If etherea, the natural element that allowed magic to occur, had powered the tables, why hadn’t she been able to touch it with her brooch? Could it be isolated, contained so it did not spread out into the environment?

Without her brooch, she could not test it. Etherea was invisible, inaudible, without odor or taste. Perhaps those in the past who were more magically gifted, such as Great Mages, could sense etherea, but there had been no one that strong for centuries, probably not since the Long War.

“Silk is showing off his wealth and power by using etherea frivolously,” Cade muttered. “As if the rest of this is not enough.” He gestured to take in the whole of the big top.

The wonder of the tables appeared to wear off among the guests as servants brought out steaming platters, but Karigan thought she heard their table chuff. Maybe she was hearing things, but the sound, subtle as it was, seemed to come from beneath the table, and it hadn’t sounded mechanical. The table then quivered, causing water, jellies, and sauces to ripple, and dinnerware to clatter. The other guests chattered on as if nothing was amiss, but Karigan couldn’t help but glance under the table again. She didn’t see anything she hadn’t seen before. Was it . . . alive? Surely not. It did not move again or make any noises.

A string quartet started playing, not quite filling the void of sound left behind by the music steamer, but far more pleasant. Still, the whiney sawing of the strings grated on her nerves.

The chair to her left remained unoccupied, even as the first course, bowls of clawfish bisque, were placed before the guests. She wondered how she was supposed to eat it from beneath her veil. She’d never eaten while veiled in the professor’s house. The women of the Capital with their stylishly short veils had no problem, but the women of Mill City only seemed to pretend to eat, dipping their spoons into the bisque, stirring it a little, but never attempting to bring it under their veils to their lips.

It smelled wonderful, and Cade slurped his beside her. Karigan considered trying to actually eat some. If she broke some code of acceptable behavior, the proper people could always put it down to her not knowing better after her stint in the asylum. But she did not wish to draw attention to herself. She sighed, dipped her spoon, and stirred.

Shortly after the servants collected the bisque bowls, Dr. Silk reappeared and seated himself beside her. She frowned and sensed Cade straightening in his chair. A quick glance revealed a tightening of his features. Even the table creaked subtly as though its wood was contracting.

“Seems I missed the opening course,” Dr. Silk said cheerfully. He snapped out a napkin and let it float to his lap. “How was it?”

Karigan wished she knew. But as it turned out, she didn’t have to supply an answer. A man with a gold-rimmed monocle across the table said, “Delicious bisque. Positively delightful.”

The servants brought out a meat course next. The men sawed into the beef and conversed gregariously. The short-veiled women were more delicate, cutting tiny pieces to eat, chatting animatedly with their neighbors. The long-veiled women cut dainty pieces, too, and arranged them around their plates, but none of it made it beneath their veils to their mouths.

Of all the idiotic things, Karigan fumed, her stomach growling at all the tantalizing scents. She was going to have to ask for something from the kitchen when she got home, and when she did, there wouldn’t be any of this useless picking.

She tried listening to the conversations going on around her, but they were unrevealing unless she wanted to know about a dear uncle’s gout or the “tiresome habits” of servants. The wise, she guessed, did not discuss sabotage and the rounding up of a hundred men for questioning at a dinner party hosted by one of the very Preferred of the emperor, especially when he was within earshot.

“I trust you are finding the evening entertaining?” Dr. Silk asked.

“Um, yes,” she said quickly to cover the rumble of her belly.

Dr. Silk smiled and focused on his meal. Sitting beside him, she could study his profile. She could almost see behind the lenses of his specs, and she tried to, surreptitiously, without seeming to stare. She could not see his eyes, but his eyelashes were white.

Odd, she thought. There might be silver and gray in his hair but no white.

He caught her gazing at him, and she turned away, pretending to eat.

“Tell me, Miss Goodgrave, what do you do to amuse yourself in your uncle’s house?” he asked.

Another seemingly innocuous question. Was he testing her again? “Oh, the usual things,” she replied airily. “I’ve been given a few books to read, and I visit Raven.”

“Ah, that troublesome horse, but I am actually grateful to him since it was he who allowed us to meet. Very fortuitous, don’t you think? How else do you use your time?”

Karigan stared at the untouched meat on her plate. “The use of my time would not interest a gentleman.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Everything about you interests me, my dear.”

Was it politeness, or too intense a regard? She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Cade’s expression had gone all stony again. Dr. Silk appeared older than her father. She had to remind herself that he was not so much expressing admiration for her as digging for information.

“Tell me—” he began, but he was interrupted by a man on his other side. He made a barely perceptible noise of annoyance but turned to the man and engaged in conversation. Karigan nearly wilted in relief to have his attention directed elsewhere.