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“Well, hello there.”

Thicket’s body turned to ice.

Slowly, she glanced up.

Dangling a few feet before her face was a spider. Its body was the size of a grown man’s palm and was covered with coarse brown hair. Six eyes blinked in unison, twinkling like black stars.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything as a scream lodged itself halfway up her throat.

“Do not be afraid,” the spider said. Its fangs clicked as it spoke, which did absolutely nothing to calm the racing of her heart. “I do not intend to harm you.”

She had gotten over the fact that pigs could fly and cats, ravens, owls, and even blue jays could talk. But she drew a line at spiders, of all things.

“Then w-what do you want?” she couldn’t help the tremor of her voice or the way the very presence of the spider sent fear slithering through her veins.

“To offer my services, of course.”

“What services?”

If spiders could grin, this one would have spread its fangs wide. “My fate altering services.”

“Fate altering?” Thicket echoed, mind whirring. “Like… how cats can read futures?”

“I don’t offer a glimpse into your fate,” the spider hissed, managing to sound insulted. “I offer a chance to change your fate. Spin a new one. With my help, you could even alter the prophecy—”

“You know about the prophecy?” she interrupted then caught herself, recalling the cat’s warning.

“That’s not my offer,” the spider sang.

Not fortune telling. Fate altering. As in, allowing her to change what was going to happen in the future? If she could change her future—the prophecy—she could create a reality that guaranteed a future not just for herself but for her kingdom. Then it wouldn’t matter whether people believed in her or whether she was capable of beating her sister.

The prophecy isn’t what it seems. If you want to save your kingdom, you would do well to take my advice. The cat’s warning hissed through her mind, making her falter. She didn’t know whether she could trust the cat. She didn’t even know if she could trust the spider. What she did know was that she needed something to give her an edge over Lavender. She was never going to be able to get a new Aneuma. She probably wouldn’t even learn what the prophecy said, warning or not. But she didn’t have to know what was written in the prophecy if she could change it.

Thicket set her jaw and met the spider’s six, unblinking eyes. “How do I change my fate?”

The spider tapped its front legs together. “There is simply a matter of payment.”

The eagerness twinkling in its black eyes set her on edge, making doubt fill the spaces where her determination started to crack. “What do you want?”

“A taste of your magic.”

Thicket’s arms drew in close. “Why? What do you want with it?”

“Changing your fate requires you to alter something about your current reality.”

“What will happen if I agree?”

“You will no longer be the wielder of the blue flame.”

The words hung around her, as sharp-tipped as a knife. She couldn’t move for fear of disturbing them. Couldn’t even breathe.

She would lose her magic, or at least a part of it? Was that even possible? She studied the spider, searching for any signs of trickery, but found no trace of it.

“You are already the most powerful to walk the Continent,” the spider said, lowering itself further on its thread. “Surely, you have some magic to spare.”

If she did this, she would lose the one thing that made her special. The one thing that still kept her people’s belief in her alive.

But if she altered her fate to guarantee everyone got a happily ever after, then what did it matter? She had learned a long time ago that nothing came without sacrifice—especially something as coveted as happiness.