Holding the strand of hair between my fingers, I did my best to ignore the shake in my hand. I’d only have one chance at this, and the results were uncertain. Turning the lamp as high as it would go, I focused on the flame, drawing on its power even as I held the hair above it. It crackled; burning unnaturally slowly and bright as the magic flared and I focused my thoughts. “Show me my mother.”

Nothing happened.

“Show me Genevieve,” I demanded, hating the desperation in my voice. Please be alive.

Nothing.

I pulled harder, magic coming into me from all directions, and then I switched tactics. “Show me Anushka.”

An image appeared in the flame, and the sound of my mother singing danced through the air. Anushka’s with her! Leaning forward, I peered into the fire, but it was like looking through the keyhole of a door. Motion flashed in front of me, black fabric and pale skin, but whoever it was sat too close to the lamp to give me any perspective.

My mother sang her warm-up exercises, and there was nothing in her voice hinting at fear or anxiety. She did not yet realize the danger she was in, but that didn’t matter. She was alive, and that was all I cared about.

“We have Cécile. She’s getting ready even as we speak.” A voice interrupted my mother’s exercises, but it was a familiar one: Marie.

Elbows bent and hands clasped in front of the flame, and I held my breath, waiting to hear Anushka speak. “Good. Cursed girl seemed set to ruin everything.” My heart skipped – it was my mother who had spoken. Something wasn’t right.

“She thinks she needs to protect you,” Marie replied, her voice toneless. “She’ll play right into your hands and bring the creature along with her.”

My heartbeat seemed to slow, each thump, thump, thump deafening. Realization was dawning on me, too slowly. Too quickly. The wild sting of betrayal pierced my chest, and my wretched heart prayed that my mind was mistaken.

“You’ve convinced her to perform?”

“Yes.” Marie was silent for a moment. “Is the performance truly necessary? The risks…”

“The ritual is everything. The timing is everything,” my mother interrupted. “The last one disrupted both, and look at the cost: I was weakened enough that one of them was able to break free. It cannot happen again.”

No, no, no! I was on my feet, rotating around the flame, trying to find an angle where I could see her face. I needed proof that it wasn’t her – that I was mistaken. That I’d misunderstood.

“Go out and mingle with your guests, Marie. And make sure you and yours stay clear of the troll. His death is mine, along with all the power that comes with it. Tonight, I will crush what remains of the mighty fey.”

I clenched my teeth to keep the threatening sobs from betraying me. Dropping to my knees, I looked up through the flame and saw her face. Her painfully familiar face, and around her throat, the necklace that marked those destined to die. The necklace I should have been wearing.