Phelan never answered, as we were interrupted by Mrs. Stirling, who brought in a pot of slippery elm tea and a pile of letters that had just arrived in the post.

Phelan and I sat at the desk, drank tea, and sorted through the correspondence. Most were nightmare requests, and I made a list of names we needed to visit.

“This one is for you,” Phelan said, handing a thick envelope to me.

I accepted it with reservation. Who would write to me? And then I saw the golden wax seal, and I slowly opened it, slipping out an exquisite invitation.

Lady Raven Vesper was inviting me to a dinner party, following the next new moon. November seventeenth.

I stared at that date until it swam on the paper. Imonie’s words flooded back to me: It was a night of feasting, when the people of the mountains lit fires and ate their favorite foods and danced beneath the stars. Did the countess know this? Was this all some coincidence of dates? I didn’t think that it was, and I must have been staring at the invite too long, because Phelan asked, “Would you like to attend it with me, Anna? As my date?”

My heart quickened at his offer. I hated that it did; I hated that I wanted to go with him. I winced, swallowing the pain and the desire, and dropped the invitation on the table.

“I’m fairly certain your mother loathes me,” I replied.

“She doesn’t loathe you.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“I’m afraid that excuse won’t do, Anna. I’ll provide you with something.”

“Of course you will.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

Yes. “No.”

Phelan leaned across the desk and said, “I know you dislike this sort of thing. As do I, but my mother has given me an order, so I cannot escape it. And I told her I would not attend without you.”

That caught my attention. “She orders you to attend dinner parties?”

“Not often. But this time, yes.” And he smiled, as if that would help change my mind.

It was not the charm of his smile, but the enticing thought of seeing the countess again, in her mansion. I would have access to her private residence—a deviah magician with a multitude of secrets—and I knew this opportunity would not come again. It was the perfect chance to glean more information for the exposé I planned to write about the Vespers.

“Very well,” I conceded. “I will go as your date, but only if I am the one to remove the knight’s helm on the new moon.”

His smile melted into a scowl. I waited for him to protest, but instead he extended his hand across the desk and said, “I agree to your terms.”

I hesitated only a beat before I reached out and let my hand slide into his.

We shook on it.

The moon waxed.