The Prince and His Princess
“Come here. Look at this bloody thing.”
From behind a half-collapsed gravestone, Iris emerged, brushing dirt from her palms. “What is it now? Did the battery go flat again?”
“No,” Ron muttered, holding the wand out toward her like it was contaminated. “It picked up something. A reading. From the girl.”
Iris blinked. “What girl?”
“Moira’s niece. Lila.”
At that, Iris’s expression shifted. She stepped forward quickly, snatching the wand from his hand and tilting it toward the light. The small, enchanted dial at its center was still pulsing faintly, yes, but unmistakably.
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