“You might as well do it,” Katrien said from the mirror. When all three of them looked at her, she shrugged. “Provoking the kingdom’s most powerful sorcerer, turning Elisabeth loose in a ballroom . . . what could possibly go wrong?”

TWENTY-FIVE

PRESENTED WITH THE genuine article, Elisabeth conceded that it had, indeed, been foolish of her to mistake Ashcroft Manor for a palace. The real palace was so large that she couldn’t see the entire building through the carriage’s window. Instead she gaped at its towers upside down in the reflecting pool, which flashed past for an eternity, lit by votives floating on the water. She felt as though they had passed into a different world, leaving the city far behind. The drive up the lane clung to her like a spell—the trees sparkling with fairy lights, hedges trimmed into geometrical mazes, and fountains in the shape of swans and lions, everything veiled in the alluring shimmer of dusk.

But her bewitchment faded like a glamour as the coach slowed, joining the line of carriages pulling up at the front doors. The carriages stretched in a chain all the way around the reflecting pool, ejecting an endless stream of guests, who ascended the steps in candlelight. Soon, she would have to convince all of them of Ashcroft’s guilt.

Her stomach lurched when the coach came to a full, final stop. A servant in the palace’s rose-colored uniform opened the door, and Elisabeth accepted Nathaniel’s hand, stepping down carefully in her tightly laced silk shoes. His severe expression faltered as his hand grazed the cape covering her gown.

“Scrivener,” he said carefully, “I don’t mean to be forward, but is that a—”

“A sword hidden underneath my dress? Yes, it is.”

“I see. And how exactly is it—”

“I thought you didn’t mean to be forward.” She squeezed his arm. “Come on,” she said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Let’s go.”

Chandeliers glittered through the palace’s windows, almost too dazzling to look at directly. She was aware of a number of curious looks being sent in her direction as they mounted the stairs, everyone eager to see the first companion Nathaniel had ever brought to the ball. Her heart pounded. If only they were attending as a real couple, about to pass the night dancing and laughing and sipping champagne.

At the top of the stairs, a pair of footmen ushered them inside. Slowly, she let go of Nathaniel. Pillars soared upward to a curved ceiling painted with moving clouds and cherubs. The gold-and-cream clouds drifted across the pastel blue sky, and the cherubs fanned their wings. The archway at the far end of the hall had to lead to the ballroom, its entrance sending down a curtain of golden leaves. Guests gasped in delight as they stepped through the illusion, vanishing into the room beyond.

A servant approached to take Elisabeth’s cloak. She hesitated before she undid the ribbon tying the garment at her throat, feeling the silk glide through her fingers, the fur and velvet lift away. Afterward, she resisted the urge to fold her arms across her chest. The air chilled her bare skin as though she had shed a skin of armor.

Nathaniel glanced at her, and paused. He hadn’t yet seen her in her gown. The chandeliers threw prisms over its ivory fabric, setting the ruched silk aglow with a silvery sheen. Golden leaves flowed across the bodice, clustered at the top to form a scalloped décolletage, and again at the gown’s hem, where they floated atop a sheer layer of organza. Pearl earrings shivered against her neck like chips of ice.

Nathaniel had passed the ride to the palace in silence, his thoughts impossible to guess. Now his eyes widened; he looked lost. “Elisabeth,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You look . . .”

“Marvelous,” a man said, bustling over to shake Nathaniel’s hand. With a sinking heart, Elisabeth recognized him as Lord Ingram from Ashcroft’s dinner party. “Marvelous to see you, Magister Thorn. I just wanted to say, what excellent work on the illusions. When we heard you had been commissioned this year, we half expected to arrive and find the place decorated with skeletons!” He let out a braying laugh at his own joke. Nathaniel’s jaw clenched, but Lord Ingram didn’t notice. “And who is this lovely young lady?” He turned to Elisabeth, looking up, and then up some more, as he discovered that she was nearly a head taller than him.

“That is Miss Scrivener, dear,” said Lady Ingram, arriving alongside her husband. “From the papers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Lord Ingram rocked back on his heels. “Miss Scrivener, I was under the impression you had been sent—well, that’s hardly appropriate for me to—please excuse me.” Lady Ingram was tugging him away, a frigid smile fixed on her face. He went without complaint, shooting troubled glances over his shoulder.

Elisabeth’s heart sank further. Now that she looked, she saw signs of the rumors everywhere. Women paused to stare, then whisper to their partners, their lips molding around the word “hospital.” No one else tried to approach her and Nathaniel as they made their way toward the ballroom. Gossip churned in their wake, hidden behind gloved hands and polite smiles.

“I’m ruining your reputation, aren’t I?” she asked, watching the spectacle unfold.

“Don’t worry,” Nathaniel said. “I’ve been hard at work trying to ruin my reputation for years. Perhaps after this, influential families will stop trying to catapult their unwed daughters over my garden fence. Which actually did happen once. I had to fend her off with a trowel.”

Elisabeth smiled, unable to resist his grin. But her smile faded as they neared the archway.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the vise that closed on her lungs. It was too late to turn back. Even if it weren’t, even if the ballroom teemed with Ashcroft’s demons, she would still press on; she had no other choice.

As they passed through the curtain of leaves, wonder briefly overcame her fear. They stood in a great chamber overgrown by a forest glade. A flock of sapphire butterflies swirled around them, flashing like jewels, only to dart away toward the orchestra and scatter between the instruments. Ivy twined through the music stands, and wildflowers engulfed the refreshment tables. The enchanted scene was filled with people dressed in silk and fur and diamonds, laughing in amazement as leaves drifted down from the chandeliers.

But no amount of beauty could overcome the fact that somewhere within this grandeur, Ashcroft awaited them.

“Would you care for a drink, miss?”

Even before Elisabeth turned, she knew whom she would find standing beside her. Still, she almost started in surprise when she laid eyes on Silas: blond and brown-eyed, dressed in palace livery, holding a tray of champagne flutes. He looked thoroughly, resignedly human. She and Nathaniel made a show of selecting their glasses in order to buy themselves a few seconds.

“Thank you for doing this,” Elisabeth whispered.

Silas sighed. “I assure you, I would not have agreed to the plan had this indignity been part of your original proposal. The livery is ill-fitting, and I would not wish to serve this detestable vintage even to a commoner. No offense intended, Miss Scrivener.”

Elisabeth coughed, hiding a laugh. “None taken.”

Demons weren’t permitted inside the palace, but Nathaniel had been able to sneak Silas in that afternoon, illusion and all, when he’d arrived to enchant the ballroom. Silas had been keeping an eye on things ever since.