CHAPTER 1
Captured!
Avery dragged her three-year-old brother behind a boxwood bush and listened for footsteps in the brittle leaves. She couldn't be sure which was louder — the person on their trail or her own heart, galloping like a stallion in her ears.
With one hand over Henry's mouth, Avery looked down at the nicest dress she owned. Not only had she torn the ruffles and destroyed the hem, but the white linen stood out in the shadowy woods, making her an easy target.
If she survived this afternoon and made it home tonight — and that felt like a giant if — her father would demand to know why her dress was stained with grass and mud and tinged with blood.
She would tell him the truth.
How could she possibly have known that a simple walk in the woods would turn dangerous? It was her thirteenth birthday, and she'd had no intention of spending the day cooped up in their small, dusty cottage, doing chores that would need to be done again tomorrow.
Now Avery was sure she heard twigs snap. Crows bolted, and she felt someone or something watching her. Her father would understand the ruined dress.
Clothes, after all, could be replaced.
People, as their family knew all too well, could not.
"Don't let go of my hand," Avery whispered as Henry wiggled. She squeezed his shoulder until he twisted his face and nodded.
He looked scared, and why wouldn't he? Instead of playing with the paper boat tucked in his pocket, he was hiding in the ghostly woods while a cold wind whistled through the trees.
"I'll figure a way to get us out of here," Avery whispered next to Henry's ear. "Just don't make a sound, and do exactly what I say."
Henry nodded, tears dotting the corners of his big brown eyes.
Normally, hiding behind a bush was a dumb idea. Tall and long legged, Avery was the fastest runner among her friends. No one laughed about her unusually big feet or made fun of her unruly inky hair, because she could outrun everyone, including the boys. She knew she could easily outpace someone in the woods — if she didn't have Henry.
So, while the unpleasant sounds of the woods rose up around them, Avery hatched a plan.
They would move to the one place she had always felt safe.
It was now or never.
Wait, the wind seemed to whisper, but Avery didn't obey.
Taking a deep breath and grabbing Henry's hand, she ducked from behind the boxwood. Head bent and body low, she pulled her brother to the next bush and the next until they reached a butternut tree deep in the thickets — but not just any butternut tree. This was where their father had built the most spectacular tree house when Avery was a little girl.
Rising before them stood a castle tree house — two stories high with an open turret and stairs that wound through a trap door that led to a tiny chamber at its highest point. The castle included a sky bridge, a tower prison, a tunnel, and a library — perfect for a girl with a bright imagination and a hunger for stories.
In the castle Avery could be anybody she wanted to be. On sunny days, she pretended to be queen and made Henry one of her loyal subjects. She painted watercolor castles and wrote poetry while sending Henry to collect blackberries or fetch water from the nearby stream for their snack. At night, when the sky was as black as ink, Avery would lie on the roof and imagine the stars were diamonds in her crown.
This castle held many secrets — amon
