Felicity and Ann are waiting for me in my room. Felicity has taken over my bed and helped herself to Pride and Prejudice. Seeing me, she tosses the book aside like one of her suitors.
“Have a care with that, if you please.” I rescue the poor book, soothing its ruffled pages, and put it back to bed on the shelf.
“What the devil happened?” Felicity asks.
“I had a very strong vision,” I say. I tell them what Wilhelmina Wyatt showed me, the scene in the schoolroom. “I believe she’s trying to tell me that the Tree of All Souls does exist. I think she needs us to find it. The time has come for us to go into the Winterlands.”
Felicity sits forward. Some fire has been lit within her. “When?”
“As soon as possible,” I answer. “Tonight.”
The woods are patrolled by one of Mr. Miller’s men. We see him with his pistol, walking back and forth. He’s as jumpy as a cat.
“How will we get to the door without being seen?” Ann asks.
I concentrate, and suddenly, there’s a haunt of a woman in the woods. The man quakes at the ghostly sight of her. “Wh-who’s there?” Shaking, he directs the pistol at her. She ducks behind a tree and comes out farther on.
“Y-you’ll answer to m-my foreman,” the man says. He follows at a careful distance as she leads him toward the graveyard, where she will disappear, leaving him scratching his head at the mystery of it all. But we’ll be inside the realms by then.
“Come on,” I say, dashing for the secret door.
Felicity lifts her skirts, grinning. “Oh, I do like this.”
The tall stone slabs with their watchful women greet us on the other side. But they can’t give me the answer I seek. Only one person can, much as I’m loath to admit it.
“You go on to the castle. I’ll join you shortly,” I say.
“What do you mean? Where are you going?” Ann asks.
“I shall ask Asha if she has protections to offer us,” I explain, feeling awful for the lie.
“We’ll accompany you,” Felicity says.
“No! That is, you should prepare Pippa and the other girls. Gather everyone.”
Felicity nods. “Right. Hurry back.”
“I shall,” I say, and that, at least, is true.
I run through the dusty corridors of the Temple and head straight for the well of eternity. Circe is waiting, floating below the surface, a pale thing raised from the deep and forced into the light.
“Has the time of my demise come so soon?” she asks in a voice stronger than before.
I can barely control my anger. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Wilhelmina Wyatt?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You could have told me!”
“As I said, everything has its price.” She lets her breath out in a sigh.
“For all I know, you were the one who killed her,” I say, inching closer to the well.
“Is that why you’ve come back? To question me about an old school chum?”
“No,” I say. I hate myself for coming, but she’s been to the Winterlands before. My mother’s diary chronicles it. She’s the only one I can ask. “I need for you to tell me about the Winterlands.”
A note of wariness creeps into her voice. “Why?”
“We’re going in,” I say. “I want to see it for myself.”
She’s quiet for a long time. “You’re not ready for the Winterlands.”
“I am,” I declare.
“Have you searched your dark corners yet?”
I run my fingers along the polished stones of the well. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That is how you can be snared.”
“I’m tired of your riddles,” I snap. “Either you will tell me about the Winterlands or you won’t.”
“Very well,” she says after a moment. “Approach.”
Once again, I put my hand to the well, where I can feel the power still lingering in the stones, and then I place it on her heart. Somehow it’s easier to do this time; my need to know about the Winterlands and my desire to find out about the Tree of All Souls are stronger than my apprehension. For a few seconds, she glows with the power. A hint of a smile touches her pinkening lips. With this second gift, she’s become even lovelier and more vibrant—more like the teacher I loved, Miss Moore. Seeing that face startles me. I wipe my wet hand on my nightgown as if I could rid it of all traces of her.
“Now, I’ve given you the magic you asked for. The Winterlands, please.”
Circe’s voice whispers in the cave. “At the gate, you will be asked questions. You must answer them truthfully, or you’ll not enter.”
“What sort of questions? Are they difficult?”
“For some,” she answers. “Once inside, follow the river. Make no bargains, no promises. You cannot always trust what you see and hear, for it is a land of both enchantment and deceit, and you will need to discern which is which.”
“Is there anything else?” I ask, for it’s not much to go on.
“Yes,” she says. “Don’t go. You’re not prepared for it.”
“I’ll not make the same mistakes you did; that’s for certain,” I snap. “Tell me one thing more: Does the Tree of All Souls exist?”
“I hope you will return and tell me,” she says at last.
A rippling sound comes from the well, like the smallest of movements. But that’s impossible—she’s trapped. I look back, and Circe is as still as death.
“Gemma?” Circe calls.
“Yes?”
“Why does Wilhelmina want you to go into the Winterlands?”
“Because,” I say, and stop, for I’ve not asked myself that question until now, and it fills me with doubt.
There it is again—a slight rustling in the water. The walls of the cave trickle with moisture and I think that must be the sound I hear.
“Do be careful, Gemma.”
Pippa and the others wait for me in the blue forest. The berries have ripened on the trees. Half-filled baskets of them are everywhere. The front of Pip’s dress, stained with juice, looks like a butcher’s apron.
“Did she offer us any protection?” Ann asks when I catch up to them.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Asha,” she explains.
