonfires in the sand, fireworks, stalls that stayed open late to sell strawberry wine and pasties filled with potatoes and green peas.

And by now, she imagined Haven was fair bursting with whispers of the shields slamming shut.

“What is this about?” she asked. “Why are you looking for my sister?”

“We have it on good authority that she has stolen something of great import.”

Briar sucked in an offended breath. “How dare you, sir. My sister is not a thief.” Except for when she absolutely was.

“If we could talk to her, we could be on our way,” Bear said.

“I wish you would, as I am quite sure she could clear up this ridiculous misunderstanding.” She tilted her head. “Surely you have charms and the like? For tracking? As Keepers.”

“We do,” Oliver replied stiffly.

She was going to hazard a guess that that meant they had tried but not been successful in tracking her sister. Some of the trepidation tightening her chest loosened. Bramble must be the reason behind it. Rabbit-girl magic was the best for hiding. Even the Order was no match for them.

As to that, Briar ought to take advantage of it while she could.

“You are welcome to check her room upstairs,” she offered. “If it will put your mind at ease.” Better to search her room now than later. It might buy them a few days. A few hours. Even a few minutes would help at the moment. “If you’ll follow me?”

Briar stopped to take a lemon sweet from a glass jar on the long counter. Fatigue was nibbling at her, and even the fear was not enough to stop it fuzzing her thoughts. And she could not afford that.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Oliver demanded suspiciously.

Briar showed him the candied lemon drop before popping it in her mouth. “It was made with water and honey gathered under the noon sun last Midsummer. People use them on solstice night to stay awake for the dawn watch of the sunrise. It should help counteract the last of the sleep spell. I am not feeling at all well.” She wondered if being ill all over his shiny London Hessian boots would hurry him along. It was not outside the realm of possibility. She really did feel awful.

The white stairs were painted with red roses, pots of wild mint and violets on each step. There was a crack in the plaster they had not had a chance to mend. The traditional blue evil eye was painted over doorways and windows. Just the very ordinary cottage of two witches on a summer island. Nothing of import to see.

No stolen moon charm.

No Dragon.

“What did you say Petal was accused of hiding?” That was something she ought to ask, wasn’t it? “And who accused her? I should like to give them a piece of my mind.”

“A moon charm has gone missing from the Museum of Magic,” Bear said.

Briar frowned. “The museum in London?”