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world.
    And now who knew whether she would leave us alone, or whether she was planning some fresh attack? And what had happened to the remains of Mrs. Hartle’s coven of Dark Sisters? Had they abandoned their pursuit of elemental power, or were they waiting to group together again, even stronger and more dangerous than before? As I walked with Velvet in the bright spring gardens, my heart sounded in my chest like a war drum, and I sensed eyes hidden in the hil s, watching me like carrion crows.
    Drumming—there was drumming in my head and I felt afraid.
    My Wyldcliffe, my real Wyldcliffe, was not just about the day-to-day dramas of being at boarding school, so Velvet’s self-indulgent nonsense was not what I needed to hear right then. I needed to see Helen and Evie and plan our next move. I decided I would show Velvet the stables, take her to the dorm, and then leave her to unpack so that I would be ready as soon as my friends arrived. I didn’t think that Velvet Romaine real y needed me to babysit her.
    Arriving at the stables calmed me down. I have always loved horses; they are in my family’s blood. My father trains racehorses, sometimes for himself, sometimes for other wealthy owners. Now the earthy smel of the stables—a mix of straw and feed and the sharp, sweet tang of the horses’ coats—soothed me. It spoke to me of a time when the earth was greener and we lived in harmony with both horses and the land. I walked over to the loose box where my horse Starlight was waiting and kissed his soft muzzle.
    A groom from home had driven him up to Wyldcliffe in the trailer the day before, together with my other pony—funny, fat, cheerful little Bonny. I was getting a bit too tal for Bonny real y, but I had brought her for Evie, who had learned to ride on Bonny’s broad back and was not comfortable with any of the other horses.
    “Is he yours?” asked Velvet, patting Starlight’s arched neck. “Nice.”
    “Yes. Do you ride?”
    “You could say that. We lived in Argentina for a while and I hung out with the polo crowd. That was fun. Wow, who owns this beauty?” She walked over to the other side of the stable yard to admire a magnificent white mare that was tethered in a wide stal . Velvet whistled through her teeth and expertly made a fuss of the beautiful creature. I could see that she was used to being around horses. “Now you would be worth riding, sweetheart,” Velvet crooned.
    She turned to me inquiringly. “Who does she belong to?”
    “Seraph is Miss Scratton’s horse, and she doesn’t let anyone else ride her.”
    “So what? I can always find a way round that.”
    “Seriously, Velvet, you mustn’t do anything sil y.”
    “Why not?” she demanded. “What can they do to me?
    Expel me? That’s exactly what I want. Anyway, I’m a pretty good rider. I wouldn’t come to any harm.”
    “I was thinking of the horse,” I replied cool y.
    Velvet stared at me for a moment, then laughed. “I like you, Sarah. You’re different. You seem real y—I don’t know
    —real y good, but I’m not so sure that you’re as angelic as you make out.”
    I blushed. Evie had always cal ed me “good.” Sweet and good and wholesome, like the fruit of the harvest, she said.
    But sometimes, being good was an effort. Being good meant putting others first, standing aside. Letting go of things you wanted for yourself. I shook my head and moved away, not wanting Velvet to see that her words had had an effect on me. I pushed open the door of the little tack room in the corner of the yard, talking about the first thing that came into my head. “If you want to sign up for riding lessons with Mrs. Parker, you write your name in the book in here—oh—”
    My voice faltered. Two people in the shadows of the tack room broke away from each other with a guilty start.
    One of them was a tal boy with hair the color of ripe corn—
    Josh Parker. And the other one was Evie.

Chapter Three
    Oh—Sarah! I was just going to look