“I don’t know... this time you might like it.” I kissed him again, and he had no more complaints about the weather.

Later, he held me against his side as we nestled together on a wicker lounger tucked in a corner, far away from the rain. “What was your plan tonight?” he asked. “You don’t get dressed up to go to balls just for the fun of it. I’m guessing it has something to do with the Marenatos.”

I huffed. He seemed to be always one step ahead of me. “How do you know about them?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”

“I was hoping to, uh, bump into their Magician. Or his apprentice.”

“Bartolomeo DeLaguna? Or... Taviano, right? Taviano Pesce.”

I huffed again. “If you already know everything, why are you asking me questions?”

“What were you going to do when you found him?”

I fingered the gold strand around my neck. “We have a Magician now. Her name is Brigette. She worked a spell on this necklace, which is supposed to make people be truthful when they talk to me.”

“I saw you had picked up another stray.”

“She’s a lot more than that.” I explained the difficulties of her relationship with Magic and pain. “She’s controlling it for now, but she hasn’t had to work any major Magic yet. I’m afraid of what it’ll do to her if she does.”

“But she’s powerful?”

I nodded. “I really think she is. I think we were brought together for a reason. With the help of this necklace, I was hoping, maybe, to get DeLaguna or Taviano to tell me where they’re keeping Jackie and anything else that might be useful.”

“Then I guess I should stop distracting you.” He exhaled loudly and stood, tugging me to my feet. “Time for you to get back to work.” His grip on my hand tightened. “But please, be careful. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

I threaded my fingers through his. “Are you going to keep hiding from me?”

His dim figure ducked its head. “I’ll be watching. And I’ll find you later tonight. I promise.”

He escorted me to the door and faded into the shadows.

In the ballroom, the masquerade raged on. During my absence, many had overindulged. With their inhibitions lowered, the fine lords and ladies of Isolas had surrendered to their baser impulses. They’d given up formal dancing, and bodies writhed together, lips and fingers touching, stroking, sampling. The masks stayed on, though—that one rule remained strictly enforced. Most likely, the masks played a bigger part in the partiers’ brazen behavior than the intoxicants they’d consumed—anonymity was an alluring thing. I squashed down my dread and discomfort, adjusted my mask, and tried my best to look like I wanted to be there rather than relaxing in my room, wearing my nightgown, and tucked under the bed quilts while sipping a cup of tea.

Maybe snuggling with Gideon, too, if I were lucky.

I scanned the room, seeking DeLaguna’s horned mask, and spotted a group of young people clustered in a corner, far away from the dance floor. They exuded an air of boredom and, perhaps, embarrassment, considering many of the adults misbehaving on the dance floor were likely their parents. One young man stood out from the rest, his shock of white-blond hair fluttering around his head like clouds on a breezy day. His black mask covered his face from chin to hairline. Only two round eyeholes interrupted the smooth, featureless visage. No mouth, no nose, only a swirl of silver geometric patterns danced across his black forehead and cheeks.

I eased closer and the mask’s detailed sharpened. Seashells—starfish, scallops, seahorses, conchs—undulated and swirled, animated by Magic.

Ah, said Grandfather. You’ve found Taviano. Now what do you do with him?

Dazzle him with my feminine wiles, I guess.

Taviano had noted my interest, saving me from having to invent a reason to introduce myself. He raised his voice over the orchestra’s music. “Signora Pavone.” Lady Peacock. He bowed.

“Signore Magia.” I curtsied.

“Noi a conosciamo?”

“Susca no parlo Vinitziano.” I don’t speak Vinitzian.

“Is this better?” he asked, switching to Dreutish.

I batted my lashes. “How did you know?”

“Your accent.” He twiddled his fingers, waving aside my question. “You seemed to recognize me, but I am afraid I cannot say the same about you. Perhaps your disguise is too clever, Lady Peacock. I was asking if we know each other.”

“We don’t, Signor Pesce, but I think we have a mutual friend.”

“Oh?”

“Someone who went to university with you in Pecia.”

“My curiosity is piqued.”

“Piqued enough to join me for a dance?”

He glanced at the dance floor. Although his mask hid his expression, he exuded reluctance. “I’d... rather not.”

My plan for interrogation had hinged on luring him to the dance floor, but his refusal foiled me. Mind spinning, I searched for something clever to say.

He studied me, eyes scraping over me from head to toe, lingering on my lips, which still felt raw and bruised from kissing Gideon. “This masquerade is not our idea of a real party.” He motioned to the group of young people surrounding him. “We were about to leave. There is another affair on the other side of the city.” His attention flashed again to the crowd behind me. “It should be less...” Repugnance soured his tone. “Disconcerting.”

“You mean a party with no drunken adults forgetting how to behave in public?”

“Precisely.” He peered down his nonexistent nose. “Join us, Lady Peacock?”

Flaring my skirt, I curtsied. “I’d be honored.”

He raised a finger. “But first you must pay the price of admission.”

I’d a stashed a few coins in my pocket. Not much money, but probably more than enough to buy my way into an exclusive party, even one for Isolas’s spoiled upper-class youth. “How much?”

“I want the name of our common acquaintance.”

I bit my lip, considering. What were the possible consequences of revealing that tidbit? Would it somehow endanger Brigette or our mission? I needed to get close to Taviano. I needed more time to ask him questions, and this party would be my best, and maybe my only, opportunity to do that. Besides, parties had a way of getting people to lower their guards. So did wearing masks. So did Brigette’s Magic charm around my neck.

“Her name is Brigette,” I said. “Do you know her?”

He rocked back on his heels as if my answer had struck him. He huffed a sharp breath. “Brigette Fontaine?”

Realizing I had never heard Brigette’s surname, I shrugged.

“Of course I know her.” His nose wrinkled. “She’s impossible to forget.” He paused, head cocked at a curious angle. “What is your relationship with her? You are not a Magician, though there is certainly something... enchanting about you.”

“No, not a Magician. I’m merely a patron of the Magical arts.”