The masque, the masque, the masque. It was all she cared about, acting as though it were the most important night of my life. There was no arguing with her, and no, I’d discovered, getting around her. The trellis running along the side of the building had been removed, a lock was installed on my window, and when I’d picked that in an attempt to escape, she’d had the cook’s husband nail the window shut. My door was bolted from the outside at night, and whenever we went anywhere, she kept a firm grip on my wrist to keep me from running off.

Any and all attempts to look for further clues toward Anushka’s identity had been thoroughly and effectively stymied. But my need to hunt her had not. I hadn’t slept for days, and I’d started throwing up everything I ate. A quick glance in the mirror showed hollow cheeks and shadowed eyes, but my color was high. I should’ve been exhausted, but instead I felt jittery, like a child who has consumed too many sweets.

“It’s weeks away.” And I wasn’t sure I’d last that long without progress. I felt as though I was being consumed from the inside out.

“Barely enough time to prepare,” she said, staring blindly at her book. “But the date is set.”

I scowled at her, though she wasn’t paying any attention. She was obsessed with this stupid performance. “Any longer and I might throw myself off a bridge,” I muttered.

Her eyes flicked my direction. “Don’t be morbid.”

“Says the person trying to kill me.”

Julian snickered from where he sat perched on a chair. My mother shot him a withering glance, but it didn’t seem to affect him in the least. The spell remained in effect, the contempt he used to hold for me replaced by his wholehearted enthusiasm for my rise to lead soprano. He might well have fallen out of love into logic, but that was not the same as falling into intelligence. If he didn’t learn to mind his tongue, I suspected he might find himself cut from the coming season entirely. For his sake, I hoped it wore off soon. “I’m bored,” he announced. “I want to go out.”

“Then go,” my mother said.

“I’ve no one to go with.”

An idea crossed through my mind. “I could go out with you, Julian. It would be a fine thing for people to start seeing us together before the start of next season, wouldn’t you agree?”

His eyes brightened at the idea.

Genevieve set down her book. “You’re not going anywhere without me until after the masque is over. I’ll not have you ruining everything.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Julian beat me to it. “Don’t you trust me to keep an eye on her?” he asked. “After all, I know how important the masque is” – his eyes went to me and then back to my mother – “to both of us.”

I silently applauded his tactic while watching my mother’s profile for any sign of what she might be thinking. But her face was as smooth and unreadable as a troll’s. “Back by midnight,” she said, and snapped her book open again.