“Nothing,” I said, shielding my eyes. “Can you turn the lights down?” I didn’t remember Arachne’s lair being so bright, but the glare was making me squint.

Arachne stayed still. It was hard to tell but I had the feeling she was staring at me. “How long have you been wearing that?”

“What?”

“Alex.” Arachne’s voice was sharp and clear. “How long have you been wearing your cloak?”

“I don’t know?” The light was making it hard to concentrate. “I just need to rest until the sun goes down. I’ll be—”

“Take it off,” Arachne said.

“What?” I squinted at her. “Why?”

“Take off your cloak,” Arachne said, pronouncing each word carefully. “Now.”

It was a simple enough request but I felt reluctant. The cloak was the only thing keeping me hidden; without it I wasn’t safe. “Look, just—”

It’s easy to forget how fast Arachne can move. She’s the size of a station wagon and by all rights she should be slow, but she’s much, much faster than she looks and she can go from a standing start to full speed in the time it takes you to blink. I should have seen it coming but my precognition’s tuned to sense danger, not movement, and by the time I realised it wasn’t registering, Arachne was on top of me. Her two front legs caught the mist cloak and yanked it off me in a single precise movement.

Light stabbed into my eyes, burning through my brain, erasing everything in white fire. My skin seemed to ignite, flaring in sudden agony, and I couldn’t see or hear or feel. All I could feel was light burning into me, too bright, too—

* * *

When I came to my senses I was lying on one of Arachne’s sofas. I tried to open my eyes, and the light sent a flash of pain bouncing around inside my head. I winced and screwed my eyes shut again.

“Why were you still wearing your cloak?” Arachne asked. I could smell her herbal scent, and from the sound of it she was right next to me.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” I muttered. I felt groggy, but also more awake; it was as though something that had been making my thoughts fuzzy was gone.

“I warned you,” Arachne said, and her voice was sharp. “When I gave you that cloak, I told you to be sparing about when you used it. Did you forget?”

“It was ten years ago, okay?”

Arachne sighed. “I suppose for you that is a long time, isn’t it? I keep forgetting how short human memories are.”

I pulled myself upright and forced my eyes open. I had to shade them with my hand; everything was much too bright. “What happened?”

“Hold your hand up to the light,” Arachne said.