Her mother’s delight turned fast to a frown. ‘Don’t be daft, child. You’ll be with the King! Surrounded by guards! No harm will come to you.’

‘But I’ve only just got home and I’m not—’

‘Catherine. His Majesty has requested your presence at this most extraordinary spectacle. We will not disappoint him, will we?’

By which, Cath knew, she was asking if Catherine would dare to disappoint her.

She gave the slightest shake of her head.

‘As I thought. Now run along and put on something proper.’ Her sunshine smile was back as she turned to the King again. ‘You did say that you take your tea with milk, isn’t that so, Your Majesty?’

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Catherine turned towards the door. She dared one last look at Jest, but the only change was a tiny crease between his eyebrows. As if he sensed her attention on him, he sighed, slowly, but his focus stayed attached to the far wall.

As she headed up to change, Cath wondered which of them wanted to be there less.

THE CARRIAGE RIDE proved to be even more awkward. With Catherine and Mary Ann taking up two spots in the King’s barouche, the White Rabbit was forced to sit out with the footman, and he looked so forlorn about it Cath almost suggested trading places with him.

In the end, she wished that she had, as she was left crammed into a tiny vestibule facing the King and Jest on the other bench.

Luckily, the King seemed oblivious to the discomfort around him. He jovially carried on a solo conversation with prattle about the palace gardens and how he wanted a tree house once some of the trees got big enough to support it.

Jest’s eyes remained locked on the window, even though a curtain was pulled down over the view.

Cath found herself leaning into Mary Ann each time the King said something particularly annoying, and Mary Ann began doing the same, offering what silent empathy she could. Soon their shoulders were pressed so tight together Cath’s fingers had started to tingle.

She was grateful when they arrived at the theatre – an architectural marvel with seating that wrapped almost all the way around the stage, mimicking the shape of a human earlobe.

At the King’s arrival, a hand of Diamond courtiers flattened themselves on their bellies, making a carpet that extended to the theatre entrance, which was carved to look like two upright rabbit ears. The goggle-eyed footman assisted Cath and Mary Ann from the carriage.

Grabbing a sceptre from the driver’s seat, Jest led their group forward, hoisting the sceptre high. Before he had gone into the theatre, the great black raven swooped down from the sky and settled on top of the sceptre like a perch. Jest didn’t slow, but Raven did turn his head to glance back at Cath with his black, expressionless eyes. He dipped his beak towards Jest’s ear and said something Cath couldn’t hear. Jest shook his head sharply in response.

Catherine realized she was staring at him. She had hardly stopped staring at him since they’d left Rock Turtle Cove.

If Jest had looked at her once, she knew nothing of it.

The King, ever oblivious, offered his elbow and Cath took it, stifling her disappointment. Mary Ann followed behind, apologizing to the courtiers as she stepped across them.

The lobby was crowded with guests waiting to take their seats. Jest and Raven had already disappeared into the bustle as Catherine and the King entered and were met with bows and curtsies and so many congratulations they might already have been betrothed. Catherine did her best to look baffled when she received their well-wishes, earning plenty of baffled looks in return, but soon it became clear that she was losing this battle. After the King’s proclamation at the festival, all of Hearts believed them engaged, and there seemed to be little Catherine could do to dissuade those rumours here, at a theatre, on the King’s arm.

Overnight her life had become a whirlpool, sucking her below the surface.

They greeted Margaret Mearle, who looked smug and unimpressed that Catherine was now a favourite of the King, and the Duke, who tried to hide his envy at the King’s romantic success.

Cath realized she’d been so caught up in her own heart’s matters, she’d pitifully failed the Duke. He had asked her to help him win Margaret’s affections, but all she could think to do was to shake them both and order them to get over their pride and awkwardness before it was too late.

A hand suddenly grabbed Cath’s wrist, pulling her free of the King. She spun and was surprised to find herself staring into the gaunt face of Lady Peter, who held her more tightly than Cath would have thought she had strength for.

‘Do you have any more?’ Lady Peter said before Cath could get off a greeting. She was whispering, but it was almost as loud as a yell in the crowded space.

Cath ducked her head closer, not sure she’d heard right. ‘Any more?’

Lady Peter nodded, her eyes wide and bloodshot. She cast her gaze around the lobby before tugging Cath closer. Their faces were mere inches away from each other now, and Cath could see the yellow tinge of the lady’s teeth, the sharp edges of her cheekbones. There was a sheen of sweat on her upper lip.

‘Tell me,’ Lady Peter said, pleading. ‘Please tell me you have more. I’ll do anything, pay any amount—’ Her voice broke. ‘That is, I haven’t much money, but I can pay you in dirt and favours, or—’

‘Lady Peter, please. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Her voice dropped again. ‘The cake.’

Catherine gaped. ‘Pardon?’