wildflowers engulfed the refreshment tables. The enchanted scene was filled with people dressed in silk and fur and diamonds, laughing in amazement as leaves drifted down from the chandeliers.
But no amount of beauty could overcome the fact that somewhere within this grandeur, Ashcroft awaited them.
“Would you care for a drink, miss?”
Even before Elisabeth turned, she knew whom she would find standing beside her. Still, she almost started in surprise when she laid eyes on Silas: blond and brown-eyed, dressed in palace livery, holding a tray of champagne flutes. He looked thoroughly, resignedly human. She and Nathaniel made a show of selecting their glasses in order to buy themselves a few seconds.
“Thank you for doing this,” Elisabeth whispered.
Silas sighed. “I assure you, I would not have agreed to the plan had this indignity been part of your original proposal. The livery is ill-fitting, and I would not wish to serve this detestable vintage even to a commoner. No offense intended, Miss Scrivener.”
Elisabeth coughed, hiding a laugh. “None taken.”
Demons weren’t permitted inside the palace, but Nathaniel had been able to sneak Silas in that afternoon, illusion and all, when he’d arrived to enchant the ballroom. Silas had been keeping an eye on things ever since.
“Chancellor Ashcroft is on the other side of the room,” he went on, “speaking to Lady Ingram. I believe he’s preparing to make his way over. I will remain close.” With that, he gave them a brief nod and blended back into the crowd.
Elisabeth’s stomach twisted. She craned her neck, straining for any hint of Ashcroft, but even though her height allowed her to see far across the ballroom, there were too many guests blocking her view.
Nathaniel caught her hand. “This way. I’ve spotted a likely crowd. Prince Leopold is a sensitive type—he’s bound to be sympathetic to what we have to say.”
Her thoughts stuttered at the unexpected sensation of his fingers twining with hers. She forced herself to focus. He was pulling her toward a group of people that included Lord Kicklighter, all of them bowing and scraping to a young man in a red military uniform.
“Is that him? The prince?”
Nathaniel nodded. “If you can believe it, I used to fancy him. Then he went and grew that mustache. Or he murdered a gerbil and attached it to his face. For the life of me, I can’t tell which.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “I didn’t realize—then do you mean—”
“I like girls too, Scrivener.” Amusement danced in Nathaniel’s eyes. “I like both. If you’re going to fantasize about my love life, I insist you do so accurately.”
She frowned. “I am not fantasizing about your love life.”
“Strange. This is unfamiliar territory. Young women are usually more than happy to devote a sizable portion of their brains to the task of contemplating my splendor.”
“What about the ones who throw champagne in your face?”
“That only happened once, thank you very much, and there were extenuating—” Suddenly, his cheer vanished. “Never mind. Here he comes. Remember what we practiced.”
“Nathaniel,” Ashcroft said behind them. “Miss Scrivener. How excellent it is to see you.”
His voice slid down Elisabeth’s spine like a trickle of cold sweat. She braced herself, and turned. As soon as she met his eyes, the misery of her days in Ashcroft Manor came crashing back down on her in force. Her mouth went dry, and her hands shook. She had forgotten how handsome he was up close—how closely he resembled a storybook hero, with that golden hair and charming smile. Lady Ingram stood beside him, clearly wishing to get to the bottom of Elisabeth’s reappearance as soon as possible. For a moment it was as though Elisabeth were back there, trapped with no possibility of escape.
A space discreetly formed in the crowd. The other guests carried on their own conversations, but Elisabeth felt the weight of their attention. For all that they appeared occupied, they were hanging on every word.
“We were all so worried when you disappeared from Leadgate Hospital,” Ashcroft said. His eyes crinkled with concern—the same concern that had fooled her just weeks ago. “We feared you had been lost on the streets. Some areas of the city can be terribly dangerous for a young woman on her own.”
“You’re right,” Nathaniel said. His gray eyes assessed Ashcroft’s pearl-colored suit, and paused to take in his walking stick, which had the same gryphon’s head handle from the Observatory. “She was in danger,” he went on, his scornful gaze flicking back to Ashcroft’s face. “But as it turns out, the