The only things a woman needs to take over the world are a twirly dress, great heels, and the right shade of lipstick. I walked down those stairs feeling like a million bucks and acting like I owned the place—which was really bold of me if you think about it.

I had not one but three Oliversens in the house, and, presumably, they would also be wearing dresses and heels. And they would’ve had a lot more practice walking in them.

But if confidence was smart, it wouldn’t be confidence.

Jacky had barely come down himself, so he was waiting for me at the bottom. He was dressed in his normal suit. It worked for him, and he could probably make it look natural if he was walking through a barnyard.

When I reached the main floor, I did a little twirl to impress death.

“How do I look?” I asked.

Jacky hesitated. “Like a human?”

I laughed at the obvious confusion in his voice, took up his arm, and put mine through his. “Oh, good. I’ll fool everyone.”

I wasn’t offended. Big Jacky had once told me that he couldn’t tell that Owen Ashworth was handsome, and if that misplaced male supermodel could fly under the radar, then so could a tap-dancing nuclear bomb.

Speaking of Owen Ashworth.

“Have the other guests arrived?” I asked.

“About half of them from what I gather, but I haven’t been introduced to them yet.”

“Then let’s go mingle!”

There was already a decent-sized crowd in the living room, but there was also space to welcome a lot more. I recognized a few faces, including Rall Axton, who stepped away from the unknown couple he was with to come and greet us.

“Mr. Noctis, Miss Cole,” he said, “I’m so glad that you could make it. I’m sure that Ellis would say the same thing, but I think she’s already been pigeonholed by someone. My main job is to go around every ten minutes to see if she needs rescuing from a conversation.”

He said this so cheerfully and matter-of-fact-ly that I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. If I was a betting girl, I’d say he was serious, and I would have put an extra wager on the proposal that Ellis Oliversen had asked him to do it.

“Is Olivia down yet?” he asked.

“She’s a second or two behind us,” I said.

“Oh!” He hooked his hands into his pants pockets and beamed at me. “Then I’ll go escort her in. I never get to do that.”

With an equal mix of jealousy and happiness for Olivia, I watched him leave. I hoped he’d embarrass her real good.

We hadn’t made it more than two steps into the living room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Nylah Oliversen, looking like two million bucks in the world’s chicest navy-blue dress.

“Emerra,” she said, “there’s someone here—”

Before she could say anything else, I heard a voice that made me lose all interest in poor Nylah.

“Emerra!”

The voice was about as average as a voice can be for a middle-aged white male, but it instantly brought a grin to my face.

“Cosmo!”

I bounded past Nylah toward the man who’d called me. He smiled, and we both reached out in that supremely awkward and friendly way that two natural huggers do when they know that social expectations dictate they aren’t good enough friends to justify an embrace. It usually settles into a handshake-slash-arm-grab combo.

We were so happy to see each other, neither of us minded the awkwardness. Or maybe we were both used to it.

Cosmo was still clean shaven and round of face, with the same gray-white in his hair, down-turned eyes, and glasses that I’m pretty sure he wore as a fidget toy. His normal blue sports coat and collared shirt had been traded in for a gray and black number. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but I’d die before I’d be the one to tell him that.

“Don’t you look sleek tonight?” I said.

He blushed and pushed up his glasses despite the fact they were already at the top of his nose. Any final traces of coolness that he’d been trying to cultivate curled up and died. I felt no guilt. A man that sweet and cute has no business being cool anyway.

“Thank you, Emerra.”

It was about then that the rest of the room came to intrude on our happy reunion. You can only ignore the pressure of that many stares for so long.

I grinned sheepishly and leaned closer to him so I could mutter, “I’m sorry. This is your territory, isn’t it? Should I call you Mr. Uhler or Master Uhler or something?”

He put his hand on my arm. “No, no. We agreed on Emerra and Cosmo. I get enough ‘Master Uhler’ around here.” He lowered his voice and added, “I’d rather be around a friendly face than a respectful one at the moment.”

