Helena sprang back. Ursula suddenly towered over them, monstrous dress and all. She was flanked by her husband, who looked frankly surprised to find himself dragged so quickly across such a wide lawn.

“Augustine,” said Helena, referring to Ursula. “You look positively lovely! I was just fetching our cousin Willard to come and say hello. You remember Willard, don’t you? We used to summer together as children at the camp upstate, before Mother died.”

Ursula nodded. “Why yes, of course. How do you do, Willard?” She extended a hand, which Kane knew not to take.

“Augustine, please, you must remember he prefers to keep quiet.”

Ursula peered at Kane. “Yes, of course.” Her face brightened. “Well, perhaps he would enjoy a tour of the gardens? I’m sure he would appreciate them, and it’s been ever so long since we summered together in…” Ursula clearly did not know where she had spent her fictitious childhood summers, and so she finished awkwardly with: “The summertime.”

Helena bowed dutifully. “Of course, sister.” She turned to Ursula’s husband and said, “Robert, come, show your new sister-in-law to a refreshment before that Katherine shows up and ruins our good time.” And they left.

Ursula hooked her arm into Kane’s and heaved him up. With her help they walked through the shade. Kane’s other hand remained fasted around his talisman.

“So you can move, but you can’t speak? Shoot. This reverie is a doozy. It wouldn’t even let me loosen this freaking corset. I tried when I first woke up, but it just got tighter. And have you seen these gardens? It’s like we’re trapped in Versailles! Massive. At least there’s no fantasy element, right? I just hope that the Others are okay. We need to find them as soon as we can and figure out what Helena is after. She’s who you were sitting with, right?”

Kane nodded.

“And I’m her older sister, Augustine Beazley, although I just got married, so who knows what my last name is now. Okay, strong start so far.”

They circled the gazebo’s manicured courtyard and then doubled back along a glittering channel choked with lily pads. Koi slid beneath them, scaled in gold and citrine. On the walk through the elaborate hedge maze they passed hundreds of guests—some upon the small stone bridges, some raking sand in a Japanese garden, some chasing after the many bejeweled peacocks—all of them sporting the same, clear white irises. They chatted with audible deportment about things like trade, taxes, tea, and horses. Cartoon topics of wealth. On the whole it felt awfully artificial, but Ursula was right: a rigidity saturated the air—the same strictness that had choked Kane—and though he knew he could speak if he needed to, he didn’t dare incite any plot twists. Not after last time.