A claw closed around Maren’s wrist, and she let out a shriek. But it wasn’t Obscura grabbing her; it was Lishta. The old woman’s head lifted up and her eyes opened so wide that Maren could see the whites all around her blue irises.

“Don’t—help—her.” Lishta forced each word out, then fell back onto her pillow, her lips still moving silently.

Obscura tutted. “Go stand over there,” she said to Maren, pointing at the dressing table. When Maren hesitated, she gave the killer moth-bee a little flick, and it zoomed toward her. “Now.”

Maren leapt out of the way, and the moth-bee hovered motionless, waiting for Obscura’s next command. The tall ballerina pulled an eyedropper full of clear liquid from her duffel bag and slipped it into the corner of Lishta’s still-moving mouth. Then she took out one of the black sachets that Maren had just made.

“No!” It took a massive effort not to snatch the dream from her hand. Maren’s insides squirmed as Obscura tucked the nightmare under Lishta’s tongue. Maren shut her eyes. She couldn’t watch Lishta suffer the horrible stings she knew were coming, over and over and over.

“Is this what I think it is?” Obscura pulled a small tin from her pocket and slid open its lid, her dark eyes gleaming with greed.

Maren couldn’t look directly at the tin. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think you do,” said Obscura. “Gran-Gran really didn’t want me to take it.”

Maren hated, hated, hated Obscura calling Lishta that, like she was her grandmother, too. “I’ve never seen it before,” she said.

Obscura slid the lid one way, then the other. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Maren hid her sweating hands behind her back and tried to keep her face as unexpressive as possible.

“You have one chance to tell me,” said Obscura. “Then I’m going to give some to Gran-Gran, and if you’ve been lying, I’ll feed her the whole bottle of sleeping medicine.” Obscura leaned over the sleeping woman and brushed a strand of gray hair off her forehead. “It might not kill her, but then again, it might.”

Maren’s stomach flopped like a fish on a hook. Lishta would die without ever waking if she didn’t tell the truth. And Maren would watch it happen.

“It’s whispering dust.” Guilt slithered like worms over her skin. She’d promised Lishta never to tell, and now she’d just given Obscura even more ammunition.

Obscura’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin. “Now show me how it works.” She swiped her thumb into the tin.

“Just a tiny pinch.” Maren hated herself for sharing this information, for letting Obscura know a single thing about this beautiful and dangerous ingredient Lishta had discovered.