Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,6

mother. ‘But, you see, it might have been the very excitement of meeting him and Moreg, mixed in with your grief, that caused things to get scrambled somehow … and made you think that you’d met before.’

Willow’s mouth closed over a wordless scream, hot tears leaking from her eyes unchecked.

They just wouldn’t believe her. Willow felt her hurt begin to grow as she considered the hard truth about her family. It wasn’t just that they didn’t believe her: they didn’t believe in her … and they never would. They couldn’t even imagine that it was possible for Willow to have done something even slightly remarkable, even with help. They would never see her as one of them.

She felt winded, as if something hard and jagged had hit her in the chest. The blood rushed to her ears, and there was a ringing sound – later she would wonder if it was the sound of her own heart breaking – and suddenly there was a loud pop.

She looked up to see that she had made everyone, except Oswin, vanish.

Meanwhile, somewhere far away, a throne glinted like opals and diamonds in the shadows. Though, if you were to look closer, it seemed to be made of feathers and roots and darkness.

The queen who sat upon it had shadowy eyes like a night devoid of stars. She steepled her fingers and asked her servant, ‘You know what you need to do?’

The servant nodded, once. His gaze flicked towards the white-haired man on the floor whose eyes were pale and unseeing, though from his mumbling lips came a low moan.

The queen shifted in her seat like moving ink, and her hair floated in the air above as if she were underwater. She made a motion with her fingers and a small, shadow-like bird flew towards the figure on the ground, and into his open mouth. No more sound escaped his lips.

The servant watched in silence, then turned to leave.

‘Be careful,’ the queen warned. ‘Remember who you are up against. The witch sees all – you must play your game well if you are to succeed.’

‘I know what is at stake,’ said the servant.

The queen said nothing. She simply lifted a finger. It was the colour of birch bark, silver and dry and stronger than steel. A mist appeared, and there was a flash of wings, and then nothing at all.

3

An Unlikely Accomplice

In the silence between the thunderclaps of Willow’s own heartbeats, Oswin stared up at her in horror. ‘Oh NOOOOO! Oh, me ’orrid aunt! They’ll never believes yew now that yer magic has gon’ proper squifflesticks,’ he groaned, covering his large, lamp-like eyes with his paws as if he really didn’t want to watch what happened next.

‘You’re right,’ said Willow in a small, scared voice. She swallowed, and took a wary step back from where the table had been, knocking a chair over in her fright. ‘Oswin, I’m going to have to find Moreg myself. I think I should go now, quickly, before my father gets here or they come back. I just don’t think they’ll believe me … and, to be honest, right now they’re right about one thing. I-I’m a danger to be around. Y-you can stay if you want.’

The kobold went from green to orange in a flash, his eyes shooting daggers at her. ‘WOT? Yew wants to leave me behind?’

‘No – but you might be safer here.’

Oswin shot her a dark look and harrumphed. ‘Wiffout yew ’ere, that harpy-hag will gets rid of me faster than I could blink. I’ll take me chances wiff yew any day – ’sides,’ he said in a small voice, ‘yew mights needs me.’

Willow gave him a small, grateful smile. It was true, Oswin could be useful … when he wanted to be. Mostly because he was often the one who remembered about food, but there was also the fact that his koboldish blood let him know whenever they were approaching dangerous magic. And yes, there was his rather useful ability to blow up when he was agitated enough – which had partly helped save the missing day. Not that he’d meant to do it. Still, it was handy.

Together they quickly packed the hairy carpetbag and left the cottage. Willow stopped only to get her broom, Whisper, from the shed.

At the garden gate, the oak tree harrumphed as she passed him. ‘Running away, are we?’

There was a faint ‘Oh noooo, I forgot about ’IM,’ from within the bag.

Willow turned to look at the tree in