From her perch on top of the locked cedar chest, Cordelia looked around Grandmother’s cottage with multifaceted beetle eyes and saw a dozen different views at once, arranged into a dazzling puzzle before her. Every different shape loomed overwhelmingly high; all the angles were off-balance, and Grandmother was nowhere to be seen. Was she even in the cottage any longer?
Cordelia reached out with two thin, secretive antennae and tasted the air, testing it for information.
She couldn’t hear anything in beetle form, but she felt the vibrations like a drumbeat. Grandmother was definitely here and moving around the floor.
If she’d been the one to train Mother in magic, she could turn Cordelia human again in a heartbeat.
Shifting forms, Cordelia fluttered up into the dusty rafters high above the room to listen and wait for the perfect moment. A dull gray moth wouldn’t be noticed hiding among all of these cobwebbed beams above the dangling tapestries—and moths, unlike beetles, had brilliant hearing. Picking a dark corner to perch in, she wafted her sensitive wings to catch every scrap of sound that floated up to her from below.
Grandmother was humming to herself. It wasn’t the family lullaby this time; it was a tune that Cordelia had never heard before, lilting and flicking like steps in a dance, and Grandmother sashayed across the floor as she hummed it. “Almost … almost there … oh my goodness, it’s the famous Lord Haldemere, isn’t it?”
She laughed, a low, delighted sound, and flicked out a cloth as she spun around, dropping into a mock curtsy for her imaginary audience. “Why, yes, it has been some time since you’ve seen me at court, my lord. But what a pity for you that I’ve returned, because I happen to have an excellent memory! I remember all your plots against me. And as grandmother to the new ruler and greatly favored by their regents—well! Who knows just what I might choose to do? Perhaps I’ll let you wonder and wait for a time before I decide upon my perfect revenge. Or perhaps, if I’m feeling really generous …”
Fully absorbed in her grandmother’s words and movements, Cordelia hadn’t even realized that she was moving, herself—until she found herself fluttering half an inch below the farthest rafter, well on her way back into full view. The light from the flames in the fireplace had drawn her without a conscious thought. Stupid moths!
She flapped swiftly back upward, every sense still attuned to her grandmother’s vicious stream of words.
“You don’t think much of my grandchild, my lord? Well, neither do I, to be perfectly frank. But everyone knows that a child-ruler is ruled by their regents, and when their regents can be persuaded—or enspelled—into good sense … well, then, what can’t we do with them, eh?”
The receptors in Cordelia’s wings took in every word, storing them all up to dissect and stew over later.
And then the tip of her right wing touched something sticky. Startled, she twisted in midair to yank her wing free … and the glistening, waiting spiderweb captured her left wing, too.
Grandmother was still practicing her greetings down below, but high up in the rafters, panic flooded Cordelia’s fragile body. Frantically, she wriggled and twisted to get free. Every turn only tangled her deeper and deeper within the web. Pictured again and again in her fractured view, a giant spider raced across the glimmering strands toward her on a rippling wave of giant, hairy brown legs.
To a human, that spider might have been hand-size. From Cordelia’s perspective, it was overwhelming.
Her tiny moth body was frantic to escape, and panic gave those instincts full control. No matter how hard she tried, Cordelia couldn’t stop the useless thrashing of her wings. But she was still a girl inside, and she knew the truth: no moth could possibly escape from this.
Even if she turned herself into a spider, tangled as she was now, she might still be prey to the web’s guardian. But if she changed into anything strong enough to break free, how could Grandmother not notice what was happening up here?
Cordelia’s wings whirred frantically within their trap. The spider’s hairy brown body settled into place just above her, filling every facet of her compound vision. Its jointed jaw cracked open. Dark fangs flashed. Venom trembled at their tips …
And the web broke with a snap as Cordelia lunged upward. Her tiny, helpless moth body had shifted into a massive black crow, whose claws ripped the web around her to hapless shreds. Her long, sharp beak seized the big brown spider and swallowed it whole with a harsh “cawwww!” of defiance.
Grandmother’s voice cut off abruptly below.
Too late to be stealthy now! Cordelia tore her way free of the web-dense rafters and dived down like vengeance with her long claws fiercely outstretched.
Some things are instinctive even for the most powerful people. Faced with a screaming crow diving directly at her eyes, Grandmother flinched, hands flying up to shield her face. It was only for an instant—but that was enough. Cordelia swooped over her dark head and through the high, narrow window beyond, where the wooden shutter had been propped open to let bright daylight inside.
Black feathers scattered in her wake as she squeezed through. Only a moment later, she was a tiny, near-invisible mosquito hovering against the outer wall above the window—and as the front door of the cottage burst open and Grandmother lunged outside in pursuit, she nipped swiftly and silently back in.
Run! Connall had ordered her. Don’t turn back for anything! But she wasn’t running anywhere without Giles and Rosalind. Families were supposed to protect each other, even if her own grandmother didn’t understand that.