“Oh! Then, no worries.” I winked at him. “I’ve got you covered.”

We both became aware of the presence haunting our side and turned. Nylah was standing beside us. The stiffness of her body and the way her eyes were widened made me think she’d suffered an unpleasant surprise.

She took an uneasy step toward us. “You know each other.”

Her voice was breathy, with a slight squeak. It sounded like someone was using a bicycle pump to attempt CPR on a small rodent that was already dead.

Oh. She’d thought I’d been lying.

Of course, she was right, but the unfortunate soul had guessed wrong about which part was the lie.

“Oh, yes,” Cosmo said. “We’re good friends.” He turned his head toward me. “Though I am surprised to find you here. Is there something these witches know that I don’t?”

“Nah.” I waved off any unwarranted interest. “I’m here with Jacky.”

Cosmo paused. It was an infinitesimal moment. If I hadn’t been watching his face, I might have missed it.

“Jacky’s here?” His eyes scanned the room, searching for the skeleton.

Not a skeleton, I reminded myself. And there’s a chance Cosmo won’t be able to find him.

I pointed to Big Jacky, who’d migrated toward another group. “He’s over there.”

Cosmo’s eyes widened when his brain registered Jacky’s presence. “Well,” he muttered, “this is an interesting party.”

A familiar voice said, “Nylah?”

All three of us looked around as Ellis Oliversen walked up and laid her hand on Nylah’s elbow. She looked beyond her daughter to me and Cosmo.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d arrived, Master Uhler.”

Hearing Ellis Oliversen refer to good ol’ Cosmo as “Master Uhler” threw a wrench in my brain-cogs. I’d subconsciously come to think of her as the most powerful witch in the state—if not the world—but there was no mistaking the deference in her voice.

I was standing, elbow to elbow, with the most powerful witch in the room…and I’d winked at him.

Since the positioning of our group would make a handshake difficult, Cosmo inclined his head in a polite bow. “Good evening, Mistress Oliversen. Thank you for allowing me to come on such short notice.”

“Not at all,” she said. “Your invitation always stands, and we’re honored to have you. Was someone at the door to meet you?”

“Miss Oliversen showed me in.” Cosmo nodded toward Nylah.

“And she introduced you to…Miss Cole?”

“She didn’t have to,” Cosmo said.

“They’re friends,” Nylah added.

The bicycle pump had been put aside, and the words were uttered with the same numb finality as “they’re dead.”

Ellis’s eyes slid from her daughter over to me. I had no idea what expression would appease those calculating eyes, so all I could do was try to avoid looking like an idiot. No bets on how well I succeeded.

“Did you need Miss Oliversen?” Cosmo asked.

Ellis looked at him.

“You called her name,” he said.

“Oh,” Ellis blinked. “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry, Nylah, but do you mind if I drag you away for a moment?”

Nylah looked at Cosmo. “Um—”

“Don’t worry, Miss Oliversen,” he said. “I’m sure Emerra can take care of me.”

“If you’re sure, Master Uhler.”

Ellis and Nylah excused themselves. As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, Cosmo put his arm out like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“Shall we?” he said.

I grinned and put my arm through his. Middle-aged men could be so darling sometimes.

To solidify his image as a gentleman, he leaned his head closer to mine and said, “You look lovely in that dress, by the way.”

I swished the skirt out from my legs using my free hand. “Thank you.” I added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Nylah had to loan it to me. I didn’t come prepared for all this socializing.”

Cosmo nudged his glasses again. “Emerra, I wear a suit coat whenever I’m out, and I’m never prepared for socializing.” He put his hand over mine. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?” said the most powerful witch in the room.

“Do you need protection?” I asked.

“That’s how introverts survive when we have to go to parties. We find a friendly looking extrovert and stick to them like a lamprey.”

I threw back my head and laughed.

Cosmo reminded me a lot of Conrad. Both immeasurably powerful men, but if you put them in a room with a crowd, they’d be the ones hiding in the corner.

