Her delight was tangible. She beamed at the purse, cupping it with both hands. “Oh, this is so much more than I thought it would be! Please thank Mr. Vesper for me!”

And what am I thanking him for? I wanted to ask. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Blythe whispered again, sliding the purse into her leather satchel. “My brother is a warden of a few streets that have fallen on hard times and cannot pay the duke’s tax. So Mr. Vesper’s donation is much appreciated.”

“Phelan will be pleased to hear of it,” I said, struggling to hide my surprise. This side of Phelan was new to me. And I didn’t like how it made me doubt my prior assumptions of him.

“I also have a message, for you to give to Mr. Vesper,” Blythe said. “A few weeks ago, he asked me if I had seen someone named Clementine in the art shop. I told him there had been a pretty girl named Clem with red hair, and he wanted me to inform him if I ever saw her step foot in the shop again.”

“And has she?” I asked, clearing my throat.

Blythe shook her head. “No. But the strange thing is his mother, Lady Raven, also asked about the girl. She wanted me to follow Clem home the next time she visited the shop. I thought Mr. Vesper would be interested to know his mother is also looking for her. I hope Clem is not in any sort of trouble.”

“On the contrary,” I said with a slight grimace. “Perhaps they want to commission her.”

“Perhaps. Well, good day to you . . .”

“Anna. Anna Neven.”

“Anna,” Blythe said.

I remained standing in the library long after she departed. The shadows grew long, gnarled roots around me.

The Vespers knew I was in the city. And I thought of the spell I had planned, in case Phelan discovered who I was. The spell my father had insisted I have prepared.

At the time I created it, I had believed that I would never have to cast it.

Now? I was no longer sure.

25

Phelan returned after a week and a half’s absence, and he brought the first frost of autumn to the city. I reunited with him in the library that evening, where he stood before his shelves, frantically leafing through a book. And when that failed to entice him, he set it down and reached for another, his fingers swiping through the pages.

“You were away longer than you said you would be,” I greeted him, closing the library doors behind me.

Phelan turned. His hair was tousled, his clothes uncharacteristically wrinkled from the journey. “Yes, forgive me, Anna. I hope things were uneventful here?”

“Quite,” I said, joining him before the shelves. “The dream tax has been passed on to the collector. And I gave the red ribbon purse to your contact. She was very thankful for the amount.”