“Enough with formalities,” the duke said with a smile. The sunlight gleamed on his perfect teeth. “I am the one who is honored to meet you today. Phelan is destined to become one of the greatest magicians in Endellion, and I am pleased to know that he has found a good match.”

Destined to be the greatest, was he?

“Come, join me at the table,” Lord Deryn said, ushering me across the room to a round card table. A tea platter was set out for us, with ginger biscuits and small sandwiches.

I sat and carefully arranged the book of nightmares on the table while the duke poured us both a steaming cup of tea. He looked to be my father’s age, his hair an ashy shade of brown and trimmed short. The silver in his beard caught the sunlight, as did the trio of emerald rings on his slender fingers. He was dressed in black and gold, and beneath the brief flutter of his jacket, I thought I saw a small dagger sheathed at his side. But perhaps I was mistaken.

“Have you always been a resident of Endellion, Miss Neven?” he asked.

I took the teacup he offered and busied myself with adding cream and sugar. But my palms were perspiring. Lying to Phelan was not difficult, due to our history. Lying to Nura and Olivette was harder because I liked them, as was deceiving little Deacon. But lying to the Duke of Bardyllis’s face? I was weaving a dangerous web, one that might catch me. “I have, Your Grace. My mother was a seamstress in the west quarter.”

“Oh? Where, exactly?” he asked, settling into his chair across from me. He took note of my garments, which made me stiffen. “I am always on the hunt for a good tailor.”

I swallowed a scalding sip of tea. My toes curled in my boots, and I commanded myself to hold it together, to spin the lie. “My mother passed away this past spring, Your Grace. Or else I’m sure she would be honored to work for you. She was of the lower class and was not employed in one shop alone but drifted to wherever she could find work.”

“I see,” he said, and I thought he was studying me far too intently. “That is unfortunate. And your father? Was he the one to teach you magic?”

“I never knew my father. My mother was a magician and she taught me everything I know.”

“You must have been very close to her.”

I nodded and dropped my eyes to my tea. To my relief, Lord Deryn ceased asking me any further personal questions, and I prepared to record his dream.

“This nightmare occurred last night, Your Grace?” I asked, opening my ink and scrawling the date, his name, and his address on a fresh page.