After a final wary glance, Thorn pushed the two women behind a door, which he immediately closed behind him and double-locked. Aunt Rosaline gasped with astonishment and Ophelia’s eyes widened behind her glasses: resplendent at the close of day, a country park flaunted its autumn foliage all around them. No more night. No more snow. No more Citaceleste. By some unbelievable conjuring trick, they had popped up somewhere else entirely. Ophelia turned on her heels: the door they’d just come through was just standing there, absurdly, in the middle of the lawn.
