The main problem with finding the treasure Ivy’s father had stolen from the dragons was that apparently nobody had seen even a fraction of it in Ivy’s lifetime.

They figured this out slowly. Violet approached each of the merchants in Valor and asked, as casually as Violet could (not very), whether the Dragonslayer usually paid in gold, or precious jewels, or what.

Each of them chuckled, or looked nervous, or waved her away, but the general gist of their answers seemed to be: “The Dragonslayer doesn’t have to pay for every item like a lowly villager! He’s the lord of Valor! He has as much money as a dragon queen! We know his credit is good, ha ha!”

“So, wait,” Violet would say, “when did he last pay you?”

And then there would be mumbling, and more nervous looks, and soon she’d be shooed out of the shop without much more information.

There did seem to be an informal system of favors in place, Violet pointed out. If, for instance, the Dragonslayer decided on a tailor whose clothes he liked, he’d spread the word, and soon that would be the most popular tailor in Valor. Or if one candlemaker made a special Dragonslayer scent, she was likely to find herself upgraded to one of the biggest caves in the marketplace.

“As far as I can tell, he pays with power and influence instead of with money,” Violet explained.

“Huh,” Ivy said. “So … where is his money? What does he do with it, if he’s not using it to buy things?”

“Maybe he piles it up in a cave and rolls in it,” Daffodil suggested. “Not that that’s what I would do with a giant mountain of gold coins or anything.”

Ivy had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the gold the next time her father had to buy something big, but apparently nothing was too big for the Dragonslayer to buy on credit from one of his worshippers.

While Violet interrogated merchants, Daffodil was sent to talk to her grandmother, the oldest inhabitant of Valor.

That did not go well.

“She wanted to know where my yellow ribbons were,” Daffodil reported with indignation. “She said my uniform is boring and does nothing for my complexion and she told me to sit still, like, eight hundred thousand times and why was I even interested in the dragon attacks and of course she hasn’t seen the Dragonslayer’s treasure, how rude do I think she is, except of course when he first rode back from the desert and announced his heroic deeds in the town square.”

“That!” Violet asked. “Did you ask more about that?”

“I TRIED,” Daffodil said. “She said it was very exciting, bells ringing and everyone admiring the tail barb and cheering. And then WHOOSH and BOOM and ROAR and CRASH and everything was on fire, and Aunt Petal managed to get Grandma into the escape tunnels, and by the way have I heard about how Aunt Petal was the very best of Grandma’s children and no one else will ever measure up?”

“She did not say that,” Ivy objected.

“She absolutely did,” Daffodil said. “With Mother sitting right there! I swear, Aunt Petal sounds as dreadful as Daisy sometimes. Anyway, then I couldn’t get Grandma back to the treasure no matter what I tried, plus it was getting very boring, so I left.”

“Well,” Violet said sarcastically. “Good effort.”

“Thank you,” Daffodil said, ignoring her.

Ivy’s mission, of course, was to search the Dragonslayer’s home. She was often left alone, so finding a time to do it wasn’t difficult. She started with her parents’ room, then her dad’s office, then the dining cave where he hosted council meetings and parties. She reached into every nook and cranny and ledge and crack in every wall of the caves. She ran her hands along every fiber of their hammocks, looking for hidden lumps; she riffled through each book on the shelves. She took everything out of the cabinets and looked for secret compartments.

It was really odd and uncomfortable, trying to find her dad’s secrets this way. It felt like she’d been colored over with a drawing of a different Ivy — a braver but sneakier Ivy, with a different father, who couldn’t be trusted in any way. She could remember the harmless, charming dad she used to think she had, but now she could only see the shadows around him, the ghosts he ignored, the smile that said he didn’t care or think he’d done anything wrong.

Her heart pounded as she searched. If he caught her, what would she say? How would she calm him down? Would she be able to lie, or was he such a master liar that he’d see right through her?

She waited for the times when she knew they’d be gone for a while, and then she looked everywhere. They owned a lot of elegant carvings and small jewelry and gold leaf–painted vases, but those had all been made by human hands. There wasn’t a speck of dragon treasure to be found.

“That is bonkers,” Daffodil said from her perch in Violet’s hammock. They were meeting in Violet’s cave again, because Daffodil had recently had a new nightmare about the dragon tail barb — possibly prompted by the story of the dragon attack on the old village — and didn’t want to go anywhere near it. Violet also didn’t trust Ivy’s mother, and at this point Ivy wasn’t sure she did either. Violet’s dads were always at meetings or trials or arbitrations, so this seemed like the safest place to talk without being overheard.

