She had thought there would be nothing her mother could do. She had been wrong, then. And perhaps she was wrong, now, to try again—but it had been four months. Four months in which she had not approached James, had barely spoken to him, and no message from her mother had come. With every week that passed, hope had risen in her heart: Surely she was forgotten? If she were to tell James—well, surely such power would not work if one were aware of it?

The door rattled; Grace turned quickly. She had expected James, but it was the young housemaid she had seen downstairs, the one with light brown hair and freckles on her nose. She was carrying a small whisk broom and dustpan. She looked at Grace in surprise, no doubt wondering how she had managed to wander away from the party. “Can I help you, miss?”

Grace tried not to scowl. “I had been hoping to find the library.”

The maid moved toward Grace. Now that she was closer, Grace could see she had an odd, fixed smile on her lips. “Lost, then, are you?”

Unsettled, Grace started to move toward the door. “Not at all. I’ll just return to the party.”

“Oh, Grace.” The whisk broom dangled at an odd angle, Grace realized. As if there were something wrong with the girl’s hand. Her eyes stared, unfocused. “Oh, you are lost, my dear. But it’s all right; I’ve come to find you.”

Grace made for the door, but the maid was faster. She darted in between Grace and the exit. “Don’t you know me, dear?” The maid giggled, a sound that grated like an out-of-tune piano chord, discordant and strangely hollow.

Four months. Four months. Grace swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Mama?”

The maid giggled again; her lips moved out of sync with the sound. “Daughter. Are you truly surprised to see me? You must have known I’d wish to see this wedding day.”

“I did not know you had the power to possess people, Mama,” said Grace wearily. “Is he helping you?”

“He is,” breathed her mother. “Our patron, who gave you your gift, very kindly helped me into this body, though I doubt it will hold up for long.” She eyed the housemaid’s trembling hands critically. “He could have sent a shape-changing Eidolon demon, of course, or any of his other servants, but he wished me to see to this personally. He does not want his gift squandered. And you would not wish to anger him. Would you?”

His gift. The power that allowed Grace to control the minds of men, to make them do as she wished. Only men, of course—Tatiana would never have thought of women as having power or influence worth bothering to subvert.