The housekeeper dotes on me all morning, bringing me eggs and hot tea to eat in bed while the others are off. The maid buttons me into one of my old dresses, a white tea gown with fraying lace around the high neckline. I think she feels bad for the shabby state of my clothing because she attempts to fancy up the outfit with a thick ribbon of baby-blue silk tied around the chignon at the base of my skull.

The DuPre family driver kindly drops me at the train station right as the clock chimes ten. Maxine, Pascal, Lena, and Oliver are waiting for me.

Oliver raises his hand to shield his eyes from the midmorning sun. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he shouts as I cross through the crowd.

He smiles as I reach them. “How was the tour?” I ask. “I’m sorry to have missed it.”

Pascal shakes his head. “No apologies needed. Your friends told me of your predicament. Fret not, friend. If anyone can solve your problem, it is the leader.”

My predicament. I’m annoyed. I’m sure it was Maxine who told him of my magic not working. It’s so like her to reveal my secrets like they are hers to tell. I try to catch her eye, but she pointedly avoids me. I’m uncomfortable that they’ve been speaking about me, pitying me behind my back. Oliver’s eyes are full of concern and I hate it.

“The leader?” I prod, hiding my annoyance. Creating a scene won’t get me what I want, which is as many answers as possible.

Pascal nods enthusiastically. “Yes, the leader of this group. A brilliant man, the most intelligent magician I’ve ever met. An excellent teacher. I am lucky to know him. And now you will know him too.”

Small butterfly wings of hope flutter in my chest. Coming to Paris was the right choice, I know that now. We’ll find answers here, I’m sure of it.

Pascal claps his hands together. “You’ll love it! It’s utopia!”

Oliver raises his brows. “ ‘Utopia’ is a strong word.”

Pascal elbows him in the ribs and throws a fond arm around his shoulder. “You shall see, my friend! You shall see!”

The Gare de l’Est train station on the east side of the city is bursting with people on a Monday morning. Maxine is nearly bowled over by a woman pushing a pram. She mutters something I assume is a curse in French. “We should have made the driver take us.”

“It’s over an hour away, and besides, there would have been no room for the boys,” Lena says.

“We tie Oliver to the roof. Pascal attaches a rope to the back and holds on as he rides a bicycle.”

I snort. “We’ll keep it in mind for next time.”