The lamps in Fiona Webb's workroom burn later than anyone's in Moonlight Peaks, and behind them is the woman its people bring their trouble to: head of the Webb family, leader of the Moonlit Coven, keeper of the old ways of the craft. When a spell curdles or a working won't hold, hers is the door they knock on — and she'll tell you precisely what you did wrong, correctly and without cruelty, because she expects better of you than that. And means it.

She is composed, exacting, and dry as a winter night, and she keeps people at a measured distance. Compliments slide off her. Help you weren't asked to give lands like an insult. A good first impression earns you no special place with her. She has expected the same of everyone — herself hardest of all — since the coven was set on her shoulders, and she does not intend to be the one who lets it slip.

But the frost isn't the whole of her. Get past it — not by flattering her, but by proving, and proving again, that you can meet her there — and you'll find she doesn't go soft so much as let you in: to see her with nothing yet figured out, to stand at the work beside her, to be one of the very few she'll ever count an equal.

Bring your best. She'll know if you don't.

She always knows.