“Heath must be really good at hiding things if you really couldn’t find anything,” Violet agreed.

“Or it’s not in our cave at all,” Ivy said. “Maybe he was worried someone would try to steal it from him, so he keeps it somewhere else.”

“But where would it be more safe?” Daffodil asked. “Everywhere else in Valor is public space — I’d think it would be harder to protect anywhere outside his own cave.”

They were all quiet for a moment. Violet was lying flat on the floor in her thinking position. Ivy was at Violet’s desk, trying to draw the ice dragon they’d seen. All the spikes made it extra hard, but that helped her mind focus instead of rattling around in circles. Was there anywhere else her dad went and nobody else did?

“Oh!” she cried, dropping her quill. “Of course! Where is my brain? You guys! The old village!”

Violet sat up and Daffodil nearly fell out of the hammock.

“That’s probably why he made that law that no one else can go there!” Ivy rushed on. “Maybe Pine got too close to wherever he’s hidden it. Oh, oh, and that time I saw Dad leaving with a bag hidden under his shirt — maybe he was going to get some of the treasure. I bet that’s it! The treasure is hidden in the old village!”

“That’s brilliant,” Violet said, grinning. “You’re brilliant, Ivy.”

“I’m really not,” Ivy said. “I should have thought of that way sooner.”

“So let’s go get it!” Daffodil said. “Let’s go right now!”

“We can’t.” Ivy buried her hands in her hair. “I mean — we can’t. First of all, we don’t know where the village is. Secondly, there’s no way we’ll be allowed to leave Valor on our own — even our Wingwatcher friends don’t think we’re ready for that. And most of all, it’s so forbidden. I don’t think Dad would banish me, but he might banish you two, and I — that would — it would be the worst thing to ever happen.”

She couldn’t imagine life without Violet and Daffodil. She couldn’t imagine watching them get banished, knowing it was her fault, and she couldn’t imagine ever forgiving her father if he did that.

“I can solve all those problems,” Violet said. “Foxglove will take us there, and Squirrel will make sure no one catches us.”

“Violet!” Ivy threw a ball of paper at her. “Then Foxglove and Squirrel could be banished, too!”

“Well, that’s my five favorite people,” Violet said, “so if we’re all banished together, that’s fine by me.”

“Ooh, let’s get Forest banished, too, then,” Daffodil said.

“Daffodil, GROSS,” Violet said. “No. I forbid you to have a crush on FOREST of ALL PEOPLE.”

“I don’t!” Daffodil yelped. “I just think he’s funny!”

“You are wrong,” Violet said. “He is horrifying.”

“He’s not horrifying,” Ivy said, passing Daffodil a bowl of pumpkin seeds to stop her from leaping out of the hammock and strangling Violet. “His humor is a little juvenile, sure, but it’s OK for Daffodil to think it’s funny. Most importantly, no one is getting banished, because no one else is going to the old village. I’ll go by myself.”

“Terrible plan,” Daffodil said.

“Absolutely not,” Violet said at the same time.

Ivy tried to convince them, but she didn’t stand much of a chance when the two of them joined forces. Still, she thought the argument was ongoing until three days later, when Foxglove summoned them for another skygazing mission, and then they got outside and found Squirrel waiting with a knapsack and a grin.

“Uh-oh.” Ivy shot a look at her friends. “You didn’t —”

“Of course we did,” Daffodil said cheerfully. “They would LOVE to help.”

“That’s a slight exaggeration,” said Foxglove. “There was a tiny amount of blackmail involved.” She arched one eyebrow at Violet, who did not look even the slightest bit guilty.

The sky was overcast, full of billowing gray clouds, and the wind whipped through the trees with more strength than Ivy was used to. Far off to the north, a misty skein of rainfall connected the sky and mountain peaks.

If there were dragons in those clouds, would we see them? Ivy wondered. Would we hear their wingbeats over this wind?

“What did you do?” Ivy asked Violet.

“I told them we needed a guide to the old village,” Violet said serenely, “and if they helped us, I would stop trying to decipher the secret Wingwatcher code I know they’ve been using.”

