She glimpsed her greasy black hair and bug eyes and dropped to the floor in horror. I’m still ugly! I’m still a witch! Wait. What about Albemarle? What about Reena, Chaddick . . . Tedros? They were mirrors too, weren’t they? Mirrors that told her she wasn’t ugly anymore. Slowly Agatha rose, inching back into her reflection. For the first time in her life, she didn’t look away. Beauty can only fight the truth so long, Agatha.
