“You are lovely,” he said, “Like a just opened flower kissed with dew.” Regina stood on the threshold, the light from her lamp forming a pool around her feet. She held it behind her skirts as if the light itself could become tainted by the scene in front of her. “The most lovely?” Eirwen leaned on her broom “The fairest one of all,” Horace leaned towards Eirwen, the firelight casting his face in sharp shadows. He was aging, just as Regina was, the plump of his cheek indented by a hollow, the line of his smile marked with creases. Regina backed away from the room. Horace’s words hurt, but Eirwen’s cut her heart straight from her chest. Eirwen, who she had taken into her home. Eirwen, who she had treated as a daughter. Pulling on her cloak, Regina unlatched the outer door. Snow blew in drifts, so white that it seemed to glow even in the darkness. “Fair,” she thought, “like Eirwen’s skin.” Regina shivered as she stepped out into the snow, sinking thigh-deep into th