“Have you given any consideration to the list of operas I provided you?” Julian asked. “Given it will be Cécile’s debut as lead soprano, it’s important we make the correct choice. A fresh new act for a fresh new face.”

He’s still under the effects of the potion. The thought nudged me, sending a trickle of discontent through my veins. I hadn’t spoken to Sabine since I’d confronted her, but I was finding it hard to stay angry with her. What she’d tried to do was wrong, but her actions had a good intention.

“I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.” There was a trace of sarcasm in my mother’s voice, but Julian didn’t seem to notice.

“It needs to be something avant-garde, maybe a little scandalous…”

“And its selection is not our priority,” my mother interrupted. “The masque is.”

“But we need to stay ahead of our competition!”

“Drop it, Julian,” I muttered, then tuned them out and stared down at my hands. My chapped fingertips peeked out from blue lace half-gloves, nails bitten down to the quick. When had I started doing that?

Over the rattle of the carriage, I heard the sound of rushing water. A glance out the window confirmed we were on the bridge leading to the walled castle gates. The Regent’s castle was built on an island in the middle of the Indre River, the thick stone walls rising up from the swift rapids. The only access to the island was the bridges, one to the north bank and one to the south, both with heavily fortified gates. I’d never been inside the walls before, and despite myself, I was eager to see what the castle would be like.

The carriage stopped, and moments later, a guard looked in the window at us. My mother lifted a hand in greeting, and he waved us forward. I caught a quick flash of the walls as we passed through the gates. They were dull grey with a faint hint of green lichen in the mortar cracks, but the impression they gave me was of strength and practicality. The castle had been built with defense, not beauty, in mind, although to the best of my knowledge, it had never been attacked.

My eyes flicked over the outbuildings as we slowly passed by, all of them squat and sturdy. I wanted to get out and go look at them – to see what sort of activities went on within the confines of the walls. But the ground was wet and the delicate shoes my mother had insisted I wear were unsuited for traipsing through stables and smithies.

The carriage drew to a halt; and seconds later, a liveried footman opened the door, holding out an arm to help me descend. Lifting my skirts up with one hand, I slowly turned in a circle, trying to take in everything I could while Julian helped my mother out of the carriage. The castle itself was little more impressive than the outbuildings, ugly and low to the ground, with the exception of two towers rising up above the whole. Everything was a dull grey, the only flashes of color the two flags flapping in the cold breeze coming off the sea.