“It’s one of the duke’s nightmares,” said Phelan, holding up the letter. Its wax seal was like a drop of blood. “Lord Deryn has heard of my new partner, and so this is an invitation to meet you. I would accompany you, but my mother has called me to one of her council meetings on the west side of the city, and I fear it will take me most of the day.”

“I can collect the duke’s dream on my own,” I said. And then I realized that Anna Neven wouldn’t know how to divine a nightmare, and I made myself hesitate. “What if his nightmare needs divination? I don’t know how to do that yet.”

“It won’t require divination,” Phelan replied, leaving the duke’s letter on the tabletop. “His Grace always recalls his dreams with sharp precision. All you need for this visit is the book of nightmares, ink, and a quill. Does that sound acceptable to you, Miss Neven?”

“Yes.” I started to gather what I needed. My hands trembled, and I was struck with an unexpected bolt of homesickness. I could almost deceive myself, pretending I was back home in Hereswith, packing what I needed to visit the Fieldings. A day that was only weeks ago, and yet how distant it felt now.

“As I mentioned,” Phelan said, breaking my thoughts and handing me a leather satchel to pack my things. I carefully slid the book of nightmares within it. “I’ll be gone until dark. But you are more than welcome to remain here and have dinner with Deacon and Mrs. Stirling. In fact, she will probably be offended if you don’t.”

I smiled. “Then I’ll plan to have dinner here.” I buckled the satchel and slid its worn strap over my shoulder.

“Very good. I should go now, but perhaps tomorrow I can teach you how to divine a dream?” he asked.

I nodded, and we went our separate ways.

The duke was waiting for me in his drawing room. The chamber was wide and brightly lit. The walls were wainscoted, and thankfully no mirrors were present for me to sidestep around. Spires of golden candelabras were positioned behind couches and chairs. The hearth was cut from blue-veined marble, crackling with a slow-burning fire. Tasseled curtains framed the tall windows, which overlooked the front garden and the street. Busts of heroes sat in corners, and a small olive tree grew in a pot before one of the south-facing windows.

I paused to soak in the grandeur. And I smelled the duke before I saw him; there was a strange scent in the air, like rotting parchment, followed by the sweetness of bergamot.

“You must be Anna Neven,” he said.

I startled and spun to face him. My old etiquette training surged, and I dropped a proper curtsy, although the weight of the satchel made me look clumsy.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Deryn.”