Behind her, Leopoldine and Lasimonne leaned forward with comical interest to hang on Célie’s every word. Without preamble, the melusines sitting beside Célie rose politely and offered their seats to the guards, who accepted with equal courtesy. It was all very civil. Almost saccharine. “You must try the sargassum,” Lasimonne insisted, spooning the yellowish leaves onto Célie’s plate and drizzling green sauce over them. “It is the Oracle’s favored dish.”

I eyed her plate suspiciously, feeling very much like I’d failed to prepare for a schoolroom test. “I thought the salted sea lettuce was her favorite?”

He blinked at me before turning to Leopoldine, who nodded gravely. “It is true. Sargassum was her favored dish yesterday.”

Oh god.

“Dear me.” Lasimonne lifted a horrified hand to his chest before bowing deeply over Célie’s plate of sargassum. “My apologies, mademoiselle. Of course you must sample the salted sea lettuce instead. Good gracious. The Oracle would not have forgotten such a slight.”

Beau and I exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Without another word, I heaped salted sea lettuce onto first my plate, then Beau’s. “To the right of the dinner fork,” he muttered discreetly as I studied the mismatched cutlery on either side of my plate. I speared a leaf with the tiny fork, but before I could lift it to my mouth, Beau stopped me with the curt shake of his head. “Cut it first. Were you raised in a barn?”

Heat licked at my cheeks as I returned the leaf to my plate, searching for the proper knife.

Elvire sipped at the effervescent liquid in her flute as Célie cut her own lettuce into exemplary pieces. “Yes,” the former said, “the Oracle positively banished Guillaumette for the gaffe last week.”

“An insipid woman,” Leopoldine added conspiratorially. “I never cared for her.”

Elvire fixed her with a cool stare, lifting a silver brow. “Verily? Is she not the godmother of your daughter?”

Leopoldine abruptly busied herself with her own drink, unable to answer.

“Where is Angelica?” I focused on cutting my sea lettuce into perfect squares, lest Elvire or Leopoldine or the octopi in the street take offense and feed me to the giant squid. “Will she be joining us?”

Lasimonne stared at me as if I were the giant squid. “Of course she is.” Though clearly vexed that I’d spoken at all, he didn’t hesitate to pour me a flute of the effervescent liquid. So polite. So fascinating. If I spilled my plate in his lap, would he thank me? “She is the most treasured of the Oracle’s companions. I daresay she will arrive with Our Lady herself.”