Squaring my shoulders, I approached Julian. “You can’t really believe she means to go through with it,” I said, leaning against the wall next to him.

He silently crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the floor.

“It’s probably only a ploy to increase the excitement over the masque. Genevieve de Troyes’ final performance,” I said, lowering my voice in mimicry of our stage manager. “Six months from now, she’ll probably be opening some grand new opera from the continent, and I’ll be back as her understudy.”

Julian snorted softly, unconvinced.

Nibbling on my lip, I stared into the depths of the brandy I still held. “She would have told you before anyone else if she really meant it,” I said. “She confides so much in you – more than even me, and I’m her daughter. The reason she’s upset is probably because she thought you’d see through to the heart of her little plot.”

“Why should she confide in you?” he muttered. “She hardly knows you to trust you.”

My spine stiffened, and I bit down on a retort that the distance between us was far more her choice than mine. But doing so would not help speed this process along. “I know,” I said instead. “I’m envious of you in that.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and I knew my ploy had worked. And frankly, everything I’d said felt true. I didn’t believe for a second that my mother had really decided to give up her career in favor of mine – she needed to be onstage like she needed air.

“Envy is unbecoming.” He plucked the glass out of my hand. “But I’ll take your peace offering. For now.” He swallowed the brandy with one gulp and grimaced. “My God, where did you get that? Tastes like it has been sitting behind a plant pot for a month.”

“I…” But before I could finish, a draft rushed through the room, and the dregs of the brandy beaded together, rising up the sides of the glass to perch on the rim. Julian’s eyes went blank for instant, and when they refocused, they were confused.

“I don’t really know why I care,” he said, then frowned. “Cared. What matters is asses in seats. No one wants to see an old woman playing a young woman’s part. Truthfully, I’m glad she decided to retire. It would have been embarrassing to watch her fight her eventual decline. This is our livelihood, and having you star will put money in our pockets.” He set the glass on the table, and the beads of brandy collapsed inward, pooling at the bottom once more.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. There was nothing in Julian’s expression or tone to suggest he intended his words to hurt. They were emotionless. Cool. Logical. Strangely out of character.

I picked up the discarded glass and sniffed it, a faintly herbal smell filling my nostrils along with the charge of something more. My skin prickled and my headache faded, because a charlatan couldn’t have made this potion.