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As the creature considered the request, she kept her gaze fastened on Cyra, reading her like a book. Cyra dropped her own under the scrutiny, studying the muddy water at her feet as the spider judged her for her sins, seeing far beyond what lay on the surface. The monster wearing a hellseher’s skin. That was all she was now: a monster.

“Your heart is heavy,” the spider observed.

Cyra lifted her head; it, too, was heavy. “It is.”

“You’ve made many mistakes.”

“I have.” A sob cracked the confession apart.

A peculiar silence. Then the Widow whispered, “But you’re sorry.”

Tears slipped down Cyra’s cold face. “I’ve never been more sorry in all my life.” But being sorry, she’d learned, did not fix anything.

Erasmus came closer, taking her hand in comfort.

“You’ve been alive for a very long time,” the spider said. “Everyone makes mistakes, even those who have lived a fraction of your years.”

Cyra knew the Widow was right. And maybe this was a truth she desperately needed to hear, after spending many years beating herself up for her missteps and oversights. But she would never forgive herself for her many blunders—that, she refused.

The Widow seemed to already know this, because she said then, her words coasting on a saddened sigh, “Look into the fountain.”

Cyra’s heart swelled with hope as she and Erasmus stepped up to the fountain’s gaping mouth. The water inside was nolonger murky, but sprinkled with stars and motes of light. A miniature galaxy.

As they stood there, the churning water stilled, turning glass-smooth. The stars winked out, and fat drops of liquid dribbled from the ceiling, casting new ripples across the surface. Slowly, the face of a young woman took shape in the water, and Cyra had to concentrate on breathing as she beheld her adult daughter for the very first time.

Her hair was honey-blonde, her skin fair, her eyes a vivid blue. A smattering of freckles dotted her nose, her smile bright and carefree. Cyra watched, enraptured, her shaking hands moving to grip the fountain’s rough edge, as the girl tipped her head back and laughed. She was lounging on the dock of a sunlit beach with two friends—two witches, one a redhead, the other a brunette.

Cyra swallowed. “When?” she asked the Widow.

“Two weeks ago.”

Her throat tightened with emotion, but she managed to say, the words strangled, “And where is she now?”

“Sleeping. Safe.”

Cyra couldn’t tear her eyes off her daughter as Lily and her friends jumped to their feet. They raced each other to the end of the dock and jumped, laughing and shrieking, into the ocean.

“She’s beautiful,” Cyra whispered. Erasmus came closer, wrapping an arm around her. Tears sparkled on his cheeks. “Erasmus, isn’t she beautiful?” She extended a hand toward the water—reaching for Lily, who’d resurfaced in the ocean, laughing as she pushed her wet hair back.

A flood of black engulfed the image, and Cyra’s stomach sank with disappointment as Lily disappeared, leaving Cyra’s own reflection—the face that hadn’t changed in a hideously long time—staring back at her in the gloom.

“Your daughter is being hunted,” the Widow said, reiterating Cyra’s confession in a metallic tone. “Many a person looks for her.”

“Bounty hunters?” Cyra asked. They had no ideawho,exactly, was hunting Lily—only that many people were.

“Some.”

“We have to stop them.” Cyra stepped around the fountain, pressing her hands together in supplication. “How do we stop them? Please.Please,if you can help us, just tell us what to do. I’ll give anything?—”

“My dear, you must hire someone stronger,” the spider said.

Cyra blinked.Hire someone stronger…It wasn’t a stupid suggestion; in fact, it was…clever. What better way to deal with an opponent than to hire someone who could beat them at their own job? Someone who could find Lily and…well, Cyra wasn’t certain what would happen after.

“Are you saying,” Cyra began, her brows knitting together, “we should hire someone to act as her…bodyguard?”

“Precisely.”

Her shoulders sank. A moment ago, she’d considered the Widow a genius. But now…now, she wasn’t so sure.