Still thinking of Conrad, I said, “You don’t go to many parties, do you?”

“Not if I can help it. And I can usually help it.” He made a face. “I’m the torrman for several different covens, so I get a lot of invitations to these kinds of gatherings, but I think most of them are a formality.”

“You have to invite all the fairies, lest you offend one of them.”

Cosmo looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re joking, but you’re not far off the mark. They don’t dare ignore me, but they’d be awfully surprised if I came.”

“You came tonight,” I pointed out. In my head, I added, And on short notice.

The torrman looked uncomfortable. “It’s unusual circumstances. I needed to talk to Mistress Oliversen.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh, fine. Fine.” Cosmo was smart enough to know he wasn’t much good at lying; he rushed to change the topic. “Anyway, me being here isn’t half as surprising as Jacky being here.”

“He never comes to parties?” I asked.

“I don’t think he’s ever been invited to them.”

“Which is funny,” I said with a smile. “You’d think people would be a lot more worried about offending that particular torrman.”

Cosmo didn’t answer. When I glanced over, I caught him watching me from the corner of his eye again. The thoughtfulness in that look reminded me of Ellis’s calculating gaze. For the first time, I was really impressed by the fact that Cosmo Uhler was a witch.

He looked away. “Most people don’t realize who he is.”

A slight sense of unease—no, it was smaller than that. A sense of imbalance caused my thoughts to tilt. Cosmo (who I was beginning to suspect concealed gobs of intelligence behind those fidget glasses) had so carefully pitched his voice that I could almost hear the echoes of all the details he’d left out.

Cosmo Uhler was the witches’ torrman, Reynell was over the alchemists, Thorburn had his squad of thrismages, and Ashworth led the sorcerers. Jack Noctis was over no one. How many people even knew there was a fifth torrman?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Then again, it could be the fact that he was the embodiment of death. His existence and the events of his life seemed to be built on secrets.

Cosmo said in an almost convincingly off-handed tone, “I wonder if Ellis Oliversen knows.”

I was glad I could at least put his mind at rest about that.

“Jacky’s invitation was more of a fluke than anything,” I explained. “We came down here for a different reason, but since we’re staying with the Oliversens, Ellis had to invite us.”

“Ah. Do you mind if I ask what brought you down here?”

“Uhhhh, it’s kind of convoluted.”

It also involved a lot of Oliversen family drama, and I didn’t feel comfortable airing my host’s dirty laundry. It seemed ungrateful.

I picked the safest line of explanation and went for it. “We came down here to watch Jacky’s apprentice give her first-year report.”

Cosmo let out a soft hum. “I’d heard he had an apprentice. That must be an interesting relationship.”

“Oh, dude. You have no idea.”

“You know her?”

“She lives with us.”

Cosmo’s eyebrows jumped. “I didn’t know you lived with Jacky.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I do, and so does she. Would you like to meet her?”

“I would love to.”

The crowd had grown since we’d started chatting, but it wasn’t hard to spot Olivia. Her red hair stood out. She’d left it down in loose waves that I now knew, for a fact, took fifteen minutes with a curling iron and a lot of profanity to perfect.

She was talking to Owen Ashworth and the alchemist, Cameron Misserly. Rall Axton was beside her.

I led Cosmo up to them while trying to think of an elegant way to insert myself into the group.

I shouldn’t have bothered. Ashworth saw us coming.

“Cosmo! Miss Cole! Come join us.” He looked at the others in his group. “Do you mind?”

Axton answered for all of them. “Not at all.”

Misserly stepped aside so we’d have room as we approached.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Cosmo,” Ashworth said.

“Good evening, Owen. Rall.”

“Master Uhler,” Rall said, “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to meet my youngest daughter.”

“That’s why I brought him over,” I said. “Cosmo, this is Olivia Oliversen, Jack Noctis’s apprentice. Olivia, this is Cosmo Uhler.”

