“Yes. For three gold coins.”

“You seem to have already emptied my pockets,” he said. “Or else I would pay.”

“Go ahead, then, Mr. Vesper.”

He arched his brow. “Go ahead with what?”

“Expose me. Reveal who I am. That’s why you told your mother to invite my parents and Imonie here tonight, no? Take your vengeance on me and let’s call a truce. We can part ways and you never have to see my deceptive face again.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t gentle. It was a wince, as if something within him ached, and he leaned closer to me. “I know you believe this night is about you, Miss Neven. Let me assure you: it’s not. And you can leave now if you want. I won’t stop you. But you will come to regret your impulsive departure when the sun rises.”

“You speak in riddles,” I said, breathless with anger. “Why are my parents here?”

“You will discover that soon enough,” he replied. “If you choose to remain.”

It was a challenge. One he knew I couldn’t resist.

The dinner bell rang.

I followed the stream of guests into the dining hall, surprised when Phelan chose to sit beside me. The table was long and narrow, sparkling with fine china and glasses and silver candelabras. Once everyone had taken a seat, I noticed that two chairs were empty.

“Two more guests will be arriving later,” said the countess, as if she had heard my thoughts. She was the last to sit at the head of the table, the duke to her left, Imonie on her right, and only once she had taken her seat did the servants file into the dining hall bearing the first course.

It was a thick green soup I had never seen before. It was also chilled, and I didn’t know what I thought about it when I forced a spoonful into my mouth.

Nura and Olivette also seemed disgusted with the green mystery. They were sitting to my left, and I watched from the corner of my eye as they took only a few polite sips. My father, who had somehow managed to sit directly across from me, drank the entire thing, savoring it.

Conversation flowed quietly. I didn’t even try to engage with Phelan. He, too, was often silent, speaking minimally when the duke attempted to draw him into a discussion about dreams.