She shrugs. "My family would get some money, if she was."

"They stop paying once you're dead," I say.

"My mistress wouldn't kill me," she says. "She needs me. And now she thinks I'm dead."

"She'll buy another surrogate," I say. "Does that seem right to you?"

Olive hesitates, and I see a way in. She doesn't want to be replaced.

"They've moved the Auction up. She could be getting a new surrogate in a few months." Olive's mouth puckers. Her eyebrows scrunch together, forming a dark line across her forehead. "No, my mistress- "Your mistress wants a child and she'll do anything she can to get one. We've got to stop the Auction," I say.

I can see her processing this, the crease between her eyebrows deepening "Stop the Auction," she says.

It's not exactly how I'd like to convince her, but my choices are limited at the moment. We don't have the time.

"And then I can be with my mistress," Olive says.

I don't answer. My heart is heavy in my chest. I don't like manipulating her like this, but what choice do I have?

We continue our walk and head back to the house, passing Indi, who is sitting by the pond, her face a mask of calm. Little white-tipped waves ripple out from beneath her palm.

I'm about to sit beside her when the arcana begins to buzz.

"Excuse me for a second," I mutter, hurrying into the house.

Sienna is in the kitchen doing the dishes. Sil sits in the rocking chair by the fire, sipping a whiskey. I yank the arcana out of my hair.

"Hello?" I say.

"Something's happened," Lucien says.

Sil sits up and puts down her drink.

"There has been . . . an arrangement. An engagement is about to be announced."

"I don't see how that's relevant," I say. "Who cares about a royal engagement?"

"It is between the Duchess of the Lake's daughter and the Exetor's son."

I stare at the arcana. "The Duchess doesn't have a daughter."

"I don't know how she did it," Lucien says, and it feels like he's talking to himself. "How she managed to convince him or threaten him or . . . no one knows what happened to end the Duchess and the Exetor's engagement-and believe me, the Electress has had me try very hard to find out. But whatever the cause, the Duchess must have something over him. Something very big. The Electress is furious, of course."

"But, Lucien," I say again, "I don't understand. The Duchess doesn't have a daughter."

"Garnet told you about the surrogate?"

"The one she stole? Yes."

"No one knew you were gone. The Duchess claimed she was keeping you sequestered after the alleged rape. So she replaced you, quickly and quietly. I can't find any records of any surrogate vanishing from a holding facility. And all the royal surrogates-well, the ones who are still alive-are accounted for."

"So where did this surrogate come from?"

"I don't know. But the Duchess has done something that hasn't ever happened in the history of the Auction. She has bartered an engagement before the child is born."

"So . . . her surrogate is pregnant?"

"It would appear so."

"But she only got her yesterday!"

"The Jewel is seething," Lucien says. "Many of the royals feel this is unfair. Many are angry with the Duchess. And now that the Auction date has been moved, Houses are lashing out at rival Houses' surrogates worse than ever. Old alliances are being broken. Ladies-in-waiting are feeling the strain, and it's worse for the lower servants, the footmen and the maids."

"Well, that's good for us, isn't it?" I say. "Those are the people we need on our side."

"We don't need them dying," he says.

"Of course not. That's not what I meant."

Suddenly, Ash bursts through the front door, Raven on his heels.

"Violet," he says, panting.

I leave the arcana hovering in the air, my immediate thought that Raven has been injured. But she steps aside to reveal another figure I hadn't noticed at first.

"Ochre?" I practically tackle him with my hug. "What are you doing here?" I turn to Ash. "You shouldn't have brought him. He shouldn't know about this place."

"Violet." Ochre looks pale in the moonlight. His big brown eyes are dark shadows. "They took her. She's . . . she's gone. I tried to get in touch with someone from the Society, but they moved me to a different dairy and I didn't know anyone. I barely managed to get to the training tonight. I thought maybe you'd be there. They took her, Violet!"

"Slow down," I say, leading him over to sit at the dining table. "Who's gone?"

He slumps into a chair. "Hazel," he says miserably.

My heart turns to stone. The very air around me seems to freeze.

"What?" I whisper.

"Regimentals came to the house. Mother said there was a doctor with them. They wore some a crest on their jackets-a blue circle crossed with two silver things, like spears or something. And they just . . . took her away."

His head drops into his hands as my stone heart thuds into the pit of my stomach.

A blue circle crossed with two silver tridents.

The crest of the House of the Lake.

It's my turn to sink into a chair.

"Lucien," I call to the still-hovering arcana. "Did you hear that?"

Lucien's voice is grave. "Yes."

I think other people are talking, but their voices sound far away. I can't focus on what they're saying. My head pounds, one thought repeating over and over.

They took Hazel.

Hazel is the stolen surrogate.

The Duchess of the Lake has my sister.

About the Author.

AMY EWING lives in New York City. Visit her online at www.amyewingbooks.com or on Twitter @AmyEwingBooks.

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