In the most humble voice I’d ever heard from her, Olivia said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Uhler.”

Cosmo gave her one of his shy smiles. “The pleasure’s mine, Miss Oliversen.”

“Jacky got himself an Oliversen,” Ashworth said wryly. “Can you believe it? I don’t know about you, Cosmo, but I’m jealous.”

Olivia blushed in a most becoming manner. I smiled when I saw it. Rall put his arm around his daughter and pulled her closer to his side.

“Got her?” he said. “Mr. Noctis is enjoying a temporary loan. And only by Olivia’s leave.”

“It’s all right, Daddy.” Olivia’s voice was low and menacing enough to remind Rall Axton he was supposed to be on his best behavior.

“Ha!” he said. “I know these magician types. They’ll try to put a collar around your neck if you’re not careful.”

He glared at the two torrmen. Owen and Cosmo looked at each other with faintly embarrassed smiles, but neither tried to deny the accusation. Misserly, however, was eager to disassociate himself from the corrupting influence of the power market.

He held up his hand. “You’re safe from my intrigues, Miss Oliversen. I’ve no earthly use for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Cosmo said to him, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No,” Owen said, “we got distracted by Mr. Axton’s defense of his daughter’s autonomy.”

“It’s a worthy defense!” I cried.

“Thank you, Miss Cole,” Rall said.

We nodded to each other with mock seriousness.

Dr. Misserly reached out to Cosmo. “Miss Oliversen referred to you as Master Uhler? You’re a witch, sir?”

“I am.”

They shook.

“I’m Dr. Cameron Misserly.”

We all saw Misserly hesitate, but it was Owen Ashworth who guessed its cause.

“Go on,” Owen said. “You can say it here.” The torrman turned to his fellow torrman. “Dr. Misserly is an alchemist.”

“Is it some kind of a secret?” I asked.

“No more than normal,” Misserly said, “but I’m not used to being surrounded by other magicians.” He looked over both his shoulders as if he expected to be swarmed at any moment.

Owen leaned closer to me. “The alchemists are the most anti-social of our lot. They work by themselves, passing along their knowledge from master to apprentice, or making it up as they go along. Poor Reynell spends half her time trying to flush out the new alchemists from whatever hole they’re hiding in long enough to get their names.”

A sudden thought popped into my head. And, of course, it was out of my mouth before my brain had time to register and file it away.

“How do you guys handle all that when you’re talking with non-magicians?”

“I’m sorry?” Misserly said.

“Like, when someone asks you what you do, you’re not allowed to say that you’re a sorcerer or an alchemist, are you?”

Cosmo said, “It depends on the circumstance, but most of the time we’re not supposed to.”

“Then what do you do?”

Ashworth bestowed upon the group one of his priceless smiles. Since he was looking at me when he unleashed that weapon, I felt my heart beat faster.

“There’s strategy there,” he warned me. “You have to be able to make good on your bluff, so I recommend using a hobby you know a lot about. Half the people I know think I’m an investor—or, rather, that I’m only an investor.”

Yup. That fit him. And his suits.

I turned to Cosmo.

When he saw me looking at him, his shoulders tweaked up in a fidgety shrug and he blew out his breath. “I usually go for the boredom angle. I tell people I’m a middle manager. I’ve never had anyone ask me questions.”

My nose wrinkled up when I held back my laugh.

Rall said, “What about you, Doctor?”

“Oh, I got lucky there,” Misserly said. “Most of my background is mundane. I know enough about science to get myself into all kinds of trouble.”

Cosmo said, “Is that what your doctorate is in?”

“Yes.”

“Which branch of science did you study?”

Misserly shrugged, probably in an attempt to create an air of cool detachment, but he was betrayed by the interest in his eyes. “A bit of everything. Biology. Chemistry. I settled on physics to get my degree, but I love it all.”

“Good god, man!” Rall cried. “What on earth kind of an alchemist does that make you?”

