I nodded. “Chris and I had a little adventure. I’ll tell you about it after.”

“Bad?”

I gave her a grim nod. We were practiced in speaking in code when we weren’t alone, but this conversation needed to wait.

I shifted on the velvet banquette, pulling off my shoes and tucking my feet underneath me. I needed to change the subject before anyone took note of our conversation. “Does anyone know what this is about?”

“I do,” Julian said from where he sat perched on his own cushion. He looked as fresh as someone who has had a night of uninterrupted sleep, although from what Sabine had been saying, he hadn’t gotten any more than I had.

“Do you intend to share what you know with us?” I asked.

He shook his head and grinned. “It’s Genny’s news to tell.”

I winced inwardly at his familiarity, remembering all too clearly how she had rejected my father’s use of the very same nickname. They were very close, Julian and my mother. Uncomfortably so, at times.

She had “discovered” him years ago, an orphan singing on the street corner for coin, and had taken him under her wing. Then she’d made him a star. Unbeknownst to me, or to any of my family other than Fred, he had been living with her for the past four years. He’d been ousted the day I arrived in Trianon because it would have been improper for us to live under the same roof, and anyone with two wits to rub together knew that he resented me for it.

I glanced around the room to see who’d been invited. It was all the principal members of the company, plus a few from costuming and set design. A select group, which indicated we’d be performing outside of the theatre. “A private performance for some nobleman?” I asked, hoping to take the wind out of Julian’s sails if I guessed correctly.

His grin widened, white teeth gleaming. “Better.”

I slouched down. Whatever. It didn’t matter what or for whom. Adding another performance meant more rehearsals, and I didn’t have time for that. I needed to be out looking for Anushka. The need to be out on the streets doing something was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

But my mother had set conditions when I’d come to Trianon, and the primary one was that I perform often and that I perform well. Failure would see me evicted from her house before I could blink, and I had no other skills for supporting myself in Trianon. Even if I did, none of them would give me the sort of access to all the levels of society that singing did, which meant that I had no choice but to indulge my mother’s wishes.

I closed my eyes, feeling the pressure of the promise I’d made to the King. It wasn’t anything like a promise made to another human. I had barely gone a moment without thinking about how badly I needed to find her. My hunt had monopolized my thoughts since I’d left Trollus, but now it was much worse. Obsessive. I needed to find her, but the question was how? I had already done everything I could think of to find her – short of walking through the streets, screaming her name, and hoping she might deign to show herself.

And I hadn’t the slightest idea how to use magic to improve my chances. None of the spells in the grimoire mentioned anything about how to find someone, and it was my only resource. I needed a teacher, and not just anyone would do. I needed someone who understood the dark arts.

The room went quiet, and I opened my eyes to see my mother swaying across the floor. She settled down on a banquette in the middle of the circle, always the star of the show.

“Thank you all for coming,” my mother said, pausing to blow steam off the cup Julian had handed her. “I have very exciting news that I’m finally able to share.” She paused again for effect. “I am so pleased to announce that the Regent’s wife, Lady Marie du Chastelier, has commissioned our company to stage and perform a masque for her annual winter solstice party.”

Most of the company exchanged confused glances, but history of the arts had been one of the things I’d studied in Trollus. I cleared my throat. “Haven’t masques been out of fashion for, I don’t know, two hundred years?”

My mother raised one tawny eyebrow. “What is old is new again, dearest.”

There was nothing she hated more than having her ideas contested. She always had to have her way.

“What’s a masque?” Sabine asked.

“It’s a performance,” Julian interjected, “in which all the important ladies of the court will be a part. Lady Marie intends to spare no expense.” Rising to his feet, he retrieved sheets of paper and distributed them to the group. “I will be playing the devil,” he said, handing me a page. “Genny will play Vice and Cécile will play Virtue.”

I scanned the pages, my interest in the idea briefly pushing away Thibault’s compulsion. But only for a moment. The lively murmurs of the group buzzed like a hive of bees, but I didn’t join in. All I could think about was how I didn’t have time for this. I rubbed my temples with my fingers, but nothing seemed to reduce the tension in my skull.

“Attention, attention!” my mother trilled. “I also have one more announcement to make.”

Conversation ceased and heads swiveled back around, everyone curious about what else Genevieve might have up her sleeve. Even once she had our attention, she took her time, slowly smoothing the lace overlay of her dress while she fed off our anticipation. “This is bittersweet,” she finally whispered.

The whole company leaned forward.

“I…” She hesitated, the corners of her mouth tipping slightly downwards. “I’ve decided that the Regent’s court masque will be my final performance.”