The clocks heralded the day with a cacophony of clanging. Families of mice scampered down and out of the clocks as birds flew off the steepled rooftops and into the trees. On the second clang, the house elf beckoned the broom with a crook of her gnarled finger. The broom burst into the kitchen, catching crumbs and disrupting a line of ants, sweeping back and forth in rhythm to the clanging as the elf continued to cook. On the eighth clang, the clocks fell silent and the broom continued its dance, sweeping down corridors, beating against rugs, spiffying parlors, and chasing cobwebs from the ballroom.

Sunlight flooded the Lilly Lakehouse, illuminating the dust swirling in the air. Every morning, the broom chased the dust out into the summer heat, and every evening, the dust crept back into the stonework, clung to the heavy curtains and traced the tiny footsteps of the mice.

A mouse ran up the grand staircase, slipping into a hole in the wall as a pair of riding boots plodded softly past.

Abby Reid rubbed her palms against her riding breeches and paused in front of Lee Lilly's office. She knocked three slow knocks. Abby opened the door and smiled.

"I'm going for a ride this morning. Do we need anything?"

The 'we' stuck in her throat and she cleared it.

Lee leaned against his desk, a scroll of parchment unfurled in his hands. Sunlight filtered in the window and made a halo out of his bright red hair. The light slid over his face in profile, highlighting the waxy pallor of his skin, which stretched strangely over his prominent nose and cheekbones.

When he turned to look at her, a strand of red hair fell from his head and caught on the quill on the desk. Abby stared at it, resisting a shudder.

She met his guileless gaze, the gray of a toad's underbelly. His pale eyebrows nearly disappeared into his skin and emphasized the round shape of his eyes.

"We could use more asphodel root. A basket's worth should do it, if you have the time."

Abby nodded, her heart hammering. Asphodel grew in bunches over certain patches of grass in the woods. A graveyard of fallen stars, Lori had once called the white flowers, then smiled so sharply at her that Lee's constant smile had dipped into a frown.

"Love?" He said as she started to close the door.

"Don't stray too far from the trails."

Her breath hit the thin sliver of space between the door and the jamb. She caught a glimpse of Lee as he moved around the desk. A flash of stiff white sleeve, the heel of his boot, the curve of his ear. Normal. Human.

Another red hair fell, into the dust motes swirling in the light. Abby closed the door and pressed her hands against it for a moment. She scurried up the stairs and down a winding corridor. The broom bustled faintly several stories below.

Calix's bedroom door stood ajar. Abby knocked out a drum roll with her fists, then entered, her boots squeaking on the spotless stones.

A boy lounged on the window seat, every muscle corded and tense. He kept one leg bent on the narrow seat and let the other dangle to the floor. His sleep shirt was riddled with wrinkles. He pretended to look out the window, but his jaw tightened as she stepped nearer.

With effort, Abby did not look outside.

She spoke to the black curls coiled on his head.

"Come with me?" Her voice rose on a pleading note.

"That would give it away. I'll keep him distracted."

"Calix-"

"Go," he slowly turned his head to look at her. His dark eyes met hers, full of worry. "Before you change your mind."

Abby's gaze strayed to the view outside the window. The trees stretched on for miles and miles. From a distance the woods looked sparse, but Abby knew the undergrowth snagged at ankles, trails led to dead ends, the stream hid sharp rocks, and leaves and branches blotted out the sky. She could fall beneath a gnarled root and never be found.

Calix followed her glance and rose, blocking the view. In the corner, a violin, cello, and bass were propped up by height like wooden soldiers. He was the tallest of them all.

He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Abby. Go."

Abby stood on her tiptoes, resting her hands on his shoulders, which tensed and then relaxed. She used his shoulders for leverage, toes nearly lifting from the floor. She planted a kiss on his jaw.

He didn't move, though his mouth twitched up and his tired eyes cleared.

Abby stepped back and silently wished him a blissful sleep. Fall back asleep, darling, and dream of a kinder world.

She would bring that world to him.

The air outside clung to Abby's bare arms and drew beads of sweat underneath her white tunic dress. Her blond hair curled and frizzed, strands escaping from her braid as she rode down the main path from the stables. Lee had named the horse Snow for her dappled gray coat, but Abby privately called her Summer. She patted the mare's warm neck.