Every once in a while, I wondered if Iset offered a course like “Magicians and Magic 1010” or if there was some kind of a book: The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Not Standing Out in the Magical World. If there was, I hadn’t read it.

I squeezed Cosmo’s arm so he’d lean closer to me. “Are there different kinds of alchemists?”

I’d lowered my voice, but I hadn’t lowered it enough. Ashworth heard me, and he loved to lecture.

“If you ask an alchemist,” he said, “they’ll tell you there are hundreds—maybe thousands. A different type for each one of them. If you ask the other magicians, we usually shove them into three or four categories, depending on what they like to work with.” He raised a new finger for each category. “Atmos, bios, khemos, mekhanos.”

Rall added, “They’re a lot like how they sound—bios for biology, khemos for chemistry—”

Olivia grabbed her father’s arm. “Stop. No, stop.”

“Hmmm?” he turned to look at her.

“Can’t you see you’re hurting him?” Olivia nodded to Dr. Misserly.

Olivia had winced when her father started his recital, but the man who was both a scientist and an alchemist had twice the reason to be offended by it. You could tell by the pained expression on his face.

“That’s not…quite…how that works,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, I know,” Rall assured him, “but that’s the only way I remember them. I don’t know about ‘atmos,’ though. I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Atmos, as in, atmosphere,” Ashworth said. “I think the word means vapor.”

Rall betrayed an unconscious (and adorable) confidence in his daughter when he looked to her for a better explanation.

She said, “They specialize in working with the magic that wafts off the elements.”

“I thought they all did,” Rall said.

“Atmos alchemists don’t bother changing it much.”

“Oh.” Rall Axton looked up at Ashworth. “That must be a rare group.”

“Incredibly so,” Ashworth agreed. “Ford—he’s the head of Ledasein—is trying to round them up and force them to join his school.”

“He wants them to become sorcerers?” Rall asked.

Ashworth nodded.

“I wish him luck,” Misserly said. “The two atmos alchemists I’ve met are the most stubborn people I know. I think it’s required for their work.”

Ashworth bowed his head to hide his smile.

“What about you?” Cosmo said to Misserly. “You never said—what kind of alchemist are you?”

Misserly shoved both hands in his pants pockets. “Oh, I’m none of the above. I must be in one of the other thousand categories that Mr. Ashworth didn’t name.”

The joke had been delivered with the exact amount of flippancy required for cocktail party humor.

While we were all smiling in appreciation, a familiar looking woman came up to Olivia’s side and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

To the rest of us, she said, “Excuse me,” then she looked at Olivia. “I heard you were asking for me, dear?”

“Oh! Mrs. Bovoyay. Yes, thank you.” Olivia turned to her father. “Would you excuse me for a few minutes.”

“Of course, darling,” Rall said. “You go on. I’ll hunt you down and bother you later.”

Olivia glared at him for a second, but all she got from that was a narrowed-eyed view of his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes and left with Mrs. Bovoyay.

Beside me, Cosmo lurched a half-inch forward. “Actually—”

The other men turned to listen, but Cosmo was watching Rall Axton.

He went on, “If this group is breaking up, I wonder if I could borrow you, Rall.”

“Me?” Axton turned to the torrman.

“Do you think you could arrange for me to talk to Ellis?”

“Master Uhler, I’ll have you know, I’m rude enough that I can arrange anything. Come on. It’s about time for me to go find her anyway.”

Cosmo said to me, “Will you be all right, Emerra?”

I smiled and said, “Isn’t that my line?”

He smiled back. I withdrew my hand so he could escape. He and Rall excused themselves. I was left with Ashworth and Misserly.

That wasn’t exactly…comfortable…for me, but it was a darn sight more comfortable than if I’d been left alone with Ashworth.

Owen Ashworth was probably a decent human being—you know, for a self-serving aspirant—and the poor guy couldn’t help the way he looked any more than I could. But prejudice isn’t reasonable, and I didn’t like standing next to a guy who a) kept trying to figure out my secrets, and b) could make my heart race faster by standing too close.

