Parnel, a doting father, tried to smile. “Yes. Yes.”

But it won’t be me who finds him for you.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be on my way. Again, I am so sorry for this unpleasantness. I’m afraid that, like you, I was gravely deceived.”

Because he was a decent man, Parnel saw her to the front door. Courtesy dictated that she not incant from inside a host’s dwelling, or in their presence, so she waited until the Garrick country house’s front door clicked shut then, holding her breath, ignited an incant that would take her not home, but to Brice Varen’s town house.

For the second time, she travelled without incident. Could that mean their alarm had in the end been for nothing?

I can only hope so. I am tired of strife.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” Brice said, and stepped back from his doorway. “Come in, Venette. Go through to the parlour.”

Long widowed, like Greve Danfey, and like Greve not inclined to risk a second wife, Brice lived richly but simply. His parlour lacked the fussy ostentation of her own town house, painted in masculine shades of blue and cream. A lively fire danced in the hearth.

“Brandy?” Brice said, closing the door behind him. “It’s been that kind of day, I think.”

She laughed, unamused. “Yes indeed, brandy. In fact, my dear, you can pour yourself a glass and hand me the bottle.” She rubbed her arms. “I’ve just come from the Garricks.”

Brandy bottle in hand, Brice snorted. “Where doubtless you were called every name under the sun, Venette, and not without cause. Perhaps you’ll think twice now before you indulge in any more matrimonial meddling.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” she snapped, turning away. “I’ve already had my ears chewed by Orwin, thank you. Him I must bear with, seeing as he’s my husband, but you? You are merely the most important mage in Dorana.”

Faintly smiling, Brice handed her a generous glassful of brandy. “So at last you admit it. Truly, a most remarkable day.”

“If not for the criminal waste, I’d throw this at you,” she said, waving the glass. “Oh, Brice.”

“Oh indeed,” he said, nodding, then half-emptied his own glass in one deep swallow. “Now do have a seat, my lady, and unburden yourself.”

She watched him fold into a comfortably shabby armchair, but was too keyed up to sit. Wandering the parlour, staring at its paintings and scattered figurines as though she’d never seen them before, she sipped her brandy and tried to order her thoughts.