Next time it will not be a bunny.
“Will you tell me she bit through her cage, too?”
Gry shrugs. “If it will amuse you.”
“Tell me where she is!” I bang my hand on the altar.
Gry puts her hands to her hips, a taunting pose. “Or what?”
Fetry steps in. “Gry, stop.”
“Are you on her side now?” Gry demands.
“There are no sides,” Kin says. “Are there?”
“There are now,” Gry answers, and my blood pumps a little faster.
“She took Wendy to the Win’erlands,” Mercy says quickly.
Bessie hits her hard across the mouth, knocking her to the floor. “’At’s a b****y lie, Mercy Paxton. Take it back!”
“No one likes a traitor, Mercy,” Gry scolds.
The girl cowers on the floor. The castle groans. The vines are blighted, diseased. When they move, they seem to calcify. One, heavy as stone, creeps over my
