Belladonna

her from the Dark Guides and prevented them from walling her up inside her garden at the school. After she brought the Places of Light together and formed Sanctuary, Yoshani began dividing his time between his own community of Light and the part of Sanctuary that was more accessible to visitors. People felt easy around him, so he had become an informal listener and counselor to the weary hearts that reached Sanctuary.
    He was one of the few people she trusted without reservation. But...
    "They don't want to talk to me."
    Lee looked at her, his temper shining in his green eyes. "They don't have a choice, Belladonna. The leaders of the Places of Light were very clear about that. All the leaders."
    You're not without friends, Glorianna thought. And you're not without family. Those are blessings you need to hold in your heart and remember.
    "Are you going back to the guest house in Sanctuary?" Glorianna asked.
    "I'd rather not."
    She figured as much and would welcome his company, but she was worried about the depth of his anger and bitterness. So the best thing for both of them was to fall back on a simple ploy that had never failed her: treat him like the younger brother he was.
    "Did you bring something to eat? The last time you were here, you cleaned out the pantry and didn't bother to tell me."
    He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I brought something to eat. And I did not clean out the pantry, just that last bit of cake Mother had made — which was stale by the way since you'd left it so long, so that doesn't count."
    "Does too."
    "Does not."
    "Does too."
    "Does —" Lee glared at her.
    "Do either of us have to cook this food you brought?"
    "We'll have to heat it up and slice the bread and cheese. Even I can manage that, Glorianna."
    Satisfied that he was now focused on being an annoyed sibling, she smiled sweetly. "In that case, you can stay. Want to make yourself useful and help me weed?"
    "Not a chance." He gave her the look that always made her want to smack him. "It's my rest day. Remember?"

Chapter Seven
    C aitlin dug her pitchfork into the compost heap that was tucked away in one corner of her secret garden. Pull out the weeds that choke the flowers and form a messy tangle around the bushes, let them simmer in a corner where sun, water, and air turned them into a rotting stew, and gradually they become a rich loam that fed the same flowers and bushes they had tried to usurp.
    If only her own life could be that simple. If only the rotting stew of her emotions could be changed into rich loam.
    She worked until her muscles ached. Not because the compost heap needed that much work but because she didn't want to touch the rest of the garden while bitter anger churned inside her. When thirst became a torment, she gave the compost heap one last turn, then leaned the pitchfork against the garden wall and walked over to the little pool of water shaded by a willow tree. The ground around one side of the pool rose up chest high and was a tumble of stones and pieces of slate that created a series of small waterfalls. The spring that fed the pool had to start somewhere among the stones since there was no sign of it on the other side of the garden wall, but she had never found the source.
    Taking the tin cup she kept tucked among the stones, she filled it under one of the little waterfalls and drank it dry once, twice. When she filled the cup a third time, she settled beside the pool, one hand moving idly through the water as she sipped from the cup and looked around the garden that had provided her with an odd kind of companionship most of her life.
    The pool had been her first exhilarating — and later, frightening — example of her power over the physical world.
    She'd been six years old when she'd found the garden hidden on the hill behind her family's cottage. Michael had just left for the first time to take up the wandering life, and she'd run off, heartbroken that her only friend and playmate had abandoned her.
    She'd run and run and run. Aunt Brighid had told her she would make friends when she started school, but it hadn't happened. The other girls teased her and said cruel things, and she knew the teacher heard the girls and did nothing, encouraging them by keeping silent. So there were no friends, and without Michael to help her, school was hard. And Aunt Brighid hadn't wanted to admit that the same ... something ... that lived inside Michael and had driven him away from Raven's