“This does not mean there is a secret Wingwatcher code,” Foxglove said sternly. “But less of Violet poking around in other people’s business would be great.” She strode off down the hill, and Ivy had no choice but to chase after her. The wind tossed her hair in her face and all around, and she thought how hard it would be to fly in weather like this.

“This is too dangerous,” she said breathlessly to Foxglove. “I don’t want anyone to get banished.”

“Neither do I,” said Foxglove. “But I think Violet is right that your father is hiding something in the old village, and with you along, we might finally be able to find it.”

“With me — finally?” Ivy said. “Wait, you mean you’ve looked before?”

Foxglove smiled. “Trust me. This is not the first time I’ve been to the old village. And this won’t be the time I get caught.”

Daffodil bounded down the slope past them, leaping from rock to rock like a mountain goat who’d just escaped from trolls. Violet was following them, more slowly, talking to Squirrel as they walked. Ivy glanced back and saw three more Wingwatchers climbing out of the underground city. She thought she recognized them — all from Foxglove’s year.

“We have a system,” Foxglove said, noticing Ivy’s puzzled expression. “If anyone else comes out, there will be a signal passed along in time for us to hide. You don’t have to worry.”

A whole system, Ivy thought as they trekked through the woods. Sparrows flitted through the trees overhead, clinging to the branches when they thrashed in the wind. With many Wingwatchers in on it. Violet was right about one thing — they have secrets. Foxglove has been sneaking off to the old village, and she never told me.

Because she couldn’t really trust me, after all? Was she afraid I’d tell my father?

Would I have, before I knew about Rose and everything Stone told us?

She doesn’t seem worried about it now. Ivy glanced at Foxglove’s face, but it was her unreadable expression, the one Ivy still couldn’t imitate even after all these years as her friend. She didn’t see any signs that Foxglove was angry, though. Ivy hoped Violet hadn’t really blackmailed her … she didn’t think she could handle it if Foxglove was mad at them.

Behind them, she noticed two of the Wingwatchers following at a distance, and then after a while, just one. She guessed they were spread out along the route so they could pass their signals quickly. She hoped they’d be safe — from dragons, from her dad, from everything.

“West,” Violet noted, assessing the sky. “We’re heading toward the desert.”

“The village isn’t far from the edge of the forest,” Foxglove said. “I see you taking notes in your head, Violet. Remember you promised you would never go to the village by yourself.”

“I did promise that,” Violet said. “Yes. That I did.”

Foxglove narrowed her eyes at her. “Going with Ivy and Daffodil still counts as going by yourself. Stop trying to find a loophole.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Violet objected. “I wasn’t even planning anything! I’m absorbing knowledge, that’s all. Like a diligent Wingwatcher apprentice. That’s me. Well-behaved and learning things.”

“Ha,” Foxglove snorted. “Daffodil!” she called. “Get back here!”

Daffodil obediently wheeled around and charged back toward them. Foxglove signaled for silence and they all crouched in a huddle.

“This might be a little upsetting,” Foxglove said softly. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Very ready,” Daffodil said.

“Of course,” said Violet.

Ivy nodded. She wasn’t sure … she didn’t know what to expect. But she couldn’t say no now.

Foxglove gave a low whistle, listened for another moment, and then beckoned them forward. Squirrel stayed behind, climbing a tree.

Up ahead, Ivy could see a break in the trees — a spot where there seemed to be more light, even on such a gray day. As they approached, she began to notice a smell, too, like charred wood.

They stepped out of the forest into a charcoal painting of devastation.

The black, twisted shapes slowly resolved into tree stumps, crooked walls, fallen towers. Ivy could see where paths used to run between houses; she could imagine the gardens that once grew here, before the dragon fire consumed it all.

Foxglove led the way between stone foundations to something that seemed to be an open plaza where all the roads met — like the central cave in Valor. A toppled bell tower marked the center of the square. An old iron bell, large, rusted, and cracked, poked out of the rubble. Ivy couldn’t pull her eyes away from it. Was her father the last person to ring it? Had he been so proud of himself? And then what had he felt when the dragons descended?

“Right,” Foxglove said, standing next to the bell with her hands on her hips. “What next, clever boots?” She looked at Violet.

“We spread out and start searching?” Violet suggested.

“It’s a big town,” Foxglove pointed out. “And we can’t stay too long. Got any more specific plans?”

Violet pivoted slowly, studying the space. Ivy had to admit it didn’t look promising. Where would she hide treasure in a ruin like this?

