The pale, grey morning light bled through the curtains, catching the edges of the green velvet snake. Morwenna held the toy against her cheek; the fabric shimmered with a dull lustre in the weak dawn.
She lay perfectly still for a long moment, her arm wrapped tightly around the toy's thick body while its glass eyes stared blankly at the far wall. Her legs remained tangled deep in the quilt, and Cinder was a warm, familiar weight at her feet.
She didn't want to get up. The bed was warm and the snake was soft. She knew instinctively that the world outside her nursery was cold and waiting for something she wasn't ready to face.
The dry ache in her throat and the empty pull of her stomach forced her to move. She pushed the quilt back and sat up, watching as the snake slid to the carpet with a soft thud. She retrieved it and set it back on her pillow with deliberate care.
The tall, dark mirror stood in the room's corner. She began to walk past it toward the window, but then she stopped. Her reflection was wrong.
She turned back to the glass and her heart began to hammer against her ribs. The white hair she had known all her life was vanishing. A deep, inky black spread from the roots like spilled ink in a basin of water, swallowing the white from the inside out.
It darkened everything from the scalp downward. The very tips were still pale, but the darkness was creeping steadily toward them. She touched her head, half-expecting her fingers to come away stained, but they remained clean.
A high, sharp sound escaped her before she could stop it. She clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Then she pulled them away and screamed at the top of her lungs.
"MAMA!"
She bolted for the door, her bare feet slapping against the cold floorboards. The snake fell off the bed again, but she didn't stop to pick it up.
"MAMA! PAPA! GRAN-MA!"
She scrambled into the long corridor, and her frantic flight drew the attention of every portrait on the wall. Edmund's mouth fell open in surprise. Isolde pressed a painted hand to her chest. The old woman with the white hair simply watched her with a knowing, silent gaze. Morwenna ran faster, her panic mounting with every step.
"MY HAIR! MY HAIR IS CHANGING!"
She hit the stairs, and her feet pounded against the wood until the bannister shook. The entrance hall was already full of people who had been drawn by the noise. Jane appeared from the morning room with Jack close behind, while Saoirse hurried down the steps. Aldric and Seraphina stepped out from the library. Their faces were etched with sudden alarm.
They all turned the moment she reached the bottom. Jane's face went white, and she took a frantic step forward. "What is it? What happened?"
Morwenna stopped in the middle of the hall and pointed at her head with both hands. Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath. "LOOK!"
Jane looked, and her mouth fell open. She blinked once, then twice, and let out a long, shuddering breath. Her shoulders dropped as the tension left her body. She stepped forward and pulled Morwenna close, her hands resting firmly on the girl back. "Oh," she said softly. "Oh, sweetheart."
Jack was beside her now. His expression shifted from pale alarm to a quiet relief. "It's just your hair, Morwenna."
Morwenna stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears of confusion. "JUST my hair?"
Saoirse finished her descent and leaned over to inspect the child's head, her eyebrows shooting up. "Well," she remarked. "That's certainly a new look."
"It's finally coming in," Aldric said gently, crouching in front of her.
Morwenna touched her head again, her fingers trembling. "It was white before. It was always white."
"Yes," Aldric said. "But now it has started to look like ours." He gestured to his own hair, which was black with silver at the temples, then pointed to Jack and Saoirse. "The Keith marker. You are finally growing into it."
Morwenna's gaze moved from one adult to the other. She took in the same black hair marked by that striking white streak, mirrored in Jack and Saoirse. She nodded slowly, and the first edge of panic eased to give way to a quiet, dawning wonder.
"I look like you," she whispered.
Jack crouched beside his father, and his eyes were warm and steady. "Yes. You do."
Jane scooped her up, and Morwenna wrapped her legs around her mother's waist as Jane carried her through the hall and up the stairs toward the bathroom. The tub was deep and already filled with steaming water that rose in thick, lavender-scented clouds.
Jane set her down on a wooden stool and began to unbind the blue ribbon, letting the strands fall loose. They were dark at the roots and pale at the tips. The black stood out sharply against the wet pale ends.
"Your hair is changing," Jane said as she worked. "It will take a few days, perhaps even longer. The black will keep spreading until it reaches the very ends."
Morwenna looked at a single strand she held in her hand. "Will the white ever come back?"
Jane's hands stilled on her shoulders for a heartbeat. "No. The white was from when you were very small. This is your hair now."
Morwenna turned that thought over in her mind. The white was gone, replaced by a darkness that matched her father and grandfather. She nodded slowly, accepting the change as Jane lifted her into the hot water. She sank into the tub, drawing her knees up to her chest as her hair floated around her like silk.
"Your hair isn't dyed," Jane reassured her. "It's yours, and it won't ever wash away."
"I look different," Morwenna noted.
"You look like yourself. Just a different version of yourself."
Jane washed her back and feet, focusing entirely on the soap and the water. When she was clean, Jane wrapped her in a thick towel and carried her to the bedroom.
