Girl of the Night Garden

Adrina’s bright eyes dim for a moment, but by the time she says, “Consider it done, Mommy,” she’s grinning again. A beat later, Timon snatches a second pastry and takes a huge bite. Adrina points a warning finger at his tart-stuffed cheeks, “Ah ah! I see what you’ve done there, taking the one with the most jam. I’ll remember that when you’re begging for half my treat after lunch.”

Timon laughs and says with a full mouth, “No, you won’t. You’re forgetful. And I’m your favorite brother.”

“You’re my only brother.” She ruffles his hair while he chuckles at what seems like a familiar joke between them.

This family has clearly suffered since Mr. Barolo became unable to work as a blacksmith, but they are just as clearly determined to seize all the joy they can from every day.

In that moment, with my mouth full of truly heavenly marmalade, at a table with kind, generous people who didn’t hesitate to welcome two shipwrecked strangers into their home and treat them like family, I decide I want to be like this. Like them. I want to be open and good, with nothing to hide. I want to spread hope and happiness and leave the world a better place than I found it.

And yes, I’d rather have a lifetime to do my good work, but if I only have today…

Then I will make that enough.

Chapter Fourteen

Declan

By the time we leave the village, hiking up a dusty road toward the north shore with an exuberant Timon in the lead, my jaw is so tight it feels like it’s about to snap in two.

Every step we took through the square, every stop we made, every weary woman we passed—exhausted by the weight of providing for her family without an able-bodied husband to help her care for their home and children—made my anger burn hotter.

This is Clara’s fault. She did this. She destroyed these people’s lives.

She stole Adrina’s father away from his family and broke all their hearts.

But she wants to stop. She wants to change. You heard her last night. She didn’t seem to realize the damage she’d done until now.

But the inner voice is a weak, whiny thing compared to the bonfire roaring inside of me. How can I trust anything Clara says? From the day I pulled her from the sea, she’s told one lie after another and she’s still lying.

She isn’t the half human daughter of a witch. She’s a witch herself, the most wretched witch of them all.

All witches steal and trick their way into money and power, but only the Night Witch wreaks havoc on such a massive scale. She’s the queen of nightmares, the universal enemy, her evil one of the few things the warring nations of the world can agree upon.

And I could end it here. I could free humanity from the plague of her.

All I have to do is work up the nerve.

I glance Clara’s way—see her laughing as she helps Timon off the ground after a failed cartwheel—and my stomach lurches at the thought of hurting her. I could no more push her off the edge of the cliff we’re climbing than I could strike Timon dead in the road.

I just want to pull her into my arms and go back to a time before I knew the truth.

But time is running out. Clara’s familiars are pressuring her to leave the island—and me—behind. If they succeed, I’ll have missed this chance. And who knows if I’ll ever get another one?

Yes, it will kill something in me to kill Clara.

But what’s one soul compared to so many?

My dark thoughts slow my feet, and I’m the last to reach the ruins at the top of the hill. There, Adrina is spreading a blanket amid the toothy remains of an ancient home, and Timon is already sliding down the chute of an old aqueduct, in direct defiance of his mother’s warning.

Clara, however, is no longer in sight.

I pick up my pace, searching for a sign of her. The idea that she has escaped while I dithered sparks a mixture of panic and relief that shreds my insides.

“Over there.” Adrina points to the top of the grassy hill. “She wanted to see the big waves. She thought you might want to see them, too. Asked me to tell you where she went.”

My shoulders sink and my held breath rushes out, even as acid rises in my throat. “Oh. Good.” Bad. “Thanks.” Why, God? Why now? Why me? But most importantly, why her?

Adrina’s brow furrows. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I wheeze.

She frowns harder. “You don’t look fine. And neither does Clara. Did you two quarrel last night? Or this morning? Things seem…tense between you. Different than yesterday.”

I shake my head. “No. We didn’t quarrel. I’m a little…distracted is all.”

She wrinkles her nose. “All right. Well, if that’s true, you should explain that to Clara before you hurt her feelings any more than you have already. My father always said—never let the sun set on your anger. Especially with the one you love.”