“And one last thing, Clem.” But he hesitated, and I sensed this was the reason why he had charmed the room, so no one could eavesdrop. “You mentioned that you’re doing all this because you want to know why the Vesper brothers chose Hereswith. I want to know as well. I don’t want you to risk yourself, but if the opportunity presents itself for you to . . . uncover this, I want you to share it with me on Monday nights. And if you come across any information about the countess . . . I would also like to know it, Clem.”

“The countess? Why do you want information on her?” I asked, remembering the stilted moment I had met her in the art shop. She had studied me with cold reserve and said, You look familiar. Have we met before?

“She’s an old acquaintance,” he answered, glancing away. The hair rose on my arms as I wondered what would make a selfish noblewoman interact with a rustic magician like my father. “We were never friends—I was far too lowly for that—but we worked together until we had a falling-out, years ago.”

“Do you think she told her sons to take Hereswith, as a way to slight you?”

“I don’t know,” Papa replied, a bit too quickly for my liking. “Now, do you agree to my terms?”

I nodded.

“Good. Did you drink your remedy tonight?”

“Not yet,” I said, but I reached for the small vial, which sat waiting on my bedside table.

“You’re a warden again,” Papa said. “It would be wise to continue drinking them every night. Particularly since your partner doesn’t know who you truly are.”

I didn’t say that I had been taking them every night since we left Hereswith, as he’d asked me to. And because he seemed to be waiting, I drank the remedy. It went down like a secret, and even after all these years of swallowing them night after night, I still grimaced.

But I knew what Papa implied. It would be disastrous indeed if I strove to be a vengeful eye in Phelan’s house, only to let a nightmare, of all things, betray who I was.

15

“Is your book going to bite me again?” I asked, standing in Phelan’s library. It was my first day of work with him, our first day of tenuous partnership. It was going as well as could be expected. I had been half an hour late, due to a carriage crash on the lower north quadrant, and I had swiftly come to discover Phelan detested tardiness.

His back was angled to me as he watered the plants on the table, sunlight gilding his dark hair. “No, not today.”

“But perhaps tomorrow?”

He glanced at me, noticing the wrinkles on my plaid skirt, my taupe shirt with brass buttons gleaming up the front. My hair was braided, at least, and he returned his gaze to the plants.