Open the door to a spellbinding world where the wilderness is alive and a deep magic rises from the earth itself . . .
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Pari Thomson’s Greenwild, which is out June 6th!
Eleven-year-old Daisy Thistledown is on the run. Her mother has been keeping big, glittering secrets, and now she has vanished. Daisy knows it’s up to her to find Ma―but someone is hunting her across London. Someone determined to stop her from discovering the truth.
So when Daisy flees to safety through a mysterious hidden doorway, she can barely believe her eyes―she has stepped out of the city and into another world.
This is the Greenwild. Bursting with magic and full of amazing natural wonders, it seems too astonishing to be true. But not only is this land of green magic real, it holds the key to finding Daisy’s mother.
And someone wants to destroy it.
Daisy must band together with a botanical genius, a boy who can talk with animals, and a cat with an attitude to uncover the truth about who she really is. Only then can she channel the power that will change her whole world . . . and save the Greenwild itself.
Chapter 10
The light of the paperweight dimmed to a soft glow, barely more than a glimmer, as if it knew they needed to keep hidden. Daisy ducked low, moving stealthily through the dim shapes of the palm trees, following the thready beam of light that traced out a faint path ahead. Napoleon darted along it, confidently leading the way between the roots of the trees—and then vanished behind a cascade of vines.
She could hear Craven at the entrance to the glasshouse. The door seemed to be jammed, and he was arguing with the other man.
Daisy glanced around and pushed after Napoleon, feeling waxy leaves brush against her cheeks and catch on her clothes in her haste. Even as she whipped her second foot inside the curtain of vines, she heard glass shattering as Craven broke his way into the Palm House.
‘Watch the exits, Fleish.’ His voice was harsh, and she saw him draw close to her hiding place. ‘She must be in here somewhere.’ Daisy’s breath felt stapled to the back of her throat. Her fear was so palpable she was surprised he couldn’t smell it, like a bloodhound.
‘Here, girl,’ said Fleish. ‘Come out now. We won’t hurt you.’
Yeah, right, thought Daisy.
Her back was pressed against a large tree, and she crouched down to make herself smaller. And then she saw it: a small door in the heart of the foliage.
It was low and gleamed with silver light round its edges, and above it shone a coat of arms in finely worked glass: two crossed dandelions above an oak tree. The handle of the door was cool and silver, and it turned soundlessly, like something in a black-and-white film.
Napoleon leapt across the threshold, just as Craven drew closer once again. Daisy hesitated, then followed, shutting the door silently behind her.
Immediately, all noises ceased. Ahead of them was a forest of towering oak trees, twined with thorny roses. It was dim within the forest, and round lanterns were strung between the trees, scattering light like gold sequins across a narrow and winding path. Napoleon was poised just ahead of her, looking back as if to say, Hurry up, then. The roses were the size of dinner plates, and their scent was overwhelming, like a perfume with spikes. Plumed birds, electric blue and yellow and rainbow-coloured, glided from branch to branch, and shimmery green moths trailed from flower to flower, looking for nectar.
One thing was certain: they were no longer in Kew Gardens, or not in any part of it Daisy knew, at least.
She stepped forward slowly. Any moment now she’d wake up and find herself back in Kew, probably with a nasty concussion. She pinched a giant rose petal between thumb and forefinger. It was velvet-skinned and soft, and the thorn next to it, when she tested it, was sharp enough to draw blood.
‘Ouch!’
Was it possible to hallucinate pain?
The paperweight shone softly in her hand, lighting the way through the forest, which seemed to grow and rise up around them. The path began to curve, and then with a sudden turn a little hut came into view, its light shining out like a star amidst the trees. As they drew closer, Daisy saw that the hut was topped with the same coat of arms she’d spotted above the silver door: crossed dandelions above an oak tree. And standing at the entrance was a squat man dressed in red overalls with gold epaulettes, like a cross between a soldier and a gardener. There was a parakeet on his shoulder and he was leaning on a sharpened pitchfork that glinted in the light.
‘Hold,’ he called out. ‘Who goes there?’
