“What did you say?”

Sybil’s face was all warmth and good humor. “Your mother is here. She’s perfectly safe, you needn’t worry.” She winked. “You never told me she was aForce.”

Lydia thought about beating her with her fists, gouging her eyes out, tearing at her flesh with her fingernails. But she never moved, and Sybil carried on, smugly oblivious.

“You can imagine my surprise. It took six of my girls to subdue her, and even that was a bit of a trial, from what I understand. Two of them required urgent medical care. She has a rather darkly creative mind, your mother.”

Six witches. Lydia had heard of Forces who could command two, perhaps three at a time. She wondered how long Evelyn had held them off before they finally took her.

“Why?” Lydia’s voice was strained. “Why did you do this?”

“Simply tying up loose ends, darling. If she’d gone running to the academy after you were taken, it would have made a terrible mess.” Something in Lydia’s face must have changed, because Sybil laughed, high and bright. “Oh dear, I would neverhurther.”

“Of course you would. You murdered Isadora in cold blood. And Kitty. You don’t even like Evelyn.”

Sybil huffed. “Honestly, darling, I thought you knew me better than that. She may be a meddlesome thorn in my side, but she’s still yourmother.”

It was a lie, of course. Sybil must have at least considered killing her. Evelyn, a powerful Force with no formal training, working from pure instinct. Backed into a corner, she would be unpredictable, lethal. There was only one reason Sybil would have kept her alive—because by killing Evelyn, she would lose all hope of ever winning Lydia to her side.

Lydia forced herself to speak calmly. “Take me to her.”

“No.”

“Sybil!”Lydia lurched forward, fists clenched, but stopped short. “Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

Sybil looked at her pityingly. “I meant what I said. I want you by my side.” She reached out to brush a lock of hair from Lydia’s face, and Lydia recoiled. “Please think about it.” She turned and walked back toward the door.

“Sybil—”

The door opened, and Sybil stepped through.

“Sybil!”

But Lydia was alone.

•••

She spent the remainderof the day in a frenzy, like an animal caught in a trap. The room had only one door, and it didn’t take long for her to realize the hidden panel would open quite easily for anyoneexcept herself. People came and went throughout the day, bringing food, or tea, but no one spoke to Lydia, and she did not attempt to engage them. TheGrimorium Bellumbeckoned to her with a constant, droning call, but she left it where it lay.

She imagined Evelyn, imprisoned somewhere in this very castle, frightened and alone. She wanted to murder the next person who walked through that door, slit their throat and fight her way to her mother, but she knew it would never work. They would kill her, and then they would kill Henry, and Rebecca, and Evelyn. No. That wasn’t the way. She would need to be clever.

By the end of the first evening, she’d formulated her plan, but she knew that it was best not to rush. Deception had never been her forte, and so she waited as long as she could bear. A day passed in silence. Then a second. Then a third.

On the fourth day, she addressed the girl who brought her breakfast.

“Tell Sybil I’d like to see her.”

The girl scowled, then shuffled out.

•••

Sybil came that afternoon,bringing tea for herself and coffee for Lydia.

“You’ll be interested to know that Gerda has made her way back to us. She tells me it was your mother who was responsible for that little stunt.”

Lydia sipped her coffee. “That took less time than I thought it would. Did she share anything interesting with our friends at the SOE while she was in their care?”

“Nothing they would believe.” Sybil’s irritation was barely masked. “Funny, I always thought of your mother as an eccentric, backward little hedge witch. Now I fear I’ve underestimated her.”