Bewildered, Magpie could only think to snap, “My brothers smoke cheroots, not cigarillos!” as she turned away. But she stopped when she saw the looks on the crows’ faces.

“Jacksmoke . . . ,” whispered Pigeon, still staring at Vesper.

Magpie glanced back over her shoulder and the first thing she saw was the look of confusion on the lady’s face. Then she noticed Vesper’s hair. “Oh,” she said.

Vesper’s hands fluttered to her head and jerked away. Her hair was writhing. “There. Are. Worms. In. My. Hair,” she gasped between deep breaths as a look of horror spread over her face.

But she was wrong. Biting her lip, Magpie stared. Where a moment ago had been shining, perfumed black hair, now there were living worms, rooted at the scalp and wriggling. Lady Vesper didn’t have worms in her hair. She had worms instead of hair.

“Get them off!” she cried.

“Um—” Magpie said.

“Um?” Vesper hissed at her. “Whatever you’ve done, minx, undo it now or you’ll wish you’d never breathed Dreamdark air!”

But Magpie had no idea what she’d done. She stared at her fists, clasping them tighter to quell the faint tingling, and shrugged helplessly.

The lady spun wildly around. “I mustn’t be seen like this!” she said, and paused to fix Magpie with a vicious glare. “The day you next look into my eyes will go badly for you, do you hear me, savage?” A worm made an effort to explore her nostril and her hands flew to her face. She cried out in disgust and spread her wings and whirled suddenly away into the shadow of the trees.

Magpie turned to look at the birds, who were still staring, - gape-beaked.

“Gorm, Mags, what’d ye do to her?” breathed Pigeon.

She shook her head and looked again to her fingers, wiggling them hesitantly. “I don’t know!”

“Jacksmoke, feathers,” said Calypso, coming up behind them. “En’t ye heard me calling ye? It’s curtain time!” He saw the looks on their faces and stopped short. “What did ye do, ’Pie?” he instantly asked.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Well, did ye?”

“Aye,” she admitted in a woeful voice.

“She turned some lady’s hair into worms!” Pup broke in breathlessly, hopping from foot to foot. “Ye should’ve seen it!”

Calypso’s eyes widened.

“It’ll be trouble,” said Pigeon, glancing around nervously. “Trouble!”

“I didn’t mean to—” Magpie began, but just then one of the pomaded gents poked his head around the caravan.

“Little gypsy, do you know where the queen has gone?”

“Queen?” croaked Calypso, shooting Magpie a quizzical glance. “Since when has Dreamdark had a queen?”

“Since last moon, crow. Isn’t it fine? A new queen in Alabaster Palace! Spread the news when you go. Tell everyone!” cried the gent, ducking away again.

“Ach, ’Pie! Tell me ye didn’t—” Calypso began, turning back to her, but where Magpie had been there was only a human earring lying on the moss and a stir in the air from her hasty passage. Magpie had fled.