"We're taking our usual path by the stream, Summer. Don't worry, I've brought treats."

Carrots and the like bounced in the satchel on her back. Her mouth twisted in a rueful smile. If Sasha could see her now...

"It's going to be a long trip. Yes, it is. You'll see. We're riding to the wall."

The horse snorted, pace quickening to a trot.

"Not too quickly, Summer. We don't want him to suspect us."

Abby looked over her shoulder, finding Lee at the window, a blur of a pale face and red hair. She waved. Lee's head turned away from her, as if at the sound of a voice.

Under the cover of the woods, the temperature dropped. She took a deep breath, smelling the air fragrant with wildflowers, the leaves still damp with morning dew, and the bark warming in the sunlight. Abby paused to study the map she'd copied onto parchment and rolled into her sleeve. If she made it past the magical barrier in the middle of the woods, she would need to head east, through more woods, and toward the closest muggle village, about a day's ride away. The whole trip would take her at least a few days. She'd have to bribe or beg someone to help her, discreetly, without alerting the muggle police. So much could go wrong. There was such a long way to go between the Lilly Lakehouse and London.

She'd tried to escape once before, in the spring, just after the lake had thawed. Abby had taken the boat out to the island on a day when Lori was apparating back and forth to meet with customers. They were dodgy sorts, but Abby had hoped to stumble upon someone with a conscience.

She had not. That someone had given her right back to Lori.

If her second attempt did not work, it would be the last time. There would not be enough time before Calix turned seventeen in August.

Abby shook her head, tugging gently on the reins as she and Summer went up an incline. She listened to birdsong, the skittering of critters in the underbrush, and water flowing nearby. Abby scanned the spaces between the trees, and sang to herself softly. A nonsense song about finding friends.

Her faltering, thin voice threaded through the leaves and over the water as Summer stopped to take a drink from the stream.

Summer raised her head, her ears twitching back.

"It's okay," Abby soothed, leading her back to the trail. "They're friends, remember."

The trees rustled. A white shape flashed past the tree trunks to her left, and two more appeared on her right. Golden hooves thundered, crushing twigs and leaves. White manes blew in the wind. The creatures spoke to one another in sighs and nickers.

"Follow me!" Abby called, pressing her legs against her horse's sides.

The herd galloped through the woods around her, sunlight glinting off their horns.

"Come catch me!"

The unicorns knew this game well. They chased the girl clinging to Summer's neck, the girl who had never done them harm, the girl who cared for them after Lee left.

/

Abby drew a wobbly line on the near-transparent wall looming over her. Beyond the wall, the woods shimmered and rippled and quieted.

\

Abby made another line, joining it to the last one. It formed a rune that resembled an arrow pointing to her left. She lowered her trembling arm, studying the mass of black lines stretching just over her head and ending above the grass. A few paces away, Summer pushed her muzzle into the satchel on the ground, Abby's green cloak spilling out as the horse searched for carrots. The herd of unicorns grazed nearby. They avoided a cluster of asphodel flowers underneath a withered tree.

Black ink dripped from the slender stick in her hand. The wall looked fragile as glass, but felt solid as a block of ice. It would not budge under her fists, a hard rock, or a sharp knife. But it allowed ink. Harmless ink, which Lorelei gave to Abby in abundance with a smirk.

With a stick and ink, Abby had made a spider's web of runes just large enough for a girl and her horse to fit through.

Abby took a slow breath, and then another, running her ink stained hands through the mess of her braid. She set down the stick. She capped the large pot of ink and set it down. Abby gave Summer's rump a pat, finding an old carrot for her as she rummaged in her satchel around the bundle of bread and cheese gifted from the house elf. Abby shouldered the satchel and led Summer closer to the wall. She had to be ready. It had to be now.

Abby clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She held out a few apple slices. Unicorn heads raised to look at her. The youngest and smallest trotted up to her first, his coat still the color of silver, his horn blunted. Smiling, Abby ran her hand along his side mottled with scars.

A second unicorn nudged her, and he too, received an apple slice. His scars gleamed a silver-white against the snowy color of his coat.

