“And you,” Lily added, turning to Jack, “could add poppies to your garland. I could add lilies. They’re poisonous too, you know. If we leave blossoms all over her kitchen table, where she drinks her tea, everyone will think it’s an accident if a few petals fall—”

“You hardly even know Raven,” Jack broke in, the blood rushing through her ears. This plan was getting too specific. Too possible. “Why would you choose him over your own mother?”

Lily chuckled, and Jack felt fingers tickling her spine. “I’m not doing this for Raven. I’m doing it for myself.”

Jack swallowed, searching for bruises on Lily’s hands and feet. Cuts. Scars. “Is your mother hurting you, too?” she asked, as Belle leaned back on her haunches, letting go of Lily’s wrists.

Lily slid out from under her, clambering to her feet. “You could search me with a magnifying glass and you wouldn’t be able to find my wounds,” she said, striding toward the house.

“Wait!” Jack hurried after her. Belle followed more slowly, a wolf studying a rabbit she was saving for later. “What did you do with—”

“The recipe?” Lily asked cheerfully, and it was funny, how innocent that word sounded. Like they could talk about it in front of Raven, and he’d never know what they were planning. They could talk about it in front of his stepmother, the woman they were plotting to poison.

To kill.

“Oh, I tucked it somewhere safe,” Lily said, waving a hand. “It’s my protection, in case you decide to blame me for the entire thing. It has to look like an accident, and we have to be equally guilty.”

“We don’t need your help,” Belle said, joining them in the yard. The orchard sat at their backs; the great stone manor sprawled out before them. And on the wraparound porch, Raven held a tray of four drinks in his hands, one for each of them.

Including his stepsister.

“We do need her help,” Jack murmured, linking her arm through Belle’s. From a distance, they must’ve looked like a couple of school kids, gossiping and sharing secrets. And they were. “People in town know that we’re Raven’s best friends, and they might’ve heard us talking about his stepmom. They might suspect us if poppy and belladonna are the only flowers in her tea. But lilies? Named after her flesh and blood?”

The girls turned to Lily then, stopping her before she reached the steps to the porch. “Why are you helping us?” Jack whispered, her back to the house, and to Raven. “You could’ve let us take care of the problem. You could’ve kept your hands clean.”