Page 46 of A Lady’s Guide to Witchcraft

“She’s lying,” Oliver spat.

“You’re very rude,” she said calmly. And quite correct, unfortunately. She had every intention of continuing to lie her face off if it would help her sister.

“Then you’ll submit to testing,” he added.

She did not know what that might entail exactly, only that the Order was not known for being gentle. Sweat broke out at the nape of her neck.

“The hell she will,” Ethan said with the kind of icy calm that could not be breached. He’d had his dagger to her throat minutes before, and now he seemed to want to protect her.

He really was a very confusing man.

“This is business of the Order, Crow.”

Ethan smiled, and it was sharp and deadly, as sharp and deadly as the dagger in his hand. “That’s Dragon to you.”

Oliver gulped. He tried to hide it, but Briar noticed. And she did not care how petty it made her—she enjoyed the sight. He was a pain in her backside in a way that only a Keeper with something to prove could be. She hoped Bear would arrive soon to keep him in order. Or better yet, let them decide that Petal had made her way to Hallow or Holdfast. Or the actual moon. Anywhere but right here, in the room above their heads.

Aidan held up a hand. “The spell led me here. There’s no need to test Miss Foxglove. A simple search of the cottage will do.”

“We’ll take another look in her bedroom.” Oliver smiled, and it made Briar a little sick to her stomach.

She could only follow as they marched up the stairs, helplessness choking her.

Oliver kicked Petal’s bedroom door open.

Briar waited for the shout of triumph, for an iron collar, the suffocation of her familiar trapped in a witch’s bottle. For Bramble to attack with her scissors, her teeth. She didn’t know how she could fight her way to her sister’s side, or even what to do when she got there.

A tree branch knocked loudly on the roof. Warning or comfort? She could not say.

“Nice work,” Ethan said, all sarcasm and boredom as he looked over their heads. “An empty bedroom. Nothing less than I’d expect from a Keeper.”

Oliver sputtered, face reddening. Briar inched closer. Petal’s bed lay empty, quilt rumpled. Bramble was also gone. The white roses pressed against the window, thorns dragging like claws. Oliver stomped around, knocking over books, pulling dresses out of Petal’s armoire. But there was no Petal and no moon egg.

Briar sagged against the doorjamb. She had no idea what was happening, but at least her sister was not being carted away in iron chains soaked in salt water for her familiar to be bottled. That was something. Everything. And neither was Briar.

Yet.

“If you are quite done stomping through my house in your muddy boots,” she said crisply to cover the unease still bubbling through her. “You can all see yourselves out.”

Sometimes all you could do was snap orders like a disappointed governess and hope for the best.

Seeing as most Keepers had been raised by nannies and governesses of one type or another, it was surprisingly effective. Oliver’s neck mottled even redder. Aidan looked embarrassed. Ethan just leaned against the back wall of the hall, one eyebrow lifted. If he had been raised by a governess, the lessons had not taken. But he was not the one she was trying to get rid of.

Briar looked down her nose at Oliver, which did take some doing, as he was much taller than she. “I will expect the Order to reimburse me for the mess you made. Teacups do not grow on trees.”

He glowered around the room once more. “Are you sure it’s not her?” he demanded of Aidan while pointing at Briar. “The Foxglove sisters are twins.”

“We are not identical,” Briar said drily. “Believe me, it is not hard to tell the difference.”

“I saw Petal Foxglove with my own two eyes.” Aidan was apologetic, clearly mortified to have been impolite in any way, but also not convinced that he was in the wrong. He was obviously very good at his work as a curator of magical artifacts. He knew something was amiss, but not what, exactly. It would have to be good enough for now.

Oliver shoved past them toward the stairs. “We’ll be watching you, Miss Foxglove.”

“I can’t tell you how safe that makes me feel,” Briar said, deliberately misunderstanding his threat. “But as you are the one causing me the most harm, I would prefer it if you found my sister instead,” she added, not preferring any such thing. “She might be in danger.”

“We’re not in the business of protecting thieves.”

Ethan caught her gaze. “But I am.”