That made Dr. Cameron Misserly my new best friend. I had to keep him there.

I sidled closer to the alchemist. “So, you’re a none-of-the-above type alchemist? Do you mind if I ask—do you use a mix of all the types or something else altogether?”

Being addressed so suddenly made his eyebrows jump, but he said, “I don’t mind. I use a mix. It’s mostly khemos and bios, but I have to make a lot of devices just to do my work. It really is hard to classify an experimental investigator. Our entire methodology is ‘whatever works.’”

Owen stepped toward us, closing in the ranks and making it easier to hear. “Experimental investigator? Lord! I thought you were all dead!”

“Give me time,” Misserly said. “I’m sure an experiment will get me someday.”

The two men were smiling, and neither of them seemed bothered by the morbid turn in the conversation.

When Ashworth noticed the confusion that was written all over my face, he explained: “A hundred or so years ago, it was fashionable for alchemists to call themselves ‘experimental investigators.’ Like the good doctor, they tended to use a mix of the different types of alchemy.” He turned back to Misserly. “I don’t know why that fashion died out.”

“Neither do I,” Misserly said. “It’s a damn good title.”

“How did you learn your craft?”

“Original source research.”

Ashworth’s eyes widened. “You used books?”

“That’s what you have to do when all your masters are dead.”

The torrman shook his head. “I’m glad I’m not an alchemist. You have my respect, Doctor.”

Without warning, Misserly said to me, “What do you do, Miss Cole?”

I gaped at him. Half my mind went blank and watched with zen-like detachment as the other half of my brain spun into high gear.

Crap!

What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t claim to be Big Jacky’s warden—Ashworth wouldn’t fall for that, and Misserly didn’t know enough about Jacky to care. “Freeloader” was accurate, but not something I wanted to brag about to a man with a Ph.D.

Wait! Hadn’t we been discussing how to lie about what you did less than five minutes ago? What had they said? Something about using your hobbies or trying to be as boring as possible?

I was still deliberating between claiming to be an artist and claiming to be a call-center worker when Misserly added, “I suppose I’ll have to ask outright—are you a witch?”

Oh, thank god! An easy one.

“I’m not a witch,” I said. “I’m not actually a magician.”

I could feel Owen Ashworth’s eyes on me. It felt like spiders crawling up my neck.

The torrman had been among the crowd of people kicked out of the courtroom when I’d invoked the bòid. It’s possible he believed that I wasn’t a magician, but he knew that wasn’t the end of the story. The question was, would he say anything?

Misserly, free from any concern about what I may or may not be, nodded. “That makes sense. Forgive me, but I wondered when I saw you waiting outside ARC Hall while the rest of your party was inside.”

“Oh, but that wouldn’t matter,” Ashworth said. “I’m pretty sure they’d be less likely to let her in if she was a witch.”

His voice sounded odd, as if he was trying to sound casual while laying down a trap, hoping that I would talk. It would probably be a sticky trap. Something like a tar-pit.

I pressed my lips together. It'd be hard to get tar off these shoes.

Misserly, who was definitely my new best friend, came to my rescue. “How do you mean?”

“There’s a process for getting into the archives of ARC Hall when you’re not a member of the coven,” Ashworth explained. “It’s lengthy, tedious, and after all your hard work appeasing the bureaucrats, whether you get in or not is still at the whim of the head librarian or mistress of the coven.”

“You’ve tried to get in before?” Misserly asked.

“Several times. I was approved once—which is still infinitely more times than I’ve heard of them letting in a witch from another coven.”

“Why would you want to go in?” I asked. “Can you use their magic?”

Ashworth had the gall to raise one of his perfect eyebrows at me. Who did he think he was? Darius Vasil?

“Their magic?” he said. “No. Parts of their spells? Possibly. That’s what I was researching. But even if a sorcerer can’t use the spells themselves, we can usually use their knowledge.”

Thoughts drifted through my head. The memory of Olivia bent over three books at once. The fact that she could recognize most sorcery spells.

