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“It’s the summer solstice,” she hedged. “All of the flowers are plentiful. And the business with the shields has muddled the magic some.”

“Not like this. So now I am afraid we really do need that moon charm,” he said. “And we were given information that suggests you know more than you are letting on.”

By whom? Certainly not Ethan or Sorcha. Who, then? Someone who had seen her digging under the rosebushes? Unlikely. She was always digging in the dirt. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that.

Which left Charles Bloody Aster.

“Is this because of Charles?” Briar asked, incensed all over again. “He has a personal quarrel with my family and can hardly be trusted as impartial.”

“We take all evidence seriously,” one of the other Keepers said. “If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to be afraid of, do you?”

“That has not been my experience,” she said calmly, though she did not feel calm.

The Keeper at the table strewn with maps and scatterings of salt dropped the brass pendulum with an irritated grunt. “It keeps pointing to the roses, and the Foxglove cottage. And just now to headquarters since Miss Foxglove arrived. But nothing else.”

Not the ship. Bless Bramble and her rabbit magic and the Sea Dragons. Briar could only hope her own magic was as strong.

“Search her,” Oliver said, hauling Briar up by her elbow. He shook her once as if expecting the moon charm to fall from her person.

“That is enough,” Bear snapped.

“Sir, she needs searching.”

“Not like that. We are not Crows. And I was assured you were a gentleman. Act like it, damn it.”

Oliver released her, but the look he gave her sent a shudder through her.

“Miss Foxglove, I do apologize for him,” Bear added. “Once again.”

Briar nodded silently.

“We must search you for the charm,” he continued. “I am sure you understand.”

Her mouth went dry. She nodded again. She wasn’t sure what else to do. There were no plants nearby to appeal to for help, and the rowanberries on the ceiling were already charged with a magical purpose not easily altered. There was the tea in the canister, a jar of rosemary on the far table. Nothing that could get her out of this.

Bear approached her. “If you could stand, please?”

She stood, thoughts racing. She consoled herself that every moment they spent interrogating her was one fewer moment with Petal in their sights. Yes, she had stolen from the museum, and yes, it had triggered unfortunate and unforeseen events, but it did not warrant the things they would do to her. Trap her familiar, bleed her dry at the portal. Any number of spells with no guarantee of success.

Bear had a charm made of two crossed iron nails wrapped in red thread and piercing two rowanberries. A standard charm to either amplify or break witchcraft. It was secured to a small bottle in which a wasp buzzed against the glass. It would track any magic on Briar’s person and neutralize it, bound to the Keeper’s charm. She had heard of such a spell, but had never seen one. Or been the subject of one. Her legs tensed with the instinct to run. She noticed her chair sat in a circle of iron nails driven into the floorboards.

Bear pressed the charm over her witch knot. There was an immediate jolt of power, the smell of fennel, the taste of salt. Bear released the wasp. It buzzed around her head in an angry halo before widening its circle, bumping into a daisy still tangled in her hair, infused with the magic of the firefly wishes by the pond. The pink quartz stone in her ring, spelled by her mother for general beauty and very common to Haven. The strawberry vines she had embroidered on her sleeves for sweetness and abundance.

The wasp crawled along her neckline, and she held her breath. What did it do when it found something it did not like? Would it sting her? She had an understanding with the wasps in her garden. This one did not seem amenable to conversation.

When its wings tickled her skin above her stays, it took a great deal of effort to remain still.

The wasp buzzed again, waving its stinger. Briar flinched.

And then the wasp merely returned to the bottle she still held in her palm.

Because the moon charm was not tucked into her stays where it should be.

Ethan had nicked it again.

Thank all the spirits.

There was nothing to find on her person, no wayward magic, no moon charm. Briar exhaled slowly.