I see Circe’s pale face in my mind. “No. No protection. We’ll do our best.”
Pippa claps in delight. “Splendid! A true adventure at last. The Borderlands have grown dull. I should call them the Boredomlands!”
I look toward the Winterlands’ churning sky and the gate that separates us from it.
“What about those terrible creatures, miss?” It’s Wendy. She holds tight to Mercy’s skirts.
Pippa loops her arm through Felicity’s. “We shall band together. We’re clever girls, after all.”
“It is the only way to be certain,” Ann says.
“I’m not leaving until I know whether the Tree of All Souls exists,” I say.
A small light blinks in the trees, growing as it descends. It’s the fairylike creature with the golden wings.
“You wish to see the Winterlands?” she whispers huskily.
“What business is it of yours?” Felicity demands.
“I would light the way,” she purrs.
Mae Sutter shoos the creature away. “Go on! Leave us be.”
Undaunted, the creature flits from branch to branch and lands on my shoulder. “The Winterlands are not easily traveled. One who knows the way could prove helpful.”
Circe’s words come back to me: Make no bargains.
“I’ll give you nothing for it,” I say.
The creature’s lip curls into a sneer. “Not even a drop of magic when you’ve got so much?”
“Not even a drop,” I answer.
The fairy gnashes her teeth. “I shall take you anyway. Perhaps someday you’ll reward my service. Leave that one behind. She’ll prove a nuisance,” she says, flicking a wing at Wendy’s cheek. Wendy gasps and puts a hand t
here. The fairy cackles.
“Stop it!” I snap, and she falls back.
“I don’t want to be no trouble,” Wendy mumbles, hanging her head.
I take Wendy’s hand. “She does what we do.”
The fairy scowls. “Too dangerous.”
“Wendy, you stay ’ere,” Bessie commands.
“I want to go,” she says. “I want to know where that screamin’ comes from.”
“She’ll only slow us down,” Pippa argues, as if the girl isn’t standing right there.
“We go all of us together or not at all,” I say firmly. “Now, I must confer with my companions. Shoo! Away with you.”
The creature beats her shiny wings, hovering. There’s hatred in her eyes as she zips a few feet away, keeping watch.
I take in the sight of us. We’re a motley band—factory girls in their new finery, Bessie holding fast to a long stick, Pippa in her queenly cape, Ann and I in our nightgowns, and Fee with a layer of chain mail over hers, sword at the ready.
“We don’t know if that overgrown firefly out there can be trusted, so let’s be on our guard,” I say. “Memorize the way, for we may have to get out again on our own. Are we ready?”
Felicity pats her sword. “Quite.”
“I grow weary, mortal girl,” Golden Wings complains. “This way!”
We leave the safety of the blue forest and cross the vine-covered plain of the Borderlands. In the distance, the high, jagged gate into the Winterlands rises like a warning through the fog. We cannot see what lies beyond it save for the twisting, steel gray ropes of clouds. I carry a torch I’ve fashioned from sticks and magic. It casts a deep pool of light. The fairy sits on my shoulder. The tiny claws of her feet and hands dig into my nightgown, and I hope the thin fabric will keep them from scratching my flesh to ribbons.
The wall that separates the Borderlands from the Winterlands is a fearsome construction. It stretches as tall as the dome on Saint Paul’s Cathedral and runs in either direction as far as the eye can see. In the gloom, it appears to glow.
I put my hand to the tall pilings. They are smooth.
“Bones,” the fairy whispers.
I lift the torch. The light catches the outline of a large bone, a leg perhaps. I recoil from it. The bones have been fastened with ropes of hair. Red flowering vines have threaded their way between the bones to look like startling wounds. It is a macabre sight. The fairy snickers at my distress.
“For one so powerful, you are easily frightened.”
“How do we get in?” Mercy asks. Her face is cradled in deep blue shadow.
The winged creature darts in front of me. “The gate is near. You must feel for it.”
We place our hands against the bones and matted hair, feeling for a way in. It makes my stomach churn, and I’ve a mind to turn back at once.
“I’ve found it!” Pippa calls.
We crowd around her. The gate has a latch fashioned from a rib cage. The sharp points of the ribs are joined so that it is impossible to tell where one side ends and the other begins. Most disturbing of all, there is a heart that beats behind it. The faint thump-thump of it reverberates in my stomach.
“What is that?” Ann gasps.
“The way in,” the creature replies. She flutters near the beating heart and back again. “Answer it true,” she warns. “Else it will not allow you to pass.”
“Do you wish to enter the Winterlands?”
The voice is silk-soft, and I cannot be certain I’ve heard it at all.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
The girls nod. The heart shines a deep purplish red, like a wound festering. The voice comes again.
“Do you wish to enter the Winterlands?”
The heart is speaking to us.
“Yes,” Pippa answers. “How may we enter?”
“Tell us your secrets,” it whispers. “Tell us your heart’s greatest desire—and its greatest fear.”
“That’s all?” Bessie Timmons scoffs.
“That is everything,” the fairy creature says.
Bessie steps up. “My greatest desire is to be a lady. And I’m afraid of fire.”
