Pavonine frowned, scooping Peffiandra into her arms. “Next time you want to talk to Winnow alone,” she said bitterly, “just say so.” She marched out of the room.
When Pavonine closed the door behind her, Mayhap looked at Winnow, who was focusing intently on brushing Evenflee’s curly tail. “Winnow,” Mayhap said, “why did you go walking in the grass?”
Winnow’s brushing hand stopped moving. For a moment, Mayhap thought her sister was going to tell her the truth. But instead she said, “I’m tired, Mayhap.”
Mayhap found a tangle in one of Seekatrix’s ears and began to go over it gently with her brush, pulling it apart with her fingers. Seekatrix shook his head. “Why won’t you tell me?” she whispered urgently, keeping her eyes on Seekatrix’s ear. “I saw you, Winnow.”
Winnow threw down her brush and it hit the carpet with a dull thud. Evenflee looked up, curious. “I can’t sit in this house all day,” she snapped. “Waiting for them. It’s agonizing, not knowing anything.”
Mayhap picked up the brush, which had rolled toward her. She stood, her droomhund tucked under one arm. “I can’t believe you left the house, Winn. You know how dangerous it is. Mamma and Pappa —”
“Don’t talk about Mamma and Pappa!” said Winnow, snatching the brush out of Mayhap’s hand. Then she added, whispering, “Mamma and Pappa aren’t here.” She began to brush Evenflee again, this time more forcefully. He cringed, flinching when the bristles met his fur.
Mayhap kneeled beside Winnow’s chaise, cradling Seekatrix. “Winnow, I had to lie to Pavonine. She would’ve been terrified if she’d known.”
Winnow only scowled.
“It’s a miracle you came back alive,” said Mayhap, her voice louder now. She glanced at the windows, shuttered with silver grass.
“But I did come back,” said Winnow. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Mayhap looked at the carpet. She looked at Seekatrix in her arms. She looked at the door. She looked at Winnow’s flushed face. “Fine,” she said. It was all she could think to say.
“I just —” Winnow said. “I can’t —”
Evenflee struggled, wanting to get away from her harsh brushing.
Around them, the house was quietly tidying little objects away: perfume bottles, books and pencils, stray gloves and wilted flowers. It was folding down the quilts on their bed and drawing the thick curtains so the grass couldn’t watch them sleeping. The room darkened, but a fire lit itself in the grate and began to crackle, emitting a warm glow.
“You can’t what?” said Mayhap.
Evenflee finally wriggled out of Winnow’s arms and jumped to the floor, giving himself a good shake.
“Nothing,” said Winnow. “I told you, Mayhap — I’m tired. We can talk about this in the morning.” Without another word, she got into bed and climbed under the covers.
Mayhap watched, her mouth open in disbelief. The walls seemed to press nearer to her, as though they were trying to hear her breathing.
“That’s enough brushing for tonight, Seeka,” she said, burying her face in his sweet-smelling fur.
“Sounds about right,” said Pavonine, arriving through the door with a drowsy Peffiandra in her arms.
“All right, you two,” said Mayhap.
Her words echoed as though she had two mouths instead of one, and she tried not to think about the grass and the way it spoke with a hundred separate voices.
Mayhap, Winnow, and Pavonine lay in their crescent-shaped bed of creamy onyx, their hair spread out on embroidered pillows.
The letter their parents had left hung on the wall above their heads, framed in curlicued silver. In the black-and-white photograph that hung beside the letter, Cygnet and Bellwether Ballastian were sitting on a sofa, staring ahead seriously, their droomhunds perched on their laps.
All three girls blew a kiss to their lost parents. “Sleep darkly, Mamma and Pappa,” they said in unison.
“Sleep darkly, Winnow,” said Mayhap, determined not to meet her older sister’s eyes. “Sleep darkly, Pavonine.”
The grass made a keening sound against the windows.
The coverlet tucked itself around the girls.
“Sleep darkly, Mayhap,” said Winnow, lying back and letting out a long breath. “Sleep darkly, Pavonina Carina.”
“Sleep darkly, sisters,” whispered Pavonine.
And then Winnow whistled for the dogs.
The three droomhunds leaped at once onto the enormous bed.
Peffiandra trotted toward Pavonine’s cheek. Evenflee pawed at Winnow’s collarbone. And Seekatrix bounded onto Mayhap’s stomach. Mayhap rubbed his ears. He smelled of brown sugar and orange zest. He yawned, showing his black tongue and gums, the inky cave of his mouth.
Peffiandra nuzzled Pavonine’s ear, then burrowed inside it like a rabbit slipping into its warren. Pavonine’s breathing slowed and steadied. Her eyes fluttered closed, her eyelids like two pink petals.
Then Winnow said, “You next, Mayhap.”
Seekatrix was on his back now, gnawing at Mayhap’s fingers. She wished she could fall asleep with him beside her — tucked against her body or held in her arms. But that was impossible. She was a Ballastian. If she closed her eyes for too long without a droomhund inside her mind, her head would fill with a buzzing whiteness, a searing heat, like lightning burning inside her. Those were the words Winnow had used after her experiment. It made Mayhap nauseous to think of it. She rubbed Seekatrix’s belly and whispered, “Come on, Seeka. Time to sleep darkly.”
He sat up, tilting his head, then squeezed his way into Mayhap’s mind.
The room went ashy at the edges, as though it were a singed letter, and Mayhap’s thoughts turned to gauze and gossamer. Pressure sat behind her watering eyes and pinched the top of her nose as Seekatrix fussed, trying to get comfortable.
Winnow’s face hovered over her, a fuzzy oval, and then Seekatrix curled up tightly and went to sleep, and everything went dark. Mayhap shut her eyes.
It was time to rest.
Seekatrix scrambled painfully out of Mayhap’s mind, and she knew he was petrified.
Sometimes a noise would wake him, and he would flee from her head, leaving her ears ringing. But this was different. Her whole head ached and the bridge of her nose burned. Waking up had never hurt this much.
When she opened her eyes, rubbing her temples to stop the clangor in her brain, the silver ceiling came into focus above her, its ridges as defined as scars in the light of the fire.
Pavonine was still asleep. Seekatrix was sitting beside Mayhap on the bed, facing her. His growl was high-pitched, like a hummed question.
And Winnow was gone.
Mayhap clambered out of bed, and Seekatrix followed her. She asked the house for a dressing gown, and a garment as fragile as moths’ wings was draped over her shoulders, pink ribbons tightening the organza around her wrists. Velvet slippers covered her feet.
When she opened the heavy damask drapes and peered through one of the thousand bedroom windows — each the size of a teacup and shaped like a nine-pointed star — she found that it was the middle of the night.
The silver grass parted its strands and swayed, revealing a navy sky dabbed with white stars. The wander-root trees hung in the air like ornate chandeliers.