Page 98 of A Lady’s Guide to Witchcraft

They grew into sharp, thorned thickets, choking the grasses and the thistles even as she watched. Briar already knew they would stand against sword and dagger and witch’s boline. The smell of roses was thick with salt and fennel.

She tried every counterspell she could think of—she pushed salt into the roots, burned rose petals, sang a song about barren stone fields, winter ice. She tore at the vines until her fingers were slick with sweat and blood. Her swan attacked with its sharp beak.

None of it worked.

The spell would not answer to her. The magic had gone too wild, fed by too many other hands. She found a sparrow trapped in a tangle of thorns and carefully set him free, knuckles and fingertips scraped and cut.

“I don’t understand what’s happeni—Unless.” She sat back, still kneeling on the prickly ground. Ethan speared a vine when it tried to wrap around her ankle. The burn of green witch magic stung.

“Unless what?” Petal demanded.

“When we had to hide you from the Keepers that first night, I stashed you in the rosebushes. I asked them to grow so thick no one would ever find you.” Briar picked up a petal, and it made her witch knot tingle, magic racing through her palm. She dropped it when it reminded her too much of the truth spell electrifying her brain. “You had the moonstone on you then, only I didn’t know it. I think the roses followed you here to find you for the tracking spell, but also to protect you for me. And that must be why there were white roses where I found the amulet pieces, as well. It’s all tangled together.”

Aidan looked down toward Haven, grimly serious. “Your spell is going to take over all of Lyonesse in order to hide your sister.”

She could see it too. It would swallow all of Haven, trapping people in their homes, in the streets. It would pierce skin and bone. Then it would travel to Hallow and Holdfast. It would strangle Ethan’s ship, bringing down the masts, stuffing the cannons with leaves and thorns and pale, moon-colored petals.

“Blast,” she said. “I never meant to do this!”

“This is not your fault,” Ethan said sharply. “There are too many damn spells at work here.”

She made a fist, the blood from her pricked thumb smearing onto a rose.

It paused.

Then it recoiled.

Paused again.

Briar let out a breath.

Ethan cursed. “If anyone mentions this, they die. Are you hearing me, Coventry?”

Aidan nodded. “You have my word.”

Briar was still staring at her blood on the petals.

Her blood could stop the roses.

She knew as well as anyone that if the information reached the Iron Crows or the Keepers or anyone on Lyonesse, they would drain her dry if that was what it took.

And she might not blame them. They were about to be strangled to death by white roses.

She stood up, using her new cane to steady herself, and looked at Ethan. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Petal said. “I have an idea.”

Bramble was the only one who did not shudder in fear.

When they were little, Briar and Petal had loved building scarecrows in the vegetable garden. They wove willow twigs into knights and sorceresses and mighty queens, all draped with roses and daisies and wild mint. Crowns of clover and dandelion were braided together; foxglove swords were crafted. They protected the cabbages and the onions and the carrots and the crab apples in the orchard.

And when a particularly persistent suitor would not leave Petal alone, Briar made a poppet of him and stuffed it with rue and stinging nettle. He had developed such a nasty rash that he left the island altogether to search for a cure in London. No one had tried to touch her sister again for a very long time after that.

Tonight, Petal helped her make poppets of thorny roses, smeared with Briar’s blood to distribute throughout the village. Ethan hissed out a warning, clearly displeased. But if nothing else worked, Aidan could gather all of the villagers at the bonfires and make a protective circle with the poppets. It should keep the roses at bay long enough for Briar and Ethan to reach Holdfast and help the Iron Witches put things to rights.

But Briar was not only the twin sister to a moon-charm thief or the most beautiful witch in Britain.

She was also a green witch.