And didn’t it make her father sad? Every time he came back here, wasn’t he reminded of everything the town had lost — everything that was destroyed, because of him? Didn’t he look around and feel crushed by guilt?

She did, and she hadn’t even been alive when it happened. She’d never seen it bustling with people and full of life. If something like this had been her fault, she would never have been able to look at it again.

But she couldn’t think like herself. She had to think like the Dragonslayer. He didn’t see a ruin — he saw a clever hiding spot. A safe hiding spot, one that he trusted, apparently. Where would he feel like his treasure was safe?

“Dad’s old house,” she said. “Wherever he used to live. We should start there.”

“Sounds great,” Foxglove said. “Which one is that?”

Ivy had no idea. She frowned at the ruins, trying to think of anything that might give her a clue. Her father liked big houses, lots of space, fancy things … but his family wouldn’t have been able to afford any of that when he was a kid. That was the whole reason he’d gone to steal the dragon treasure, wasn’t it? Because he wanted to be rich, and he wasn’t.

So, probably not one of these bigger houses around the square, then.

“Guess what?” Daffodil announced suddenly. “Guess WHAT?!”

“What?” Violet asked in her most deliberately bored voice.

“There are FOOTPRINTS over here!” Daffodil cried. She pointed at a muddier area on the other side of the bell. “Leading into town that way! WHAT IF THEY’RE THE DRAGONSLAYER’S FOOTPRINTS? We could follow them straight to his hiding place!”

Violet crouched beside the footprints and studied them skeptically. “These are two different sets of footprints,” she said. “They can’t be the Dragonslayer’s. He only comes here alone.”

“Let’s follow them anyway!” Daffodil suggested. “I mean, what if someone is here! Maybe they already found the treasure and can save us oodles of time, did you think about that?”

“There is someone here,” Foxglove said slowly. “But they have not found the treasure. They have looked, with no success so far. Of course, they were supposed to do a better job of covering their tracks,” she said loudly. She fixed her gaze on the three girls. “Can you keep a secret? A real one? You can’t breathe a word of this to anybody.”

“Yes,” Daffodil breathed. “I promise!”

“So do I,” said Violet. “I would never betray your trust, Foxglove. I believe in keeping secrets as a matter of honor.”

“Ivy?” Foxglove asked before Ivy could chime in. “You’re the one whose promise I really need. This could be asking a lot of you.”

“I really, really promise,” Ivy said, a little hurt. “It’s not asking too much. You know I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“She is,” Daffodil agreed, taking Ivy’s hand and squeezing it.

Foxglove climbed onto the highest stone step still standing and waved both her arms. A shadow detached itself from a leaning stone doorway and came toward them. Another rose from behind a low wall and followed.

As they approached, Ivy was startled to see that they were both wearing Wingwatcher uniforms — torn and threadbare, but still recognizable. One had a scar along his neck and the other kept glancing at the sky nervously.

“Oh. WOW,” said Daffodil. She grabbed Ivy’s hand again and squeezed even harder. “IVY,” she said, in her famously loud “whisper” voice. “That’s PINE!”

“And Azalea,” said Violet. “They were both banished from Valor.”

Daffodil clasped her hands under her chin. “I can’t believe you’re still alive!” she said to Pine. “Do you remember me? Pigtails with yellow ribbons?”

He looked at her like he actually did remember. “At the school,” he said with a grin. “You were always so excited about the peaches.”

“Ye-es,” Daffodil said. “Peaches. It was definitely about the peaches. That’s what I was excited about. Definitely. I’m Daffodil, by the way.”

“Foxglove, what are you doing?” said the other banished Wingwatcher. Azalea’s hair was short and wild, as though it had been chopped with a knife and no mirror. Ivy vaguely remembered her kicking a bunch of guards at her banishment. “We’ve talked a hundred times about whether it would be safe to bring her here.” She nodded at Ivy. “We said no. A hundred times. Remember?”

“This was different,” Foxglove said. “She asked to come. She wants to help.”

Azalea’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at Ivy with disbelief.

“To find the treasure,” Foxglove added quickly. “As we’ve been trying to do for years. These three think it must be here, too.”

“And what do you need with treasure, princess?” Azalea demanded.

There was a pause, and Ivy realized she was waiting for Violet or Daffodil to answer for her. But Azalea was staring only at Ivy.

“We want to give it back to the dragons,” Ivy said. “To stop them from burning any more villages.”

