She was looking at the place where Justice had died.
He was a better fighter than she would ever be, and he had not survived for long. The shadow had only been defeated by the great power of the Elder Steward, and the Elder Steward was gone.
She told herself that the Shadow King was looking for Will. Sarah, Grace and Elizabeth weren’t Lions or Stewards, and there was a chance that when the Shadow King realised that Will wasn’t in the Hall, it would leave without killing any of the girls.
She nodded at Cyprian, then looked at Sarah, Grace and Elizabeth.
‘All right. The three of you get in there, and we’ll close the doors.’
Elizabeth looked up at her. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘Cyprian and I will be right outside.’
‘But—’
‘Get in,’ said Violet, giving Elizabeth a push between the shoulder blades.
She didn’t push her hard, and she wasn’t expecting what happened, a sequence that seemed to play out in slow motion, Elizabeth stumbling forward, her small foot tripping.
Elizabeth cried out and flung out her hand to steady herself, grasping on to the trunk of the Tree Stone.
Violet felt it happening: the scent like blooms in an ancient garden; the shivering impression of bright tendrils running through the Tree like veins; of white flowers opening. Yet she wasn’t ready.
Light burst into the room; an explosion of light; a brilliant eruption as the Tree Stone lit up, brighter than a hundred stars. It was blinding; Violet cried out and lifted her arm and pressed her face into the crook of her elbow instinctively.
When she looked up a second later, her blinking eyes opened on a warm and beautiful glow, infusing the Tree’s trunk, its branches and leaves and its hundreds of new flowers, each one a new point of light. It lit the expressions of shock and wonder in the faces of the others, and the little girl standing under it.
Elizabeth’s hand was still on the Tree, and the light was surrounding her; it was part of her.
‘What is it?’ said Elizabeth. ‘What’s happening?’
Oh God, thought Violet. She was staring at Elizabeth, her washed-out face, the light in her long, dull hair.
She remembered Will trying to light the Tree Stone, the hours that he had spent gathering all his will trying to stir a single spark. In all that time, the Tree Stone had not given so much as a flicker.
Violet thought of all she knew about Elizabeth. At ten, she was still in short dresses and had the personality of a stump in the road, blocking your way. She lived with her parents – no, not with her parents, with her guardians, her aunt and uncle – who had taken her in after—
‘Who was your mother?’ Violet heard herself say.
‘What?’ said Elizabeth.
‘You live with your aunt and uncle. Who was your mother?’
‘No one you know.’ Elizabeth stuck her chin out. ‘What does it matter? She was a respectable gentlewoman.’
There was something defensive about the way she said it, as if she’d heard questions about her birth before. Or as though she’d been the one asking them, thought Violet, smart enough even at ten years old to sense that the things her aunt and uncle were telling her weren’t true.
Simon had been hunting children. And if someone was hunting your children, what did you do? Did you keep them with you, in danger? Or did you give them away to kind strangers who would pretend to be their aunt and uncle? Wasn’t the best way to hide a child to disguise them as one of the thousands of ordinary children growing up in London?
Protect the sisters, Will had said.
Violet felt all the hair on her body stand up as she stared at Elizabeth’s plain child’s face, and her torn, muddy clothes, streaming with light.
She turned to Cyprian. ‘She’s Blood of the Lady.’ Violet could see the mix of shock and confusion in Cyprian’s eyes. ‘I don’t know how, but she’s Blood of the Lady. It’s not Will the Shadow King is after,’ Violet said. ‘It’s her.’
The inhuman screams were louder, the last of the wards shredding.
Violet looked around at the ancient doors that would be no kind of protection once the wards were down. Violet had thought they could hide here and hope for the Shadow King to pass them by, but no one could hide this cascade of light.
And if the Shadow King was after Elizabeth, it would not pass her over; it would do everything in its power to find and kill her.
She couldn’t let that happen. Justice had trained her to fight for the Lady. And the Lady had come to her, even if she didn’t understand how or why. Wasn’t a Lion supposed to be a protector? Her strength and Steward training together: she understood what it was for now. What she had to do.