I’ve got to hand it to Nuri—the coordinates she gave us for the Crone’s house are right on, even though we all doubted her when we looked them up because according to Google Maps, there’s nothing here. Still, we decided to take the risk anyway.

And yeah: Nuri 1, Google 0.

Since Macy had never visited this witch, and we didn’t want to risk asking Uncle Finn, we couldn’t build a portal and had to ride on the backs of Flint’s and Eden’s dragons. It was a cold and long flight, but at least it gave me a lot of time to think.

Hudson spent an hour trying to talk us out of going, insisting the Crone was going to ask for a price he would never let us pay to save him. But I couldn’t think of any other way. Cyrus was going to get him into that prison one way or another. My guess was that the real reason for the warrant was Hudson was too powerful to be left on the chessboard for what Cyrus had planned next. And even though we hated to admit it—Cyrus is planning something. We absolutely cannot afford for him to take Katmere.

So yeah, we need the Crone to save Hudson and me from a lifetime in a torture prison. That’s definitely a win in my book. But maybe getting lucky enough to free the blacksmith, then free the beast, and get the Crown to stop a war seems like a win-win-win-win. No matter the cost.

I shiver, and Hudson tightens his arms wrapped around my waist.

He leans forward and says in my ear, over the rushing wind, “It’ll be okay.”

I nod and briefly squeeze our mating bond.

This is a conversation I can’t have with him. For once, Hudson is refusing to face something—which should be my first clue as to how badly he thinks this trip is going to end. But we need to figure out what cost is worth a way to get out of prison. What would I be willing to sacrifice to save him?

Anything. The answer skates along my nerves—which should be my first clue as to how bad this is really going to get. I glance around at all my friends, though, and realize my answer would be the same for any of them. This is my family now, and I would protect them no matter the cost.

We circle the island once, just to get the lay of the land. Not that there’s a lot to observe, save the giant house smack-dab in the middle of the island. And, to be fair, calling the place a “house” is a little like calling a five-star hotel a Motel 6. It’s a full-on mansion out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I’d like to circle a few more times, try to figure out exactly how we want to approach the house—I’m a little gun-shy after that whole experience with the blacksmith’s wife. But we’ve been racing dawn across the horizon, which means Hudson and Luca are almost out of time. At least Macy can make a portal back to school when we’re done here.

Flint and Eden drop down first, while Jaxon pulls up the rear. It’s pretty obvious that it annoys Hudson that Jaxon can just “float,” while he has to ride on Flint’s back. Normally, he would fade, but even Hudson Vega hasn’t figured out how to run across the ocean quite yet. I’d offered to ride as well, and that seemed to make it better. Honestly, I just didn’t think my upper back muscles were strong enough for a transpacific flight just yet, and I worried I’d slow everyone down.

Hudson doesn’t say anything to Jaxon, though, as we stand looking up at the house. But I’m pretty sure that has more to do with the house than any actual restraint on Hudson’s part when it comes to his younger brother.

“It’s not just me, right?” Eden asks. “You all see it, too?”

“It’s hard to miss,” Mekhi agrees, and his eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them.

“What exactly do you call this kind of architecture?” Flint asks, looking at Macy as he does.

“Why are you asking me?” she says. “Do I look like someone who would live in a house like this?”

“So it’s not, like, a witch thing, then? You don’t all live in houses like this?” Luca lifts his brows.

“I live in a castle, thank you very much. The same castle that all of you live in, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, but it’s a choice, right?” Flint continues, eyes cataloging every detail of the house’s exterior. “You don’t just accidentally build a house that looks like this.”

“Do you think she has an oven?” Mekhi asks. “Should we be worried if she has an oven?”

“I’m pretty sure she has an oven,” I tell him. “Most people do.”

“Maybe she prefers the grill,” Hudson suggests dryly.

“Is that a thing?” Flint queries, looking wildly among us. “Grilling?”

“You’re awfully squeamish for a dragon,” I tell him.

“What does that mean?” he demands, voice high with obvious insult. “It’s not like I fly around campus barbecuing local wildlife with my flames.”

“I’m thinking pizza oven myself.” Jaxon picks up the previous conversation thread without so much as batting an eye. “I think I saw a big one in the back when we were circling.”

“In that case, let’s go,” Eden says, starting toward the front door. “Those things get really hot, so at least we know it will be quick.”

“Like, how hot?” Mekhi asks as he follows her down the flower-lined walk.

“Did anyone ever decide what they call this kind of architecture?” Flint asks again as he gapes at the ribbon-bedecked light poles lining the edges of the lawn, each one with a different colored light bulb shining from the top.

“Gingerbread house?” Eden snarks.

“More like gingerbread mansion,” Hudson tells her as he takes the stairs up to the front door.

“Gingerbread villa?” I suggest as I climb up right behind him.

“Gingerbread ski lodge,” Luca says definitively. “On a tropical island.”

“Which makes her what?” Flint muses.

“Architecturally challenged,” I whisper as we finally make it to the front door.

“Is it too early to knock?” Macy asks. “I know we need to get Hudson and Luca out of the sun, but what if she’s asleep?”

“I’m not asleep,” says a light, melodious voice directly behind us.

We whirl around to find a tall, beautiful woman in a long floral dress watching us. She’s carrying a basket filled with flowers and herbs over her forearm.

“The hour before dawn is the best time to gather up ingredients for my potions,” she says as she dances up the stairs on her tiptoes even as she looks at each one of us in turn. “But I came back early when I saw you land.”

“We’re sorry to disturb you,” Macy says in her sweetest voice.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been wondering when you would come.” She waves one elegant, lavender-fingertipped hand, and the double doors that lead into the house swing open. “Come on in, and I’ll make you all a cup of tea.”

It’s the invitation we’ve been waiting for, but I can’t help wondering if this is actually the woman we came here to meet. This can’t be the Crone. I was picturing a stooped old woman and instead…she looks like a Greek goddess. Long, flowing hair, perfect porcelain skin, bright-blue eyes that seem to catalog everything about us.

But there’s no way to find out unless we follow her inside. And even then, I’m not sure. What are we supposed to say? Excuse me, but are you the Crone? It seems pretty freaking rude, really. Especially when we came to ask for her help.

She leads the way through the door, her long hair blowing behind her in the wind. Flint follows her in, then Eden, Hudson, and me. But when Jaxon starts to walk in, she whirls around and shouts, “No!”

He freezes, nearly bouncing off the invisible barrier her refusal slams down in front of him.

“Is something wrong?” I ask. “That’s Jaxon Vega. He’s—”

“I know exactly who he is,” she tells me. Her gaze slides to Hudson. “And who he’s related to here. But I do not allow soulless creatures to enter my abode.”

“Soulless?” I repeat, totally confused at this point. “He’s not soulless. He’s a vampire, just like Hudson—”

“I’m sorry, but those are my rules.” Her blue eyes are laser bright when she turns them to me. “You and whichever friends would like to join you may stay inside with me while he stays outside. Or you may all leave. But do hurry and decide. I have flowers to process.”

She walks through a living room fit for a European palace and places the flower basket on the coffee table before turning back to me. “What’s it going to be, Grace?”

“You know my name?” I ask.

She arches one perfect brow but doesn’t answer me.

The truth is there’s only one possible answer to her question—we have to accept her choice and leave Jaxon outside, no matter how bizarre and unfounded her accusation is.

“Of course we want to stay,” I tell her, even as I shoot Jaxon an I’m sorry look. The others still seem confused, but they don’t argue. They know just as well as I do how stuck we are.