Azalea tilted her head and took a step back. She looked at Pine, who had a small smile on his face. He shrugged at her. “Not the worst idea,” he said.

“Disagree, but never mind that,” said Violet. “Have you been living here this whole time? Since you were banished?”

“Our friends helped keep us alive,” Pine said, nodding at Foxglove. “Aster went to take her chances in the Indestructible City and hasn’t returned. The dragons got Root a couple of years ago.”

“What about the other people who were banished?” Ivy asked. “The ones who weren’t Wingwatchers?”

“We know where most of them are,” Pine said.

“But we’re not going to tell you,” Azalea cut in, looking at Ivy. “No offense. But just in case.”

“That’s fascinating,” Violet said, studying Pine. “You were banished because you came here, but then you ended up living here. And now you can search for the Dragonslayer’s treasure all day, which is probably why he banished you in the first place.”

“No one ever said the Dragonslayer was smart,” Azalea said with a shrug. “No offense,” she added to Ivy again.

Ivy was quite sure offense was intended; it was pretty clear that Azalea was angry at her and meant to stay that way no matter what Ivy said. But Ivy didn’t feel angry back. She felt worried for them, living out here in a burned-down village, with only a few Wingwatchers to help them.

“But you haven’t found anything?” Violet asked. “Have you figured out where the Dragonslayer used to live, at least?”

Pine spread his hands. “No luck. I don’t think the treasure is here after all.”

“But then why banish you, just for seeing this place?” Foxglove asked.

“Maybe I offended him some other way,” he said.

“Do you remember where you went when you came here the first time?” Violet asked. “Did he catch you here?”

“Yes,” he said. “We’ve searched all over that area, but I’ll show you where I was.”

The six of them made their way through the ruins, with Foxglove at the back scuffing up the prints they left behind. Pine stopped in a corner of the village that looked pretty much like everything they’d passed, but with smaller foundations, chimneys, and hearths than some of the big houses near the center.

“I was just poking around here, searching in the old fireplaces for iron. He came out of the woods and asked what I was doing, and I told him, and he looked very serious and said we’d better get back to Valor. I didn’t realize I was in trouble until we got there and he had two of his guards arrest me.”

Ivy walked along the path, studying each of the houses. There were five people in the family — the parents and three teenagers — so it couldn’t be either of these one-room houses, she thought. They’d have built on another room or more … like these did.

She stopped in front of a house near the end. The building next to it was almost entirely gone, but buried in the ash she could see the corner of a blacksmith’s anvil. And behind it, the outline of a building that might have been a stable.

“They had horses,” she said to Violet, who had followed her. “They rode horses to the desert palace, right? Could they really afford three horses? Or maybe their father was a blacksmith, and they took whatever horses were here for new shoes. Maybe?”

“It’s a good theory,” Violet said. She pointed at the house that adjoined the blacksmith’s shop. “Let’s start in there.”

Foxglove stayed outside to watch for warning signals while the rest of them searched. With five people it didn’t take very long to sweep from one end of the house to the other. There weren’t many places to look unless they started digging, but Ivy didn’t think her father would have buried the treasure. He didn’t like to get dirty, and he hadn’t been carrying a shovel when she saw him leave the underground city.

Ivy couldn’t imagine her father as a teenager, or Uncle Stone. But she could kind of picture Rose here, skipping in and out, bothering her father while he made horseshoes next door, avoiding her mother whenever chores needed doing.

“Hmmm,” said Daffodil, tapping her nose. “You said he caught you looking in fireplaces. Did anyone check this fireplace?”

“I reached up the chimney as high as I could and felt around,” Violet said. “It’s pretty unstable. I was afraid the whole thing would fall down on me.”

“Maybe this is the wrong house,” Ivy said.

“Think like Heath,” Violet suggested. “Why would he come back here?”

“Because … he already had a hiding place?” Ivy said. “Somewhere he hid things even when he was a kid. Like the crack in the wall behind Daffodil’s hammock where she puts her love po — not love poems!” she said quickly at the look on Daffodil’s face. “Anything but that! Other secrets!”

“Ivy, SERIOUSLY,” Daffodil said in outrage.

“Let’s see if there are any cracks in the wall in the side room,” Violet suggested. “Pine, you’re the tallest, you check the fireplace again.”

Ivy ran her hands along what was left of the stone walls. She pictured herself as Rose, sneaking in here while her brothers were out so she could play with their things. Ivy had never had siblings, but she’d certainly heard enough about Daffodil’s.

