Ruby felt light-headed. The way the coat had transformed before her eyes from a cracked old thing to a soft, rippling fabric somewhere between leather and suede. She’d never seen anything like it. What kind of fabric did that? She held the comb in one hand, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the coat. Once again she could feel the draw of the garment. She wanted more than anything to take it in her hands, to stroke it, to hold it to her face. Constance caught her looking, must have seen the covetous gleam in Ruby’s eyes, because she held it closer to her, crossed her arms over it, and leaned away. Ruby held out her hand; she couldn’t help it.

“Just let me touch it. Please.” Her fingertips reached out, trembling. Constance was saying something, but the words weren’t quite clear. She reached a little further. If she could only hold it, feel it for a second …

A sharp pain seared Ruby’s knuckles, and she jumped back, shouting out with surprise. Constance had slapped her hand, hard.

“What did you do that for? It really hurt.”

“You weren’t listening to me. You were under its spell.”

The coat had gone; she’d put it away somewhere out of sight, and without the presence of it, Ruby felt shame at what she’d tried to do. This is what Gregor must have felt, though he wouldn’t for a moment have thought to fight it. He saw it, liked it, and took it for himself. The way he’d been planning to do with Ruby. He’d hidden her phone, put a tracker on her. Would he have gone as far as to keep her violin? No, he hadn’t needed to. Leonie was the reason she couldn’t stay away. She saw then how—and why—he’d offered Leonie up to her in pieces, like bait. All the small things he’d encouraged her to do for the baby over the past few weeks—the nappies, the feeding when Constance wasn’t able, the babysitting of both mother and child. It was real, the trust they shared, the bond. But it did exactly that: she was bonded, now, and it felt unbreakable, love and confinement in one, like sweet shackles.