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“Oh.” Nevelyn threw a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. That had been, as intended, a critique of Faith’s work. “Not my words. The old dress is really pretty. Very classic. Kersey said something about just wanting to keep Tessa happy? That there had been threats before? I can’t remember. I only worked a little on the dress. Kersey stayed late to finish it last night.” Nevelyn cast a look around, as if she’d only just now realized the old woman was absent. “Maybe that’s why she’s not here?”

Faith was shaking her head. “That overriding, conniving little…”

John set a soothing hand on their mother’s shoulder. Simon watched them warily.

“I want to see it,” Faith announced. “I want to see it now.”

Nevelyn could not have asked for a more perfect result. Simon led the charge back upstairs. She waited for them all to file out of the room before trailing after them. Their ascent drew attention. Heads turned to watch. Nevelyn could not help admiring how easy it had been to set all of this in motion. Now for the finale. She just hoped Kersey was still at home, trying to figure out why her candles weren’t working today.

Tessa Brood turned as they entered her room. She was already in the dress, though the back wasn’t fully laced. She looked breathtaking. Nevelyn had tried it on a few times, but she’d not felt very comfortable in the tight fabric. Tessa could not have looked more at home. The Brood heiress glittered in the bright, reflected light of the mirror.

“Gods, you can’t be serious,” Faith began, gesturing wildly. “It’s the wrong era. The fabric and the make and all of it. This doesn’t actually fit with the rest of the play!”

All of this was aimed vaguely at Nevelyn, who supposed she was a stand-in for Kersey. Tessa Brood raised her chin in response. “This is the dress I want to wear.”

John tried a more subtle approach. “What if we go with the original—just for the first run—and when we’re a few weeks in, you can—”

“Absolutely not.”

A sharp red color was forming on Tessa’s cheeks. Nevelyn didn’t think she was embarrassed. It looked more like anger. She was not accustomed to being challenged. The intensity she threw back at John and Faith made them seem more like mortal enemies than colleagues.

“I’ll not suffer through another poor review. I want an outfit that matches my skill. This dress works for me—and you will make it work, or we will begin a very different conversation.”

Nevelyn piped in. “Might… might I just make one suggestion…?”

Faith rounded on her. “You allowed this to happen without telling me. You conniving, baseless creature. So no, you may not make a suggestion. Find your voice when it counts next time.”

“On the contrary,” Tessa Brood snapped. “I would hear what you have to say, Nan.”

The room fell silent. By now there were likely others gathered in the halls and backstage rooms to listen to the drama of the day. Nevelyn wrung her hands, pretending to be the fretful creature they all expected. She knew, though, that Faith would never dare to override someone as well positioned as Tessa Brood. After a moment, the seamstress conceded.

“Fine. Out with it, girl.”

“Why not try it out today? The dress? Run this through rehearsals. If it sticks out like a sore thumb, you’ll have your answer. But if it does work? Well? Wouldn’t it be better if Miss Brood was happy? Temperament impacts performance. Aren’t they always saying that during the lessons?”

It was the most reasonable possible compromise. Both sides would see it as a victory. For Tessa, it would be a chance to prove the dress’s merits. For Faith, an opportunity to point out just how poorly it fit with the rest of the play. The gathered parties exchanged glances.

John spoke when their mother remained silent. “It’s a good idea. We’ll try it for today.”

Tessa turned back to her mirror, looking as victorious as Nevelyn felt. Faith was still seething, but she stormed out of the room without another word. Simon stalked in the opposite direction, consulting Tessa over possible eye shadows and other alterations. Nevelyn quietly trailed the DuNesses. When they began the descent into the under-stage labyrinth, Nevelyn saw her chance.

She darted straight toward the backstage exit.

It would be a near thing. If Kersey arrived too soon, all would be spoiled. If Tessa Brood decided to take off her dress for some reason, the plan would fail. Nevelyn had a short window of time to get home. She burst through the back door and hissed with pain when the force of her lowered shoulder made the door rebound on its hinges. It gashed the side of her foot as it slammed shut. A cut that started bleeding immediately. She ignored the pain and sprinted down the alleyway. Which is where she nearly leveled Garth.

She crashed into him with enough force to offset their size difference. It had them both pinwheeling to stay upright. Garth cursed before realizing it was her. A smile broke out on his face.

“Nan! Are you all right?”

She did not have time to talk. Not now.

“I’m very sick. Please move.”

She shoved past him. In her rush, she could not make out the words he called after her. Nevelyn Tin’Vori had never won a footrace in her life. All of her siblings had been faster. Dahvid and Ware were older and stronger. Even little Ava had been far more athletic. Now, though, she ran like a wolf through the streets. A huntress in pursuit. She took every corner at speed and didn’t stop until she’d reached her apartment door. One fumble of the keys, and then she was inside.

The black dress hung like a shadow in the middle of the room.

A perfect twin to the one she’d just handed to Tessa Brood. She’d patiently stitched them with great precision. Each night, she’d make the same amount of progress on both dresses. Weaving interlocking magic between them, one spell at a time. Over the course of those weeks, Nevelyn had bound the two dresses together. Her secret spells, manipulated and coaxed and guided into something more.