Careful not to step too close to me or the flowers outside the door, the girl without the mace reached for a pair of binoculars hanging around her neck. She flipped a switch, which caused the rims of the lenses to glow green, then peered through.
“Yup, it’s Ormé,” she said.
“Right,” I said, turning back to the girls. “Now can I come in? These Poppies are making me purple.” I gestured to the pulsing veins in my arms.
The girls seemed more confused than reluctant. They stepped aside so I could enter. The moment I moved out of the flowers’ touch, my veins returned to normal and my golden glow faded.
However, when the colors in my veins disappeared, I realized I had faint burn marks on my arms. The marks were dark gold and they throbbed with light pain.
Hm. That’s new.
I didn’t know what
