Tips’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “Only one who could manage it,” he said. “And that’s your sister.”

“Half-sister,” I muttered, “But yes. Lessa. She’s powerful enough, and she lived in the same household as Anaïs for all of her life until Cécile tricked Damia into giving her to my father. And no one notices the presence or absence of a half-blood servant, no matter how powerful. Add in her ability to lie, and she’s the perfect person to take over Anaïs’s life. So perfect, it almost seems planned.” A sick feeling rose in my stomach the moment the words came out. “He knows.”

“What? Who?”

“My father,” I said, my voice every bit as grim as I felt. “He knows you can lie. Your secret isn’t a secret, at least not from him. I’d bet my life on it.”

Tips blanched. “That can’t be possible. He’d never stand for it if he knew. Your father already hates us – if he’d found out half-bloods could lie, we’d all be dead by now.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” I said absently, staring at the wall behind Tips. “Hate is something he reserves for those with whom he has personal grievances. And he’d never act so impulsively if he thought he could put the information to use.” A plan was beginning to form in my head. It was risky and rash, nothing I would ever have tried in the past, but it might just work.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Tips muttered.

“Think of it this way,” I said. “He knows you can lie to him, but you don’t know that he knows. Not only can he use it against you, he can use you against his enemies by taking advantage of the fact that they don’t know either.”

Tips raised both eyebrows, giving me a dour look. “This is why I hate dealing with the aristocracy – you’re all mad.”

I grinned. “It’s brilliant.”

“Right.”

I leaned forward. “Have you told anyone I caught you out?”

Tips winced. “Not yet. Haven’t found the courage to tell them I slipped up.”

“Excellent.” I would’ve clapped my hands together if they didn’t hurt so much. “I’ve an idea. It’s more than a bit mad, and if it goes poorly, we might both lose our heads. But I think it’ll work.”

“And I must be mad to listen to you, but I’m going to anyway.” Tips leaned on the table, his eyes bright. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

Twenty-One

Cécile

My mother wandered past me to look out the window, leaving a cloud of perfume in her wake. “You will stay in tonight, I trust,” she said, letting the drapes fall back into place.

“I will,” I said. “I think a cup of tea and a book are what I need.” I coughed quietly. “My throat has been a bit sore, and I don’t care to overdo it.”

She frowned at me. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something – you’ve seen how much work the Regent’s masque will be.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I glanced at the clock. I’d told Chris to come to the back door at seven, but hopefully he’d be wise enough to ensure my mother was actually gone before he knocked. “Where did you say you were going?” I asked, looking blindly at the book in my lap.

“The Marquis is accompanying me to the palace for my performance. After that, we’ll have to see. It seems anyone who is anyone is having a party tonight.”

“Seems like poor planning on their parts,” I muttered. I really didn’t care about my mother’s social schedule – what I cared about was her leaving so I’d have the privacy to try this spell.

A knock sounded at the door. “That will be my carriage.” She picked up her thick velvet cloak. “I hope you enjoy your rest, darling. I will be late, if I’m home at all.” Bending down she kissed my forehead, then stroked my cheek. “There is no one more important to me than you, Cécile. I hope you know that.”

My traitorous heart warmed, then I squashed the feeling away, reminding myself that the last time she’d expressed herself this way, she’d been in the process of drugging me. “Good luck tonight, mother.”

I waited until I was certain she was gone, then I threw off the robe covering my dress and hurried to the back door. Chris was waiting, a roll of parchment in one hand and a caged chicken in the other. “She’s gone?” he asked.

I nodded. “Come in before the neighbors see you.”

Once he was inside, we set to hurrying about the house closing all the curtains. I was taking no chances that someone might see us – at best, I’d be exiled from the city. And at worst… the smoke coming from the fireplace took on an ominous feel.

“Where do you want to do this?” Chris asked, holding up the cage and eyeing the chicken. “It will be messy.”

I grimaced. “The kitchen would be the best, I suppose.”

Following my terse instructions, we set up all of my supplies on the kitchen floor, along with a bucket and rags to clean up what would be a large amount of blood. I took the map Chris had brought and laid it out flat, then carefully began committing it to memory as well as I could.

“What are you doing?” Chris whispered.

“The map needs to be reflected in my mind’s eye,” I said. “Otherwise this won’t work.”

Catherine had devised the spell I intended to use to find missing loved ones. It was a noble cause, unlike my own, but cause meant little when it came to the effectiveness of the spell. All I really needed was a possession belonging to the missing, in this case, Anushka’s grimoire, a map, and the raw power of a death. So little, and yet, so much.