Page 73 of A Lady’s Guide to Witchcraft

“Miss Foxglove.”

Too late. She froze, cursing under her breath.

“Miss Foxglove, have you any news of your sister?” he called out loudly.

Heads turned, attention sharpening.

“How odd that she should go missing at the same time as the shields dropping.”

Someone gasped.

Briar vowed to put something in his next cup of tea to induce a rash. Or he could do with a few sores. Painful ones.

“Magic is unpredictable,” Briar returned calmly. Serenely, even. He wanted a reaction from her—they all did.

They would not get one.

“Even the Keepers fear the shields have trapped her in the between,” she added over her shoulder, hurrying away. “Thank you so much for your concern, Mr. Aster. How gentlemanly of you.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

She wanted to keep walking, but others had drifted into her path, frowning. A cat familiar swiped at her leg. Charles sauntered closer. His cravat points were perfectly starched. She hoped fervently that they poked him right in the eyeball.

“There have been Keepers at your tearoom,” he said. “And Iron Crows.”

The shocked whispers made her grind her back teeth. As she needed customers, she could not even threaten to poison anyone.

“Very suspicious, don’t you think?” Charles asked the gathering crowd.

“Is this true?” someone shouted. She did not recognize him. “Are you why I’m stuck here?”

“No,” Briar said. “My sister is missing. She didn’t drop the shields.”

Well, not on purpose, anyway.

Briar did not think anyone currently glaring at her would care for the distinction. This was precisely the sort of attention and delay that she could not afford. If Charles really did know where Petal was, she had to swallow her ire. Vengeance sang in her heart. But it would have to wait. “I assure you, we know nothing about the shields.” She added, “I am only worried for my sister.”

“I think you do know!”

“Why else would Keepers care about a tearoom?”

“Where is she?”

Someone shoved her. She was a small woman, but strong. And angry. Briar stumbled, not expecting it. Her cane stuttered on the cobbles.

“I want to go home!”

“Bring her to the Keepers!”

“Put her in an iron collar until she tells us how to get home!”

Another shove, this one hard enough to take Briar’s legs out from under her. She landed awkwardly, her basket spilling bright flowers at everyone’s feet. The golden bells for good luck rang.

The Keepers were tracking the moon charm. Worse, Lord Coventry was tracking it. It would only be a matter of minutes before they came for her if she stayed here much longer, tourists and villagers yelling at her, a stolen amulet piece between her breasts. The wild dance of magic from so many revelers would only hide her for so long. Especially with Charles trying to prove a point, showing his power, such as it was.

But he had miscalculated. Briar was perfectly willing to be pushed around if it meant keeping her sister safe.

The Dragon was not.