I am worried bordering on terrified of this evening—so much so that were it not for Ma’ati’s excitement over dressing me I might have called the whole thing off. She even talked Jacky Boy out of needing me in the kitchens tonight.

“Wait!” Ma’ati runs out of my room and comes back with a small bronze jar in her hand. “Please don’t tell, but one of the guests left this lip rouge in her room, and she never asked for it back.” She dips her finger in and pulls it out, tracing my lips as carefully as an artist.

“Oh,” she says, her voice like a sigh. “You look like the queen.”

“The queen is eighty years old.”

Ma’ati swats my shoulder. “You know what I mean. Like a queen ought to look.”

“How do you know how to do this? The corsets and the hair and the stockings. I’d have been lost without you.” My regular dresses are sturdy and plain—buying the student uniform cost all my savings, so that’s all I wear. And my hair is a mystery even to myself, but Ma’ati’s deft fingers twisted and pulled it into something of a miracle.

“I used to be a lady’s maid.”

“How did she ever let you go?” A lady’s maid would have been a much higher position than head maid of even a fine hotel.

Ma’ati smiles with one side of her mouth, but there is no happiness there. “The lady’s gentleman became too fond of me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to me now. I came here and found Jacky Boy, and he’s better than all the fine manors in the country. Now then, a mirror.”

I pull on the shiny, black, elbow-length gloves, admiring how such a simple thing can transform plain scholar’s hands into mysterious things of beauty.

“Jessamin, there’s—” Jacky Boy stops midsentence, staring at me from the open doorway. I am instantly aflame with embarrassment.

“Yes?”

“Your friend. Kelen? He’s downstairs in the kitchen with a delivery. Wanted to see you.”

I take a step toward the door and then pause. I look ridiculous. How will I explain any of this to Kelen? Oh, yes, a strange and infuriating person I barely know sent me the dress so I can go to a grand gala! Isn’t it nice? Kelen has even more reason to hate Albens than I do. I couldn’t bear the derision I know I’d see on his face.

Why did he have to show up now? Any other time I would have been thrilled to see him. Now I feel like a traitor. Maybe I am a traitor. I ought to take off all this nonsense and go see him.

But tonight, for once, I don’t feel like remembering the island we can’t have. I want to have a night here, now, rather than wallowing in what I left behind.

“Will you—will you tell him I’m not here?”

Jacky Boy nods. I expect him to look disappointed in me, but he seems almost relieved at the deception. He leaves and I follow Ma’ati out into the hall. We nearly bump into Simon, the tiny and perpetually terrified bellhop.

“Miss Jessamin! Outside, for you, there’s—” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “There’s a motor. Outside. For you.”

“No,” Ma’ati whispers, her eyes wide with wonder.

“But I—he said nothing about—I was going to hail a cabbie.” It’s no difficult task to find a horse carriage circling the city for hire, though tonight would have been my first ride. “Is there a man in the car?” My chest should not be so tight at the thought of seeing Finn again. I blame the corset.

“No, no one but the driver, who said he was to pick you up at eight o’clock on the dot. And the motor—oh, it’s a wicked sharp-looking thing, no mistake, and the way it rumbles like a miniature train! Can I stand long enough to see you drive away? Please?”

I laugh, unsure how to feel. A motor! “I insist on you seeing me off. You, too, Ma’ati. You must both do it to reassure me I haven’t gone mad.”

We hurry down the servant stairs, past two maids, who give me looks of wonder mixed with scorn, then go out the side exit around to the front of the hotel. I’m afraid we’ll run into Kelen and my lie will be revealed, but to my relief he’s nowhere to be seen.

Simon spoke the truth: there is a motor in front of the hotel. I beam at Ma’ati. I have no idea what to expect from this night, but if it starts out like this it cannot be all bad. “Wish me luck.”

“How can I wish you any more than you already have!”

I walk with as much grace as I can manage, hoping to mask the fact that I want nothing more than to jump up and down and run my gloved fingers down the length of the motor.

“Milady.” A man in a black suit and bowler hat bows and opens a door for me.

“Thank you.” I climb in, careful of my stockings, and sit on the leather seat. Turning to the pane of glass closing off the tiny cabin, I wave at Ma’ati and Simon, and then, feeling foolish for all my borrowed finery, I stick my tongue out at both of them.

A bird hops up onto the runner. I laugh, noticing the missing claw. It’s my bird. “Well,” I say as it fixes a beady yellow eye on me, “you came to see me off, too?”

The motor starts and my bird flaps away, its noisy calls drowned out by the engine. I settle back to watch the city pass by. Something about viewing it through glass makes everything shine more—the lights reflected and glimmering in the droplets of water clinging to the panes.

I feel a sickening mix of fear and excitement. Any time I think I know what I want from this evening it all slips away from me. Do I want Finn to court me? Am I agreeing to such by accepting his gifts and attending? Should I have returned them immediately? But I cannot deny the thrill that runs through me when I anticipate seeing him again.