A huge gust of cold wind blows out from the Winterlands. The bones clatter in the wind. The heart’s pace quickens and it burns brightly in the gloom. The rib cage splits apart. A giant door swings open.
“You may pass,” the heart says to Bessie. Bessie steps through, and the gate slams behind her.
“That wasn’t so difficult,” Felicity says. She takes her turn at the gate. “My desire is to be powerful and free.”
“And your fear?” the heart prompts.
Felicity pauses. “Being trapped.”
“Not entirely true,” the heart answers. “You have another fear, greater than the rest. A fear wrapped in desire; a desire wrapped in fear. Will you say it?”
Felicity pales noticeably. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she answers.
“You must answer truthfully!” the fairy hisses.
The heart speaks again. “Shall I name your fear?”
Felicity falters a little, and I do not know what could frighten her so.
“You fear the truth of who you are. You fear that they will find out.”
“Very well. You’ve said it; now let me pass,” Felicity commands. The door swings open again.
The others take their turns. They confess their longings and fears one by one: to marry a prince, being alone, a loving home with flowers along the walk, the dark, a never-ending banquet, hunger. Pippa admits that she fears losing her beauty. When she states her desire, she looks straight at me. “I should like to go back.” And the door opens wide.
Ann is so ashamed she whispers till the gate asks her to speak more loudly.
“Everything. I fear everything,” she says, and the heart sighs.
“You may pass,” it says.
At last it is my turn. The heart thumps in anticipation. My own beats just as fiercely.
“And you? What is your greatest fear?”
Circe warned that I must answer honestly, but I don’t know what to say. I fear that my father will not heal. I fear that Kartik doesn’t care for me, and I fear equally that he does. That I am not beautiful, not wanted, not lovable. I fear that I will lose this magic I’ve come to cherish, that I will be only ordinary. I fear so much I cannot choose.
“Go on! Out with it!” The flittery creature places her hands on her waist in impatience and bares her teeth at me.
Felicity puts her pale face to the bones on the other side. “Gemma, come on. Just say something!”
“What is your fear?” the gate asks again. A cold wind blows from the other side, chilling me. The clouds churn and boil, gray and black.
“I fear the Winterlands,” I say carefully. “I fear what I will find there.”
The gate’s cold breath pushes out in a long, satisfied sigh, as if it smells my fear and loves it.
“And your wish?”
I do not answer straightaway. The bitter wind slaps my cheeks, makes my nose run. The heart of the Winterlands is impatient.
“Your wish,” it hisses on.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Gemma!” Felicity pleads from the other side.
The fairy zips around my head till I’m dizzy. She digs her claws into my shoulder. “Tell! Tell!”
I bat her away and she snarls at me.
“I don’t know! I don’t know what I want, but I wish I did. And that is the truest answer I can give.”
The heart beats more quickly. The gate rattles and moans. I am afraid I have angered it. I shrink back. But the gate creaks open, the bones banging in the harsh wind.
Felicity grins at me and reaches out her hand. “Let’s go before it changes its mind!”
My foot hovers near the entrance, then comes down on the rocky ground of the other side. I’m inside the Winterlands. There are no flowers here. No green trees. It is black sand and hard rock, much of it covered in snow and ice. The
wind shrieks and howls across the tops of the cliffs and nips at my cheeks. Great handprints of dark clouds move on the horizon. Small puffs of steam rise to meet them, creating a billowing mist that casts everything in a thin wash of gray. There is a feeling to this place, a deep loneliness that I recognize in myself.
“This way!” The fairy bids us follow her toward the craggy mountains, pockmarked with ice, that guard the horizon.
Our feet leave faint traces in the black sand as we walk.
“What a melancholy land,” Ann says.
It is barren and mournful, but it does have a strange, hypnotic beauty.
There isn’t another soul for miles that we can see. It’s eerie, like a town that has been emptied. For a moment, I think I see pale creatures watching us from a distance. But when I shine the torch, they are gone, a mirage of the mist and the cold.
I can hear the sounds of water. A narrow gorge cuts through the cliffs and a river runs straight through it. Keep to the river, Circe said, but this seems to be certain death. The current is fierce, and the pathway on either side of it looks no wider than our feet.
“Is there another way?” I ask the fairy.
“None that I know of,” she answers.
“I thought you said you were a guide,” Felicity mutters.
“I do not know all, mortal girl,” Golden Wings snaps.
We tread lightly on the rocks, careful not to slip on the patches of glassy ice that show our pale faces like ghost mirrors. I take Wendy’s hand and help her through.
“Look!” Ann shouts. “Over there.”
A magnificent vessel floats through the mist and drifts to the black sand of the shore. The boat is long and narrow with oars sticking out of holes in the sides. It reminds me of a Viking ship.
“We are saved!” Pippa shouts. She hikes up her skirts and rushes for the boat. The factory girls follow. I grab Felicity by the arm.
“Wait a moment. Where did that boat come from? Where does it go?” I ask the fairy.
“If you want to know, you will have to take the risk,” she answers, showing sharp teeth.
“Come on, Gemma,” Felicity pleads, watching Pippa and the others get ahead.