“She has learned principles and theories from every major branch of magic…”

Olivia’s determination to overcome her magical blindness had turned her into some kind of magician’s mutt. Was that normal?

I said to Ashworth, “Are most sorcerers…um, you know—bilingual? Like you?”

The torrman laughed. “I’m sorry?”

I let out a short sigh. Some people were over here speaking magic in three different languages, while I was still struggling with English. I despaired sometimes. I really did.

I tried again: “Would most sorcerers know how to use the magical theory from, oh, say, the witches?”

Ashworth only watched me, his face completely inscrutable.

I grunted. “Dude, you’ve got to help me out here. I’m not a magician, remember? Was my question even close to intelligible?”

“I understood it,” Misserly said quietly.

I shot him a grateful look.

When Ashworth finally answered, his voice was low and level. I’d heard him talk that way to Jacky and Darius—but never to me. He must have turned off the charm.

“If I was estimating,” he said, “I’d put my guess at around fifteen percent.”

“Fifteen percent?” I repeated.

“Most sorcerers are content to learn what they can from their colleges and apply it. The better ones develop their own spells using the system they’re trained in, but sorcerers that reach outside their own study to try to gain insight—they’re rare. And they tend to be among the best.”

Like you, I thought.

I turned to Dr. Misserly. “What about the alchemists?”

“Many more. Most of us.” He smiled. “It’s the rule of whatever works.”

So there would be a lot of people interested in the contents of ARC Hall. Not that I actually knew what those contents were.

I asked Misserly, “Did you get a chance to see anything during your tour?”

“I got to see exactly how large and impressive it was,” he said, “then I was whisked away.”

Ashworth clapped a hand on Misserly’s shoulder. “I know how you feel, sir. Believe me, I know.”

Movement caught my eye. I looked over in time to see something large cross the opening that led from the living room to the hall. Since it was only the briefest glimpse, all I got was an impression of size and color before it disappeared behind the wall—but that impression was enough to make me feel like someone had yanked the floor out from under my feet and left me standing on thin air.

“Miss Cole?” Misserly said. “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah.” I tried to focus my attention back on him. A brief, bemused laugh bubbled up from nowhere. When that was over, I said, “Thank you. I’m fine.”

But it was no good. My eyes drifted back to the doorway.

“Excuse me,” I said.

I walked between Misserly and Ashworth, toward the door, but stopped when I felt a hand take my arm. I looked back. It was Ashworth.

“Are you leaving?”

He’d turned the charm back on.

“I’m not—well, yes,” I sputtered, “I am leaving. But I’m not leaving, leaving.”

One edge of the torrman’s lips lifted in a smirkish smile that was both devastatingly handsome and profoundly irksome.

“Care to try again?” he said.

I was blushing hard enough my cheeks were the right shade of magenta to compliment the color of my dress.

Sure. He could be casual about it. He was probably used to people around him stuttering like idiots.

“I thought I saw something,” I explained.

“Someone you know?” he asked.

“No.” I hesitated. “Just…something.”

“This is a busy party. If you’re not sure what you saw, then it was probably nothing.”

He had a point. By then, most of the guests had arrived. There was movement and colors everywhere. The room was dancing with little gestures and the occasional shine of light off of various cocktail glasses. As I watched, a couple strode past the opening. They were looking at each other, and they displayed no agitation or surprise.

It was probably nothing.

Ha! Forget that.

If it was nothing, then it was about to be a well-investigated nothing. I knew my brain, and I knew it wouldn’t shut up until it had some answers.

“Then I’m going to the bathroom,” I growled.

At first, Ashworth didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on my face. He had good reason to be suspicious of my overly convenient bladder, but it’s not like he could call my bluff by offering to come with me.

Three cheers for social conventions!

He let his arm drop back to his side and said, “When you get back, you’re welcome to join us.”

I was already halfway to the door. I wasn’t even sure if he heard my hasty “uh-huh.”