I began to walk to the door, but I turned to regard him one final time. I caught a glimpse of his true reflection in the mirror. An old, shrewd man was he.

But two could play that game.

“The countess, of course,” I said, and departed without another word.

38

Eventide fell.

I began to prepare for the night. I washed my face and braided my hair, hiding the auburn strands. I donned a plaid skirt, a fresh chemise, and a black bodice to lace over it. The clothes I felt most comfortable in. I drew my stockings up to my knees and put on my boots, my dagger tucked in its hiding place, and then ate the meal that appeared on my table. Pumpernickel bread and a roasted hen and water still cold from a mountain stream.

I was one of the first to reach the hall that night.

The Vesper brothers were present, leaning against one of the trestle tables. I made a point to avoid looking at Lennox, but my gaze drifted to Phelan. He was already looking at me; I took three deep breaths before I broke our stare, walking the length of the hall.

Every minute that passed heightened my worry. The potential manifestation of Phelan’s dreams was the root of it, but there was also the possibility of my parents’ dreams, or Imonie’s, or even Mazarine’s to expose me. I didn’t know if they dreamt of me or not, and it made me anxious.

As soon as I thought about Papa, he appeared in the hall, dressed in his best and prepared to fight. I shared one fleeting glance with him, and then we both ignored each other.

Nura and Olivette did not arrive, and I presumed they were resting that night, safe in their bedchamber.

I watched the last of the light fade through the windows and was surprised to see the duke enter the hall, just as I’d requested. He held a glass of water, and he meandered over to Phelan and Lennox, speaking a few words with them.

Perhaps he had only come here to taunt me. But then the duke met my gaze from across the hall and lifted his glass to me.

I acknowledged him with a bow of my head, just before he departed.

Alliances were not carved in stone, it seemed.

Phelan noticed our exchange, but only because I was never far from his attention. And I couldn’t help but notice his every detail in return. The garments that fit him perfectly: fawn-brown trousers and knee-high boots, a waistcoat embroidered with the phases of the moon, a cravat, a black tailed jacket, and a rapier sheathed at his belt. His dark hair was loose, just as I preferred.