Daffodil was an expert at finding every new place where Daisy hid her diary, and also an expert at ranting about how boring it always turned out to be. “She writes down EVERYTHING SHE EATS!” Daffodil had complained more than once. “There’s not a SINGLE WORD ABOUT BOYS. Or ANY INTERESTING GOSSIP. How can she be THAT EVIL and THAT BORING at the same time? Unless this is a DECOY BORING DIARY specially designed to throw me off the scent. I bet that’s it! One day I’ll find her REAL EVIL DIARY and show everyone the truth about her!”

“Daffodil,” Ivy said. “Where would Daisy hide her diary in this room?”

Daffodil stood in the center of the room, staring around with a narrowed gaze.

“She wouldn’t,” she said at last. “Because this is a room we’d have to share. So she’d hide it somewhere I’d never go. Was Rose allergic to horses? Or banned from the smithy for setting things on fire?”

“Where did you get that idea?” Violet demanded.

Daffodil shrugged. “I don’t know. She looked like someone I would like, that’s all.”

“Let’s check the smithy,” Violet said. They clambered over what was left of the wall and Ivy went over to the anvil. It was so heavy, she could see why no one had managed to bring it down to Valor yet. Anyone trying to transport it would be easy prey for dragons.

Daffodil stuck her head up the chimney and quickly emerged again, coughing. “Blech,” she said. “Pine! Come be tall over here!”

Pine and Azalea came over the walls as well, but as they crossed the smithy, suddenly all of them heard a piercing shriek in the sky.

Azalea didn’t hesitate. She dove under a pile of leaves and ashes in the corner and vanished in the first heartbeat. Foxglove came running in, grabbed Ivy and Daffodil, and dragged them into the smithy fireplace. Violet and Pine were already over the wall and hiding in the tumbledown house.

“It’ll see us,” Daffodil gasped, trying to squish farther into the fireplace. Foxglove crouched and lifted Ivy onto her shoulders; a moment later, Ivy’s head was up the chimney, and Daffodil was pressed to Foxglove’s side below her.

They were all as still as rabbits caught in the garden when the torches were lit. Ivy rested her hands lightly on the chimney walls and prayed that nothing collapsed on them. She could see a small triangle of gray sky at the top of the chimney. She couldn’t see the dragon — maybe it was up too high, hidden by clouds, or didn’t cross that section of sky. She wondered which kind it was. Was it one of the sand dragons, come back to marvel at what they had done to the village? She heard it shriek one more time, and then again a minute later, a little farther away.

No one moved for a long time after silence fell. Ivy wasn’t sure any of them would ever have moved, except that it started to rain, big fat drops plopping down the chimney onto her face. She leaned down to avoid them and felt a loose stone in the side of the chimney wall, near where her knees were.

“Oh!” she whispered. “Foxglove, can you feel this?”

Foxglove reached up and wobbled it with her hand. “Yes,” she said. “Let me put you down and I’ll check it out.”

Ivy and Daffodil waited by the anvil, shivering in the rain, as Foxglove levered out the loose stone and carefully placed it beside the fireplace. “There’s a big gap behind it,” she said. “This could be his hiding place!”

She climbed up into the chimney. Ivy held her breath — had they really found it? How quickly would her father notice that the treasure was missing? Could they get it to the dragons before he realized he’d been robbed — before he banished anyone he decided to blame?

Foxglove was hidden from view for a long time. Azalea, Pine, and Violet joined them, but nobody spoke. The rain was coming down harder, plastering their hair to their heads and soaking through their green tunics. The feeling in the air was almost unbearable. Ivy wondered what Azalea would do when Foxglove emerged with the treasure. The tension radiating off the banished Wingwatcher was making her very nervous.

Finally Foxglove ducked out of the chimney and faced them. Ivy felt her excitement dim. The look in Foxglove’s eyes was hollow.

“I think it was here,” she said. “But he must have emptied it sometime after he found you in the ruins, Pine.”

“Emptied it?” Azalea cried, rushing over to the fireplace. She climbed inside and crab-walked up the chimney wall to see for herself.

“It’s all gone?” Pine asked bleakly.

“Almost,” said Foxglove. She held out something that flashed in the dim light. “The only thing left in the hole was this.”

Glowing in the palm of her hand was a shimmering blue sapphire shaped like a star.