Celeste thought of the single woman three doors down who wrote sensation stories for a newspaper back East and the two women on the second floor whom Mariel once caught canoodling on the stairs. Rumor had it that Mrs. Ruth herself had been a sporting woman for a brief stint in the capital once upon a time.

There were so few places for women like the ones in this house to live as they wished and feel safe. It could be disastrous for the Virtues to start looking too closely at the Elysium residents.

Celeste did not regret going to the paper. She had to do everything she could to save Mariel. But she would not forgive herself if harm came to these women due to her actions.

“You are right, Mrs. Ruth. What can I do to make amends?”

Perhaps it was her humble tone, but Ruth softened. “I am afraid it is too late for amends. And I am truly sorry, Celeste, but I simply cannot have you and Mariel here anymore.”

“But the trial is tomorrow, and Mariel is sure to be found innocent.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The landlady drew a sealed letter from her pocket. The insignia of the Order of Chamuel was pressed into the red wax.

Celeste’s heart sank. The Virtues had already taken notice. No wonder Ruth wanted her gone.

“You have until end of day tomorrow.”

Mrs. Ruth did not linger after that.

Celeste leaned against the door, overwhelmed before the day had begun. So she was to be homeless. It would not be the first time, she thought, remembering the aftermath of her father’s death and her subsequent eviction, but the timing could not be worse. The Eden was closed until further notice, which meant she was out of gainful employment, and she may not have burned her bridge with Hypatia, but she’d certainly set it on fire. Before Lilitha, all would have been quickly forgiven, but now she was not sure. No, she would have to find them lodging somewhere else.

She ran through the list of people she might impose on in Goetia. It was depressingly short. There was Abraxas, who she was sure would welcome her into his home and his bed, but that would be lying down with a devil, quite literally, and if she did it, she would not get up the same person. There was Zeke, who might welcome her and Mariel in as friends under such dire circumstances. He lived in the barn out behind the Eden, which served as his home and his workshop. Surely there was room for a temporary cot until she found Mariel and herself new lodging. It was not ideal, but nothing was right now. Zeke’s barn would have to do. She decided to call on him first thing.

She still held the letter in her hand, and she tore it open, ripping through the wax seal with her fingernail. It was from Ibrahim.