She laughed, a low, delighted sound, and flicked out a cloth as she spun around, dropping into a mock curtsy for her imaginary audience. “Why, yes, it has been some time since you’ve seen me at court, my lord. But what a pity for you that I’ve returned, because I happen to have an excellent memory! I remember all your plots against me. And as grandmother to the new ruler and greatly favored by their regents—well! Who knows just what I might choose to do? Perhaps I’ll let you wonder and wait for a time before I decide upon my perfect revenge. Or perhaps, if I’m feeling really generous …”

Fully absorbed in her grandmother’s words and movements, Cordelia hadn’t even realized that she was moving, herself—until she found herself fluttering half an inch below the farthest rafter, well on her way back into full view. The light from the flames in the fireplace had drawn her without a conscious thought. Stupid moths!

She flapped swiftly back upward, every sense still attuned to her grandmother’s vicious stream of words.

“You don’t think much of my grandchild, my lord? Well, neither do I, to be perfectly frank. But everyone knows that a child-ruler is ruled by their regents, and when their regents can be persuaded—or enspelled—into good sense … well, then, what can’t we do with them, eh?”

The receptors in Cordelia’s wings took in every word, storing them all up to dissect and stew over later.

And then the tip of her right wing touched something sticky. Startled, she twisted in midair to yank her wing free … and the glistening, waiting spiderweb captured her left wing, too.

Grandmother was still practicing her greetings down below, but high up in the rafters, panic flooded Cordelia’s fragile body. Frantically, she wriggled and twisted to get free. Every turn only tangled her deeper and deeper within the web. Pictured again and again in her fractured view, a giant spider raced across the glimmering strands toward her on a rippling wave of giant, hairy brown legs.

To a human, that spider might have been hand-size. From Cordelia’s perspective, it was overwhelming.

Her tiny moth body was frantic to escape, and panic gave those instincts full control. No matter how hard she tried, Cordelia couldn’t stop the useless thrashing of her wings. But she was still a girl inside, and she knew the truth: no moth could possibly escape from this.

Even if she turned herself into a spider, tangled as she was now, she might still be prey to the web’s guardian. But if she changed into anything strong enough to break free, how could Grandmother not notice what was happening up here?