Ally's POV

　　"Ally, trust me," Poppy insists, her emerald eyes shimmering with an earnestness that almost- almost- sweeps away my doubts.

　　"Fine." My voice is steady, hiding the storm of anxiety within. My fingers curl around the cool glass, and I bring it to my lips. The potion slides down my throat, bitter as betrayal, thick as regret.

　　"Let's go," I say.

　　Fingers trembling ever so slightly, I draw the slender obsidian communicator from its ...