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“What did you just say?”

He looked annoyed at his own slip-up. She could only watch, trapped inside the dress, as Garth turned around and closed the door. The two of them were now alone inside the room. Her heart was beating fast in her chest. She flung the words at him.

“You called me Nevelyn.”

He sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. Though, I suppose it doesn’t matter. No one else is here.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I was asked to keep an eye on you.”

A bright rage filled her. “Asked by who?”

“Old Agnes. She said if I didn’t watch out for you at the playhouse, she’d tie me to the bottom of a boat and sail it out into the middle of the ocean.”

Agnes Monroe. Ren’s mother. Nevelyn knew she’d helped secure the post at the playhouse, but she had no idea her involvement had gone beyond that. She couldn’t resist asking the question that had the most potential for hurt. The one that nestled into the center of her deepest fears.

“So all this time… you were just pretending?”

Garth started forward. “Of course not. I thought you were a friend of hers. A niece or something. New to the city. She didn’t give me much information. I promised her I’d keep an eye out for you, and then the day we met…” He shook his head, like he was clearing away cobwebs. “I’ve never been so taken with someone. Ask my friends. I’m picky about people. There aren’t many folks who I think are worth spending time with… but you…”

Nevelyn hated how easily that made her blush. Especially when she was still feeling the initial sting of imagining he might not care for her at all. She still wasn’t sure what to believe.

“I like you,” Garth said simply. “I am admittedly confused about why you’re dangling from a dress in the middle of a room, but I can promise you that all the flirting and the notes… all of that was real.”

His words brought her attention swinging back to the task at hand. Garth’s honesty would have to be enough for now. She did not have time to ask him questions or to root out a proper confession. Every minute that passed invited more risk into her plan.

“If that’s true, I need your help. Move this ladder away.”

He frowned. “Don’t you need it to get back out?”

“No. I’m staying in the dress. Please, Garth. Move it to the corner.”

In spite of his confusion, Garth obeyed again. He carefully set the ladder aside. Nevelyn knew she had no more time to waste. She cut straight to the point.

“I am about to perform magic. When the spell begins, I will not seem like myself. It is very possible that I will scream at you. I might curse you or beg for you to release me. Do not listen to a word I say. Do not move. Do not do anything at all. If you truly want to stay here, you will sit in that corner and obey those commands. Do you understand?”

She was prepared for him to run for the door. To leave, before everything could become even stranger than it already was. Instead, he sat down in the spot she’d pointed to. Nevelyn glanced down at her necklace, briefly worried she’d used magic on him. But the darker heart was facing outward. Garth was obeying because he liked her. He wanted to be here. She found that she was comforted by his presence. If this was to be her end, at least she would not be alone.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered.

The spell was written into the threads of fabric. Layer after careful layer. If a member of the Weavers Guild were there as a witness instead of Garth, she’d be named an expert artisan instantly. With a steady push, the magic woven into the fabric roared to life. It punched out from her like a great gasp of air. Nevelyn instantly felt the dress tighten around her. Like a great, coiled snake. It squeezed her hips and her shoulders and her chest.

Across the city, Tessa Brood’s dress would be doing the same.

The second wave of the spell was more of a whisper. Both of her powers were hidden inside it, braided together in the most powerful version of the spell she’d ever created. One half of the magic would convince her to forget herself in this dress, in this moment, in this place. At the same time, the other half of the magic would beckon her to behold herself in that other dress, that other moment, that other place. Bound as they were by the twin dresses, Tessa Brood would feel that same push and pull. Nevelyn set both of her mental hands on the magical thread between them—and she unleashed all her strength into the dueling spells.

Her mind shattered.

The very smallest piece of who she was remained in that room, dangling from the ceiling. But the rest of who she was vaulted through the city, shoved headfirst through stone walls, danced past crowds of all the wrong people. Her mind was flung into the distance, and she could only hope the tether worked, that she landed in the right one.

She came gasping to life.

Backstage at the Nodding Violet. One of the other actresses—Nevelyn couldn’t recall her name—was at her side. She set a hand on Nevelyn’s shoulder, concern lining her face.

“Hey! Are you all right?”

Nevelyn righted herself, still struggling to breathe evenly. It took a long moment to accustom herself to an entirely different body—to control the mind she’d invaded.