"So, I need your help," Abby told the older unicorn. "It will help all of us, actually. I need to break through this barrier."

The unicorn tilted his head at her, letting out a snort that sounded like a laugh.

"I know. But seriously, if you could touch this symbol right here, with your horn, maybe we can get out. You're inherently magical, after all. Yes you are," she teased.

She guided the unicorn's head until its horn rested against the black rune. The unicorn watched as she cooed to the younger one, giving him another apple slice. It took many tries to get the younger unicorn to stay still. Between them, Abby rested her hands on both unicorn's shoulders and looked up at the wall.

"Kenaz," Abby whispered. The rune of opening. The rune of fire. Summer edged away.

"Kenaz, kenaz, kenaz," she repeated, fingers tensing on fur.

Abby tried several other runes, several other commands. Another unicorn appeared, touching his horn against the black ink on the wall.

The three unicorns, all at once, ducked their heads as heat arced through the runes in a blaze. The black ink glowed white. Abby stepped back, eyes widening.

A crack sounded like thunder. Abby let out a shocked laugh and reached for Summer's reins, keeping her from bolting.

The wall shimmered. Then the ink faded into the wall, leaving it transparent. No sign of the runes remained.

Abby stared at it. She touched her palms to the barrier, which felt warm and solid as the earth.

Tears pricked her eyes. Abby bent her head. The youngest unicorn butted her shoulder gently.

"We'll try again," Abby said, letting go of Summer's reins. "Maybe something simpler. Or more complex."

Just as she glanced at the pot of ink tipped on the ground, another crack sounded, much softer than the first one. A sharp pop. Abby flinched.

The crack of apparition.

"Abby."

Lee Lilly stood between the trees, his boots crushing the stems of the asphodel flowers. The unicorns bolted, swerving around Lee and joining together again as they ran. Summer cantered a few paces away, pawing the ground.

He said her name. Not dear, not love, but her name. He looked at her face and then at the stick dipped in ink at her feet. She was the squib Abby Reid, the means to whatever end.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was just-"

"You were never going to make it." His words were soft, but clung and caught like nettles. "There's another wall past this one. It isn't so benign. It would have flung you back and likely killed you. Snow, too," he glanced at the mare.

Lee took a step forward.

"You were never going to make it past this first wall, either. I'm alerted when you so much as breath on it," he gestured, his fingers curling in. "And if by some chance I hadn't been, the wall would have just rebuilt itself, again and again, too quickly for you to slip through."

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. She stepped back, edging along the wall. Abby's heart raced so fast she felt it pounding in her throat and her head.

He never looked angry, but he looked angry now. When Abby had first tried to escape, after Lori had hexed her silly, he'd sent the house elf up to her room with desserts and little gifts. For a few muddled hours she'd felt grateful, wondering if he cared enough to help her. Wondering if life here wasn't so terrible, and she was the insane one.

Once she'd recovered, she'd followed his example. All those times Lee left the woods, laden with bottles of unicorn blood, Abby had crept though the trees and offered the unicorns bits of fruit and small kindnesses. It made her stomach roil, but she'd done it. She'd smiled and sympathized and went out of her way to be kind to Lee, too, needing him to trust her to go out on such long rides with Summer.

In the furrow of his brows she saw betrayal.

"I'm sorry," Abby tried again. "I won't try to run anymore." She took one small step away from the wall, leaving its fading warmth.

"I didn't want to leave you. You've been nice," a smile flickered across her face. Her eyes remained wide. "I wanted to get away from her. Don't you understand? I know she's going to kill me."

And Calix, but she didn't mention him. His very existence annoyed Lee.

"It doesn't have to be that way. You could just let me go," she opened her hands, palms up, and kept her gaze locked with his.

He swallowed, his expression pained. He glanced at Summer. He continued to look away from her. Fear slid down her back in rivulets.

Lee raised his wand.

"Please!" She shouted into the trees, into the sky like a spell.

Abby shut her eyes and turned her face away. The hex hit. She fell back into the wall. Her cheek brushed against a hairline crack. Abby's eyes popped open. Her fingers scrambled and slid down the wall's shimmering surface.

Too late. She crumpled into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.