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Rye is waiting outside her room. He takes her arm with a strained smile.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“There were some whispers in the kitchen,” he says, his eyes flashing to me for half a second. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Something’s happened, I don’t know what. Everyone stopped talking when I came in.”

“Something happened with my aunt?” Carnelian asks.

Something happened with my sister? I want to demand.

Rye shrugs. “I’m not sure.” Then his whole demeanor shifts, like a light being turned on. “Are you excited to attend your first Auction?”

They chat as we walk to the foyer. I trail behind them, heart hammering, and when I see the Duchess’s gleeful face, it pounds even faster. Anything that makes her look this happy can’t be good.

Whatever it is, Hazel appears to be safe for the time being. The Duchess has her on the leash, but she’s dressed in an extravagant gown, blue and silver silk stitched with pearls and sapphires. Her face is veiled and there is a delicate crown on her head, strands of gold woven with diamonds. Her purple eyes meet mine and the look in them is fierce. She knows what this day means, even if she isn’t aware of the plot for her murder.

We take two motorcars to the Auction House. Ours is thick with tension. Garnet is in his Regimental uniform, and his leg won’t stop jiggling. Rye’s posture is a bit too forced to look casual. I stare out the window at the palaces flashing by, my mouth so dry it’s uncomfortable to swallow. I wish I knew why the servants were worried, why the Duchess looked so excited. But I have to stay focused. I have to get to the train station underground. I waited all night for the arcana to buzz, to hear Raven’s voice, or Sil’s, or Lucien’s. But it stayed frustratingly silent.

When we arrive at the Auction House, there is a small platform set up on the lawn in front of it with a smooth block of marble in its center, inlaid with gold and rubies. I don’t know what that’s for. Rye and Carnelian seem confused by it, and Garnet looks perplexed as well. Perplexed and . . . frightened?

The crowd is tense, none of the cheerful laughter and conversation I was expecting. The royals huddle together on the sprawling grass that surrounds the pink domed building, muttering urgently to one another. As we get out of the car, I catch snippets of what they’re saying.

“Never could have imagined it . . .”

“I’m having my lady-in-waiting interrogated the second I get home.”

“And he was so helpful in securing me an invitation to the Longest Night Ball last year!”

My pounding heart jumps to my throat and stays there, choking me. A feeling of dread creeps up my spine. Something is very wrong.

We make our way through the crowd and the royals fall silent at our approach, bowing and curtsying to the Duchess as she passes. When we are only a few yards from the marble block, the Countess of the Rose swoops over.

“Did you hear?” she says, fanning herself with a pink feathered fan. “They found him. The leader of that horrid Black Key society.”

The second before she says the name stretches out to eternity. I wait in it, unable to blink or breathe, my body a living vessel of terror.

“It’s Lucien,” the Countess of the Rose says.

The ground shifts beneath my feet. I think I might be falling. A strong hand reaches out to steady me. It’s Garnet.

His face is barely masking his fear and I realize we’ve got to do better. My world may have stopped turning in this moment, but there are so many worlds to consider on this day. We have to be strong. We have to be brave.

I’ve almost convinced myself I can do it. Until the executioner walks up the steps to the platform. He wears a black mask and carries a silver ax slung in his belt. I can’t take my eyes off it, its sharp edge catching the light. My mind can’t wrap my head around its purpose.

“Lucien?” the Duchess is asking incredulously. “I heard they caught the leader but . . . Lucien? He always seemed so . . .”

“Obedient?” The Countess of the Stone looms over the Duchess, her large breasts spilling out of her bronze-colored dress. “It’s always the ones you trust the most, isn’t it?”

“How did they know?” the Duchess asks.

“Apparently he wanted to leave his mark in the Royal Palace itself. Smashed all the mirrors in the Room of Reflection with imprints of that key.”

The keys. My keys. Lucien must have taken the blame when they were discovered.

I thought the world stopped spinning when I heard Lucien had been caught.

It is nothing compared to knowing that he was caught because of me. The Auction House swims in my vision. My lungs have shrunk to half their normal size. I can’t get enough air.

My fault, my fault, my fault . . .