Blue butterflies with gold wings. Pink butterflies with orange spots. Butterflies with tiger stripes and topaz eyes.

I’ve never seen anything like them.

I stop, amazed. They’re flying in a steady stream out of the rose garden.

I hear a bubbly laugh and hasten forward. It’s Maura. I’d know that spun-sugar laugh anywhere. But if the butterflies are moving—when did she learn to do animation spells?

I slip around the tall hedges into the garden, hoping to surprise her.

I’m the one who’s surprised.

Elena Robichaud sits on the bench, a thin cigarette between her lips. She’s blowing smoke rings. As each ring rises, she transforms it into a butterfly that flutters after the others.

And Maura—Maura’s sprawled on the grass in one of her old dresses, her red hair shining in the sun, watching Elena with adoration.

Elena glances up. “Hello, Cate.” She gives one more puff on her cigarette. The smoke ring becomes a butterfly with velvety, ruby-tipped wings. Then she takes the cigarette from her lips, tosses it to the ground, and crushes it beneath one boot. “Maura and I were just going over animation spells. Would you like to try one?”

Anger rolls over me. All her pretty words of friendship aside, I don’t like this woman. I don’t trust her with Maura. When we were very little, Maura used to look atmewith that sort of hero worship—like she would follow me anywhere, embark on any mad scheme I suggested.

There’s a book at Elena’s feet, brown with white lettering. I focus on it. I shut out everything else, and I do not let the possibility of failure enter my mind.

“Agito.”At the Elliotts’, I gave the teacup a gentle tap with my mind. There’s nothing gentle in the way I heave this book now.

It whizzes through the air and flies across the garden, landing exactly where I wanted it: at the foot of the statue of Athena.

“Cate!” Maura gasps. “Where did you learn that?”

I stride into the center of the garden. “Elena, I’d like to talk to my sister. Alone.”

“We’re having a lesson,” Maura says haughtily, resting on her elbows. “You’re interrupting.”

“A good thing, too!” I wave a hand back toward the house, half hidden behind the tall shrubbery. “I hardly think this is what Father hired her to teach us!”

“I wasn’t aware you knew how to do animation spells,” Elena says.

“Neither was I,” Maura grumbles, standing and brushing bits of grass from her pale yellow skirt.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I just learned it today.” But I feel a twinge of guilt for the other secrets I’m keeping from my sister. There are so many: my mind-magic, the prophecy, the letter from Zara, kissing Finn. If I was angry to find her practicing magic with Elena without my permission—well, multiply that by ten, and I imagine it’s still not as furious as she’d be with me.

“Liar, you did not!” Maura gasps, planting her hands on her hips. “I’ve been trying all afternoon and I can’t move anything yet.”

I sigh, leaning down to yank out a fast-growing weed. “Yes, well, occasionally I do manage to pound something into this thick skull of mine.”

“That is quite fast, though,” Elena says slowly, and my stomach plummets. Why did I have to go and boast?

“Whatever you want to talk about, you can tell Elena. She wants to help us,” Maura insists. She reaches down, plucks a pink rose, and tucks it behind one ear.

I take a deep breath. “So she says.”

Elena stands, scowling. “If you’d stop being so childish and admit that—” She gathers herself, running a hand over her hair. “No. You’re right. The two of you ought to talk. I’ll be in my room.”

Maura and I watch her go, swishing elegantly out of the garden, her dark skirts hissing against the cobblestones. Somehow, I feel as though I’m the one who’s come off badly in this.

“What’s wrong with you?” Maura demands.

“She’s a stranger! And youtold herabout us!” Maura doesn’t answer. I stride forward until we’re nose to nose, my heeled shoes clapping against the cobblestones like a horse’s hooves. “Didn’t you?”

Maura crosses her arms. “Oh, what if I did? Do you think I need to ask your leave?”

“Yes, actually! Youshouldask my leave, and Tess’s, too. It’s not only your secret, Maura.”

“What do you think she’ll do, expose us to the Brothers? She’s a witch herself. She wants to teach us things. She knows heaps of spells we don’t. We can trust her, Cate.”

“Can we? She hasn’t been entirely honest with you.” I bite my lip, ignoring the fact that I haven’t either. I sit on the bench, the marble still warm from Elena’s body. “With any of us, I mean. It’s no coincidence that she ended up here, in a house with three witches. The Sisterhood—they’re all witches.”

“All of them?” Maura gasps. I nod, but her reaction isn’t what I expected. “That’s—Cate, that’s dozens of witches in the convent in New London alone! Elena’s been hinting about my joining the Sisterhood, and I didn’t understand why, but—oh! That makes sense now, doesn’t it?”

Maura’s eyes are sparkling with excitement, her cheeks flushed. She catches at my sleeve. “We could join them! They could teach us all about magic, and we’d be in New London, and we wouldn’t have to marry any wretched old men!” She twirls around, her pale skirts flaring out around her. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

Oh no. “Maura,” I say gently. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? It’s not as though you’re in love with Paul. You said yourself you don’t really want to marry him. We could all stay together, and we’d be safe from the Brothers.”

She looks so happy. So pretty, spinning around in the sunshine.

And she’s right. Now that I know what the Sisterhood is, it’s a viable possibility. It’s certainly better than marrying an old man and playing nursemaid to half a dozen brats. But something about Elena’s promises feels disingenuous. It’s got to be difficult, keeping the Sisters’ true nature a secret. Would they ask me to use my mind-magic on their enemies, like in the old days? Is that why Mother married Father and fled to the country?

You will be hunted by those who would use you for their own ends. You cannot trust anyone.

Was Mother being over-cautious, or was her warning justified? What does she know about the Sisterhood that I don’t?

Maura reads the doubt on my face. “Or you could marry Paul after all. If Tess and I joined the Sisters, we’d all be in New London together! You havechoices!” she chirps.

Do I? Then why don’t I feel happy about any of them?

She spins around again, then falls over into the grass, dizzy and delighted with the prospect of escape. Our little corner of the world is enough for me, but it isn’t enough for her. Maybe it’s all the grand romances she’s read; maybe it’s the stories Mother used to tell over her cradle. She wants more than this. She said it last week, quite plainly, but I don’t think I realized how much she wants it until this very moment.