There’s a raucous game of croquet happening off to my left, but that’s not where Lydia would be, so I go right, where it’s darker and quieter. “Lydia?” I call. There is no answer but the rustle of windthrough the fruit trees and the hedges trimmed to look like zoo animals.
“Lydia?”
“Lady Ivy, is that you?” a male voice answers.
“Emmett?”
I see him now, moving toward me in the shadows, haloed in moonlight.
“I was looking for my sister,” I say.
“And I was looking for you.”
“Oh?”
“Come quick.” He reaches down as if to grab my hand, but thinks better of it and shoves his hand in his pocket.
He’s wearing an open doublet, with a costume crown slightly askew on his dark waves. Both our masks were discarded hours ago.
I gesture to his outfit. “What are you supposed to be?”
“A prince.” He looks over his shoulder and flashes me an infuriating half smile.
“That doesn’t count—you’re already a prince.”
“I’m one from”—he gestures his hands vaguely—“The days of yore, or something.”
“This is the laziest costume I’ve ever seen.”
He clutches his heart in mock distress. “You wound me, Lady Ivy. We can’t all be lucky to have costumes as impressive as yours.”
“Are you impressed?”
His eyes rake down my body, then back up again to my face. I shiver, as if he’s just touched me. “You look like a fallen star.” There is no hint of laughter in his words now.
We come to a garden gate at the back of the house, where the noise from the party is dampened. It’s partially hidden by overgrownrosebushes and shadowed by a willow tree.
He reaches around me to pull the gate open, then gestures for me to go on without him. “Bram is waiting for you.”
I told him I needed more time alone with his brother. “I’m glad to hear you can take direction,” I reply, but it comes out strangely choked.
“You know me,” he replies, face stony. “So obedient.”
I do want to win. I want to help Emmett and the rebellion and my family. Time with Bram will help me win. So why does it feel like I’m losing?
I step through the gate, and Emmett disappears into the darkness. I don’t have it in me to watch him as he goes.
Bram is waiting for me in the center of the hidden garden under the weatherworn statue of a trumpeting angel.
“Lady Ivy.” His face lights up as I approach. “A sight for sore eyes.”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect. My brother led me here and told me to wait for a surprise. I must admit I was a little nervous, given the venue, but you’re better than anything I could have hoped for.”
I’m confused, but then he gestures to the patch of earth closest to us, and I see the fine mist net over the plant and the little stake in the ground that readsfoxglove, next to it,monkshood, and behind it,laburnum.
“He left you in a poison garden?” I ask.
