“I agree.” It makes me feel useless that I’m the one who got us into the mess and the one least able to help.

Oliver is still scowling like he has been since we walked into the guest room this morning to find Finn reading Emily Brontë in the window seat. The maid brought him clothing from Maxine’s stepfather, and the fine white shirt and linen suit jacket hung a little big off his shoulders.

“Oliver, lad, good morning.” He greeted Oliver as if he hadn’t given him the black eye he was currently sporting.

Oliver said nothing. If I had to guess, he physically bit his tongue to stop himself.

He’s been frowning since, looking alternately between Finn and me, a look on his face like there’s a math equation he can’t get right.

“My stepfather won’t let us go to the gala without escorts. But he’ll be thrilled to give us the tickets if it means an evening with an eligible suitor,” Maxine explains.

“Pascal will come,” Oliver says. “I’m sure of it.”

“And I know Pascal,” Finn retorts. “It works out perfectly. You’ll take Lena, Pascal takes Maxine, I’ll take Frances.”

I kick him hard under the table.

A muscle in Oliver’s jaw flexes. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Maxine considers. “Well, not the escort part, but the gala part.”

Oliver nods toward Finn. “Behave yourself or I’ll black your other eye to match.”

Finn just chuckles. The tips of Oliver’s ears go red, and I place my hand on his knee to soothe him.

I’d also like to punch Finn, but it’s hardly the time to be fighting. Once the veil is closed, I’ll let Oliver do whatever he wants to Finn. I’ll tend to his bloody fists when he’s done, then take a turn myself.

But for now, I pass Finn the carafe of coffee and play nice.

Slowly, over the course of croissants and so many espressos my stomach aches, a plan comes into focus.

Finn comes to me in my dreams that night. We’re standing in a rain-soaked field. The sky is rolling and angry, the soft grass beneath our bare feet is drenched, but we are dry. It’s so green here, it even smells green. I don’t know this place. I wonder if it’s Ireland.

“You really won’t leave me be, will you?” I greet him.

He shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Oh, love, we both know you don’t want that.”

“Did you interrupt my rest to say stupid things?”

“No.” He shakes his head and his face turns grim. “I came to tell you if we’re caught by any Sons at the gala, pretend you don’t know me.”

“Do you expect them to be there?”