A new dress was laid out on the bed. It was a deep, royal indigo with intricate silver embroidery along the sleeves. These were the Evans colours, and Jane had brought the garment all the way from France. The fabric felt coo as Morwenna stood still and watched herself in the mirror.
"The Evans colours," Morwenna said.
"Yes. For today."
As Jane brushed her hair, the black strands caught the light. The white at the ends remained, but the line between the two colours had already moved lower since she had woken up. Morwenna looked at her reflection. Black at the roots. White at the tips. The same steady green eyes.
"I am five," she said.
Jane offered a soft, proud smile. "You are."
. . .
The Great Hall had been transformed. Silver and green streamers hung in elegant loops from the vaulted ceiling, and floating lights drifted near the rafters like soft, golden stars. The long table was draped in a crisp white cloth, and silver candlesticks held tall candles that cast a warm glow over the room. Low bowls of deep purple and white flowers were scattered across the table, their scent filling the air.
Every person she loved was already there. Jack stood near the fire. Aldric and Seraphina sat at the head of the table. Saoirse leaned against the wall, already reaching for bread. Celestine and Lucien sat by the window, their heads close together.
Raphaël was beside them, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Luelle sat across from him, her legs tucked under her on the chair. Elara, Viviane, and Sylvaine occupied the corners of the room. Roxane watched the door with a steady gaze.
When Morwenna stepped into the hall. All heads turned in her direction.
"Happy birthday," Jack said, his voice thick with emotion.
Morwenna looked at the centre of the table where a massive cake sat. It had five candles, white frosting, and delicate flowers made of silver and purple sugar. She walked to her chair and climbed up as Jane pulled it out for her. Tilly appeared at her elbow, his large ears trembling and his eyes wet with tears.
"Happy birthday, little miss."
The candles were lit, and the family began to sing. It was the old Keith song, but Celestine and Lucien wove French words into the melody. Their voices created a beautiful, layered harmony.
Morwenna closed her eyes and pressed her palms flat against the table. When she opened them, she blew with all her might. The flames vanished, leaving only thin, grey spirals of smoke curling into the air.
For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then Saoirse let out a triumphant whoop. Luelle laughed, and the hall erupted into applause. Morwenna looked at her hands, which were small and pale.
"Presents first," she announced. "Then cake."
Saoirse laughed again. "That's my girl."
The room filled with the warm hum of conversation and the flicker of candlelight. Morwenna sat between her parents and looked at all of them. Every person she loved was in this room. She was finally five.
. . .
The decorations stayed up for two days, but the festive air thinned quickly. The floating lights dimmed, and the flowers drooped in their bowls as the petals turned brown and curled at the edges.
On the twenty-eighth, Tilly took everything down. The ribbons came away, and the candles were extinguished. The white cloth was folded and stored, and the manor grew quiet once more.
Morwenna's hair continued to darken. Each morning brought more black and less white. She stopped wandering the halls, no longer visiting the library or speaking to the portraits. She stayed on her bed, her world shrinking to the mattress and the quilt. She kept the green snake wrapped around her ribs, its velvet scales pressed tight against her chest.
Cinder lay at her feet, and his amber eyes watched her with a quiet stillness. The pressure in her chest grew strange. Her heartbeat felt wrong: sometimes racing, sometimes too slow and heavy.
The magic inside her was waking up, pressing against her skin and waiting for the bath that would either bind it or break it. She pressed her face into her toy's velvet head and tried to breathe through the tightness.
By the first of May, the window light was thin and grey. Morwenna hadn't slept well. She listened to the house settle and felt the uneven rhythm in her own chest. It was a heavy thrumming that she didn't know how to name.
Jane came to the nursery after dinner. She sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled Morwenna into her arms. The velvet snake was pressed between them.
"You will be fine," Jane whispered. Her hand moved in slow circles on Morwenna's back. "Everything will be fine."
Morwenna buried her face in her mother's shoulder, breathing in the scent of tea and lavender.
"Mama," she said. "I will be brave. I will always be brave."
Jane's arms tightened around her, but she didn't say anything else. She simply held her until Morwenna's breathing evened out. After a long time, Jane eased her back onto the pillow and pulled the quilt to her chin. She kissed her forehead and stood to walk to the door. The latch clicked, and the sound echoed in the quiet room.
Morwenna lay very still, counting each breath until Jane's footsteps faded down the hall. Only then did she turn onto her side, pulling the snake tight against her chest. Her fingers curled into the velvet until her knuckles ached.
At first, it was only a tremor in her shoulders. Then the tears came, hot and silent. She made no sound, pressing her face into the fabric as she let the fear move through her. It was a vast, cold dread that she didn't have the words to describe.
What broke free came in small, muffled sobs, swallowed by the toy's soft head as if she could keep the sound of it from ever reaching the door.
Tomorrow the chamber would be cold. The magic would demand a price. But she knew she wasn't alone. She closed her eyes and waited for morning.