“Lord Orso sends his regards.”

He looks into my eyes, and I wish I could tell what he is thinking.

“Don’t let her drink anything,” he adds. Then he releases me and is gone.

One thing has become clear: if the Assassins can sneak into the palace unnoticed, then so can the Tiger’s men. Ettie is not safe, not even here.

I have to think. Something will occur tonight. Montparnasse didn’t have to warn me, but he did. Which means there’s still a chance I can find what I came for and sneak away with Ettie before it happens.

I find Ettie and the prince at the back of the ballroom. The music has stopped and everyone is gathered around, talking excitedly.

I get to Ettie and whisper in her ear, “We have to go.”

She starts to follow me, but the prince sees us leaving and grabs my arm, asking where we’re going.

“I must fetch something in my room,” I lie.

“I can send a servant.”

“No. Please. It’s important.”

“But a mesmerist has come. Don’t you want to see her? It was a last-minute engagement, but she’s said to be remarkable.”

I look up. Everyone is on their feet, facing a small stage decorated with exotic objects. A gong echoes through the ballroom, and a hushed excitement steals over the crowd.

“Messieurs et mesdames, please welcome la Grande Meresmo.”

The crowd claps enthusiastically. An eerie high-pitched music begins to play as la Meresmo enters. She is veiled, draped in layers of silk, with a belt of coins around her waist and a turban on her head. Her eyes are blackened with kohl, her hands and wrists covered with rings and bracelets. Nonetheless, there’s no mistaking those eyes. It’s Lady Corday.

“Ettie, we must go.”

“Oh, but, Nina, can’t we watch?” Ettie doesn’t recognize the Lady of the Assassins Guild in her costume.

“You’ve heard of the mystical powers of the mesmerists.” Corday’s voice rings out. “Men and women who studied the dark arts, learning to make others obey their commands. Perhaps we’ll start with a volunteer.” Corday looks around. She crooks a finger. “Madame Langur,” she says.

Madame Langur looks horrified; she turns to the queen, who nods approval, and the lady reluctantly gives in. She goes to the stage and is helped up by two servants.

“Madame, have you ever been a sparrow?” Corday asks.

Madame Langur is confused.

Corday moves her fan back and forth in a slow and steady motion. “No, of course you haven’t.” She fixes the woman with an intense stare. “Look at me, madame. Look directly at me, and don’t look away.”

Madame Langur’s eyes follow the fan.

“Now sleep!” Corday says.

Madame Langur freezes. She remains upright, but her head lolls forward, and in the hush that follows, she starts to snore.

The ballroom erupts in rapturous applause.

Corday waits for it to calm, then says, “When I snap my fingers, you will awake a sparrow. Now … moineau!”

As Corday snaps her fingers, Madame Langur opens her eyes and, putting her head to one side, begins to twitter like a bird. The audience cheers uproariously. The queen looks positively enthralled.