Page 69 of The Black Key

“Yes,” I say. “But I serve Carnelian now.”

“Such a shame,” he says with a sigh, then directs his attention back to Cora. “Your House has been hit hard these past few weeks. Turning the Auction into an engagement party was a brilliant idea of the Exetor’s. Just the thing this circle needs to lift its spirits.”

“I’m surprised the Duchess brought her surrogate here at all,” the gray-haired lady-in-waiting says, coming to join us with a plate of cheese and fruit. “Isn’t she worried about the Electress?”

“Come now, Eloise,” Olivier says. “The Electress would never attempt to harm the surrogate in her own house.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” a thin, dry voice says from the doorway.

I know him, even without ever really having seen him before. Raven told me all about Frederic—his voice, his bloody gums, his beady eyes, his beaked nose. He glides into the room, plucking a grape off a bunch in a silver bowl.

“Eloise. Olivier.” He acknowledges them with a nod.

“Glad to see you’re up and about,” Cora says dryly. “We missed you at Garnet’s party.”

“I was sorry not to be there,” Frederic says with a distinct lack of sincerity. “Though I do like my soirees to come with a little less violence.”

“Really,” Cora shoots back. “I was under the impression it was quite the opposite.”

Eloise and Olivier look uncomfortable. But Frederic merely smiles at her, and I see them, the bloodred gums Raven told me about. It is a hideous smile, one that clearly wishes the receiver harm. Frederic pops the grape into his mouth and chews it slowly.

“Will the Countess be buying another surrogate this year?” Olivier says in a blatant attempt to diffuse the tension.

“Of course,” Frederic says. “Such a shame about the last one. It was truly . . . unique.”

Raven told me they used to call her “it.” Knowing it is one thing, but hearing him say it out loud . . . I ball my hands into fists, the desire to join with Air and throw him across the room potent inside me.

“Ah, good, you are all here.”

I turn and see Lucien. “Welcome, my friends. Another year, another Auction. Though this year seems to be shaping up a little differently than the previous ones.”

In more ways than one, I think, and his gaze lands on me for half a second, but in that time, I know his thoughts are in line with mine.

“Indeed,” Olivier agrees, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “An engagement party and an Auction? The entire Jewel attending?”

“No doubt the Duchess will be thrilled by the attention,” Frederic says.

“And the Countess is known for her humility?” Cora retorts.

“We must be in top form,” Lucien says, ignoring the snipes between the two. “And keep close eyes on your mistresses. With all the violence and the distress in the lower circles, we must be on high alert.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was sincerely concerned with the well-being of the royal women. He snaps a finger at me.

“You,” he says. “Carnelian requires you. Come with me.”

My heart in my throat, I follow him out the door. I expect him to lead me far from the room with the other ladies-in-waiting, or maybe back to his secret workshop, but instead he takes me only one room over.

“Do you know how to get to this room from the front doors?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, surprised. “It’s just down the hall to the left, right?”

“Correct.” The room is a small antechamber, nothing in it except for a round, blue rug and a painting of a white fluffy dog sitting on a plush stool. Lucien pulls back the painting to reveal a hole in the wall, large enough for me to climb through. I can see stone stairs on the opposite side.

“This will take you to my room,” he says. “I left markings for you to follow. I wanted to make sure you could find it. If . . . if the time comes.”

My chest is tight. Lucien replaces the painting so nothing looks out of place.

“This is it,” I say.