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Thankfully, the seamstress had taken my request for black dresses into account, and while most of the gowns were far too fancy for my liking, I quite liked the one I selected for tea, and the black elbow-length gloves that went with it.

Once I was dressed, I asked to be left alone before being escorted to the terrace. Once the door was closed, I removed the letter I’d received from my skirt pocket, my fingers tracing over the fake name.

Could it have been from Christine? A cancellation? Or…

I opened the envelope and removed the parchment inside. My eyes darted over the cursive script.

Miss Ravenwood,

If his court learned your true name, it would be ruinous, would it not? We should hate to see you tormented by the scandal. Perhaps it is time to take the bull by the horns and claim dominion over your future.

Our invitation remains open.

I quickly folded the letter and shoved it back into the envelope. There was no signature, but I knew who it had come from.

Lou Demarque.

He wanted my relics, including the one I’d already given away.

I rushed over to the mantle and stood on my toes to reach the vase my old bodice was hidden in. I tipped it over, and the bodice fell to my feet. A knot of tension loosened in my chest.

Before I reached down to pick it up, I felt them calling out to me. Amarielle, Roux, and Dominique. Torment, Ruin, and Dominion. My little coven.

The spell I’d written to summon Dominique was ringing in my ears. The words in Old Sang rang like a song I knew by heart. It had been the right thing to do, deciding to summon her. The Devouring was growing bolder. My fingers found the magickal seam that was keeping her from me. I could smell the dried blood from my attempt to free them.

An idea formed. One that was wickedly tempting.

What if I brought them with me to tea?

I would soon be at a small table with the paramour of the most ambitious man in The Unified Territories who would spend the hour trying to take me apart like needlework, and I would be doing it without magick. I could use all the support I could get.

And wearing them wasn’t using them. The pocket was sealed. I couldn’t open it if I tried, not until tomorrow. They would just be there, the way they’d been there for me the night I broke a protection charm and killed two men.

What harm could come from wearing it under my clothing?

I tried to undo the buttons on the back of the dress, but I couldn’t reach them, not unless I called for the maid, and I didn’t want anyone to know about my bodice or how important it was. I didn’t like the idea of leaving them behind, especially after this letter’s reminder that my relics were integral to The Devouring’s plans.

Frozen with indecision, I stood there, wavering, when a knock came. “Miss Ravenwood. It is eleven.”

With a grumble, I stuffed the bodice and the letter back inside the vase for safekeeping, trusting that Yves’s castle was well guarded.

When I reached the door that led out to the terrace, a servant held it open for me and announced, “Miss Cora Ravenwood, Lady Companion to the Valemer Household.”

I gave him a tight grin and strode forward with my chin up. The veranda had been draped in sheer white gossamer curtains, framing a charming table set with the most wondrous high tea I’d ever seen.

Porcelain cups painted with tiny ships stood beside folded linen napkins, while a silver tray held the teapot, cream jug, and sugar bowl. Platters of apricot tartlets, little almond cakes, and sliced brioche crowded the embroidered tablecloth, with jewel-colored preserves nestled between them.

So this was how the rich ladies of court spent their time. It was grand and lovely, but I still preferred a stillroom and the company of my raven.

I surveyed the table, with its shiny silver, and the arms and necks of Lady Christine and her guests, and applauded my decision to leave Della behind. Della would’ve left with a new trinket, and the last thing I wanted was to heap more unwanted attention my way. By the way everyone was looking at me, I could tell there was far too much of it on me already.

Ladies from both Yves and Renaud’s courts were in attendance, a fact I hadn’t been anticipating. “Good afternoon,” I said as sweetly as I could.

“Miss Ravenwood,” Lady Christine said. “Please, join us.”

I recognized Rochefort’s paramour from their arrival. She wore pale blue and gold, with delicate embroidery around the low neckline. I noticed an amethyst brooch pinned just above her heart.

Gran taught me that amethyst guarded the mind against outside influence, which made the gem an interesting choice, considering the color clashed with her outfit.