‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I say when we’re done putting it away, and Mrs Mandrake sits at the table opposite Nan and looks down at my list. Her brown eyes are dancing when she looks up again.
‘What’s this about scented pens?’ she asks with a smile. ‘And a calculator? A PE kit! Did you win her over, Stella?’
‘No. She was flagrantly disobedient and off she went without permission,’ Nan says. ‘And she’s determined to continue, so we’re calling it a trial period.’
‘Good job,’ Mrs Mandrake says. ‘About time she got herself out there in the world.’
Nan huffs, and Mrs Mandrake winks at me. And then she dashes back out to her truck to get the crumpets to go with the tea, and I light the fire. I love Mrs Mandrake’s visits.
The warm feeling stays long after Mrs Mandrake leaves for her other errands, and even after Nan has disappeared again. Peg stays close, and after we’ve eaten all the chestnuts and about half the fruit loaf, I head out in a bit of a dream to set the charms.
The night sky is soft, stars flicker between scattered clouds over the moors, and the wind is singing through the silver wire. Peg has taken his true form for the night: a gleaming bronze imp with tiny red horns just above his ears, and curling, nimble hands and feet.
I love it when he’s just being an imp; I could watch him for hours. Only he doesn’t like it too much, being peered at. He bounds up now and sits on my shoulder and folds his arms and scowls, when suddenly the charms begin to ring.
‘What’re they doing in there?’ he mutters.
‘What they always do, I suppose,’ I say.
‘No. Nothing stays the same in there for long.’
‘I thought you went back in sometimes. You know, as our watch-bird?’
‘Watch-bird,’ he scoffs. ‘Well as to that, I did,’ he says. ‘For a long time. But it’s changed in the last weeks. It’s darker now, and I am not welcome. The shadows are everywhere. Most of the good folk spend their lives fighting or plotting escape.’
‘There’s a boy at school . . . I think maybe he lives in the forest.’
‘Don’t tell Nan,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound surprised. ‘She’ll worry. It’s one of the things I discovered, last time I was in there. Some families send their children to the school so that they get a human education and live in the human world, away from the forest. They started when the shadows took over, but only some are able: those who can pass for human, and those who are good at glamouring. I guess your boy is one of them, and Nan’s glamour does the job for you. For now . . .’ He looks me up and down, as if to check it’s still working.
‘I didn’t realize that was happening. Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘These things are for you to discover. You made your choice when you started at the school.’
‘And you were cross, so you thought you wouldn’t tell me something so important?’
‘Nobody ever said the school would be a safe place, Stella. Nobody said it would be a good idea. You decided to go anyway. And now you are discovering things for yourself. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘I always thought you’d tell me if something important happened in there. I know you like your secrets, but—’
‘But nothing. You need to use your own eyes, and your own judgement. If I truly thought you were in danger, I would tell you. It was always a tricksy sort of place; now, even the skies are darker for it.’
I look at the sky over Winterspell and notice for the first time that the stars above are glowing red.
‘Shouldn’t we do something?’
‘You and I?’ He grins, his sharp teeth glinting. ‘And Nan? Against all the king’s army of shadows? We tried that, Stella. Your presence in Winterspell only made them fiercer. You’re doing what you can, with all your learning.’
‘That doesn’t help the fae in there, though.’
‘They are fighting,’ he says. ‘And mostly, they are winning. The fae have always loved a good battle.’
I stare into the gloom.
‘Aren’t we ever going to try again, then?’
‘Oh, we will,’ he says. ‘When the time is right.’
‘So for now, we just have to wait? I don’t know what we’re waiting for, Peg. It’s stupid to live so close when we can’t go in there.’
‘It is not stupid!’ He draws himself up with indignation, a spiral of smoke escaping his nostrils. ‘Nan’s power is connected to Winterspell; that’s why we stayed so close. And one day, the time will be right, Stella. You will go in there, and you will find the palace.’
‘Well let’s just hope that’s before the shadows have spread too far to be contained,’ I say with a shiver, a little bit cross and a little bit relieved. As much as I want to march in there and find that cursed palace and stop the shadows’ sprawl, the thought of fighting through them again is terrifying, and so is the idea of my Shadow King father. I cannot imagine ever feeling ready.
Peg doesn’t say anything, because there isn’t a right thing to say. We both know it’s happening. Young ash trees encroach further every season, their grey bark catching the moonlight and making stripes across the ever-diminishing moorland that stretches between the forest and our perimeter. And with them, come the shadows.
9
I hit the dusty old books over the rest of the weekend, while storms rage about the house. There’s little else to do. Nan is recovering from Mrs Mandrake’s visit and only really emerges at mealtimes to make sure I’m eating my greens, and the rain drives down into the soil and makes a swamp of the garden.
I want to know more about fae curses, and the grief of kings, and how we’re going to fight the shadows. Something like this must have happened before, somewhere. But the books that line the study shelves aren’t exactly organized, and many of the covers are so worn, it’s impossible to make out the writing along the spine.
Peg pretends he’s scandalized by the turn of my study. He thinks I should leave the whole thing alone, but I can tell he’s not really that cross. He loves the old books – a little too much, actually.
‘Peg!’
‘It just smelt so good,’ he manages around a mouthful of paper. It smokes a bit in his mouth.
‘I might need that page!’ I stare at him. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘Change,’ he says. His eyes glow. ‘It’s uncomfortable – good for the soul, I always thought.’
‘Well I don’t know about that, I’m trying to find some actual solutions here. What if you’ve just eaten the spell I need?’
‘It was a diary entry about tatting lace,’ he says, smacking his lips. ‘Was that how you were planning to wage war against the forest?’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know what lace . . . tatting is, and now I never will.’
He belches and doesn’t look sorry at all. ‘Lace tatting is the construction of particularly durable lace. It’s useful for making doilies.’
‘Doilies –’ I spread my hands – ‘are what, exactly?’
‘Those little frilly mat things that go under sugar bowls.’