Turning back into girl form, she lunged across the room to wrap her arms around the big, round oak table and half shove, half haul it across the rush-covered floor. Groaning with effort, she pushed it hard against the door. There. With luck, Grandmother would take a long time to hunt for the bird who’d so mysteriously attacked her and then disappeared. Anyone trained in magic would have to know there had been nothing natural in that attack. She might even think that the bird had been a spy from some rival sorcerer.
But the moment she gave up her search …
Cordelia hurtled across the rushes and dropped to her knees before the cedar chest in the corner, nerves jangling through every breath. With shaking fingers, she turned the heavy copper key and flung open the lid.
“Wake up!” she whisper-screamed at her triplets, who still slept tangled in their pile. “Wake up now!”
But they didn’t listen to her when they were asleep any more than they did when awake.
Behind her, the door of the cottage rattled. A moan of protest broke from her lips.
Too soon! She hadn’t managed to wake either of them yet. She couldn’t break the spell on her own, no matter what Connall thought. Grandmother’s potion was too powerful.
But maybe there was something else she could do.
Cordelia’s gaze settled on the cooling black pot that sat beside the fireplace—and the golden goblet that had fallen in her scramble to push the oak table to the door.
“What a clever child you are, my dear!” Grandmother caroled through the door. “You should have slept for hours yet—but it won’t make any difference, you know. Whatever little tricks you’re planning—and casting a bird illusion to distract me was impressive!—my magic will win in the end. Did your mother even bother to train you properly? Or did she keep her own tricks secret, like everything else she hid from you?”
Gritting her teeth, Cordelia scooped up the empty goblet from the floor and started toward the pot.
“How many secrets have you ever managed to winkle out of her?” Grandmother crooned. “It was so convenient for Kathryn, wasn’t it, to keep you locked up in the forest for all these years? Utterly safe from interference, with no one who’d ever dare let you know the dangerous truth about yourselves … Did she never drop any hints about who you truly are? Or those other brats, either?”
Brats?
No one was allowed to insult her triplets. “You don’t know anything about me or my family,” Cordelia snarled. “But if you’re talking about the Raven Crown—”
“Aha!” Grandmother let out a pealing laugh of delight. “So it is you causing all this trouble, little girl. I had a feeling that it might be! The others aren’t even awake yet, are they? But you were too wild to stay asleep for long.” She breathed her words through the door. “It’s just you and me now, dear. Do you truly believe you can stand against my magic?”
No. That answer was as obvious as the open window high above, still offering Cordelia one last chance at escape.
Swallowing hard, she took a slow, unhappy step toward the oak table that blocked the door. She knew what she had to do.
“That’s it,” Grandmother murmured. “Come closer, now. The truth is, my dear, the two of us can work together. I only need the Raven Heir, you see.” Her words purred through the air, soft and tingling. “You can go free if you help me now. You’re a feral one, aren’t you? You’d never fit in at court, I know. It would be miserable for everyone involved. But I can make quite certain that you’ll never be chased by any bothersome knights again.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust. “Connall already told me that the dukes and duchesses won’t ever let go of any possible heirs.”
“Ah, but I know something you don’t about this family.” Grandmother’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It all comes down to the mystery of you three children … and your mother’s most unforgivable secret.” She gave a low hum of anticipation. “Don’t you want to know why she’s been so desperate to keep the truth about your past hidden, even from you?”
Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat. All those years she’d spent trapped inside without any explanations …
Two images flashed before her eyes:
Mother sinking to her knees as she sent them away. “I love you all so much.”
… And Connall’s face when he’d realized exactly where they were now. She had never understood, until today, why he had spent his life so afraid.
“I’m not doing anything for you, no matter what you promise me.” Shifting shape, Cordelia snapped out hawk wings and pumped hard, clenching strong claws around her burden. Too heavy, too heavy …
She had to get higher.
Grandmother’s voice was already chanting outside. Something slammed against the front of the door with a boom. Wood shavings splintered and flew into the room. The oak table slid an inch across the floor.
Faster! Pain shot through Cordelia’s laboring legs and wings.
Giles and Rosalind snored on peacefully behind her.
Slam!
The oak table skidded across the room.
The door flew wide open. Grandmother stalked inside, arms raised to hurl a spell.
With a desperate screech, Cordelia opened her claws and dropped the refilled golden goblet over her grandmother’s dark head.
Liquid splashed everywhere. It soaked Grandmother’s elegant, beaded hairnet and flooded her face. It filled her mouth, too, as she gurgled with shock, tipping her head back and spinning around to search for the source of the attack.
Cordelia saw realization dawn in those too-familiar dark eyes as their gazes met and clashed. Grandmother’s wet face contorted in fury. Her hands rose like claws, preparing to launch more magic. Cordelia wheeled backward through the air, crying out. She could never fly away in time …
But her grandmother slid to the floor an instant later, arms falling limply to her sides. “Stupid girl!” she moaned. Her shoulders hit the ground with a thud. “Fighting me for those two brats when …” Her eyes slipped closed with her yawn. “You’re not even … their real sister!”
A moment later she was asleep, her hairnet pillowed in the rushes, with a fresh line of drool slipping down her wet cheek …
… Leaving Cordelia hovering numbly in midair with those final words echoing endlessly through her.