By the time Ash’s ventures bore fruit and Irimina invited us to tea, I’d almost scrubbed the scent of Faith’s perfume out of my pores. Just to be on the safe side, though, I donned my most severe, forbidding, governess-y dress, complete with my most severe, forbidding, governess-y expression. I didn’t know how much of a deterrent came from my outfit, my demeanor, or Faith’s own sense of self-preservation, but my lap stayed mercifully crewmate-free when we sat down in the Kinclaith parlor.

Draped over her usual divan, Irimina was contemplating the steam rising from her teapot. As she rose to pour for the guests, she drawled, “I have a job for you – if you’re free.”

“For you, always,” Ash replied promptly.

Faith gasped, as proud as a parent whose toddler had just started spewing classical verse. “You stole my line!”

With a dry smirk, he answered, “I’m learning.”

Wonderful. And here I was thinking that one Faith was already more than any crew should have to handle. Folding my hands demurely in my lap, I sighed quietly to myself.

Apparently Irimina felt the same way. Cutting through their nonsense, she steered us back to business. “I have a family friend, Brannon Keel. I’d like to do a favor for him.”

Based on that opening, the young nobleman had been too proud to reveal who really came up with the idea for the hostile casino takeover. Or maybe Ash had urged him to take credit. Whatever the reason, Ash and I gave Irimina matching blank, expectant stares. Faith was too busy investigating a blueberry scone to react.

“Do you know the Silver Stag in Silkshore?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I said neutrally.

As if dreading that our patron was about to confess family ties to its owner as well, Ash replied, “I do.” In the reluctant tone of one determined to do his duty, he disclosed, “It’s complicated, but I happen to despise it. It’s personal.”

Irimina looked as if she quite liked that response. She refilled my teacup, saying, “I need you to remove the proprietress, Helene.”

With an air of relief, he told her, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Faith, who was holding a cup of tea in one hand and a petit four in the other, gave him a very weird look.

Ignoring her with admirable determination, Irimina continued, “Brannon and I would both like it to look like an accident.”

At that, Faith’s entire face lit up like Spiregarden Theater on show night. “We’re very creative at coming up with accidents!” To emphasize that statement, she took a large bite of cake.

Irimina nodded appreciatively, acknowledging said creativity and all the impediments it had removed for her in the past. “And I’ve been impressed by your…accidents. However, in this case, I’m worried about the Hive’s attention. I’d like to keep my and Brannon’s names far, far away.”

Gulping down the mouthful of cake, Faith proclaimed mournfully, “I have an artistic spirit that just keeps getting crushed.” Then she sank all the way down on the sofa until her skirts rucked up around her knees.

Ash’s eyes, however, widened at the thought of a(nother) lucrative sideline for the crew. “Faith, do you teach drama classes?” he wondered out loud.

On the verge of sliding right off the sofa cushions, Faith dismissed it immediately. “I have no time. I’m too busy murdering people.” And preserving her dignity. Although that might have been a lost cause from the start.

Luckily, Irimina had already figured out how to deal with her. Leaning forward (and looking down), she suggested earnestly, “My dear Faith, is this not an opportunity to express your artistry?”

It worked. Faith perked right up. “Once again, you’ve slipped into my soul!”

Irimina smiled at her wryly before she looked over at Ash and me. “For the rest of you, I assume eight coin?”

Ash pretended to ponder the offer, and then in the tones of one granting a royal favor, condescended to propose, “May I suggest a reduced rate in exchange for a long-term stake in the establishment? Say, six coin plus one-third ownership?”

Almost without thinking about it, as if she too had already considered the issue and drawn a similar conclusion, she agreed. “Yes, I think that will work for everyone.”

“Then we will go practice our artistry,” announced Ash, rising from the sofa and leaving his tea untouched.

Hastily, I drained the rest of mine and eyed the little sandwiches, wondering if I could slip a couple into my pockets without anyone noticing. They looked like they’d be perfect for surveillance missions.

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” Irimina informed us grandly, and right on cue, the butler popped up to escort us to the door before I could practice my sleight-of-hand. Ah, well. At the rate Tess was funneling coin into our coffers, soon we’d be able to afford our own cucumber sandwiches.

Behind us, tea splashed into Faith’s cup. “Didn’t you want to hear ghost stories this time?” her sultry voice inquired, hinting at forbidden passions and trysts by moonlight.

I could practically hear Irimina’s smile. “Always, Faith. Always.”

“Then I have the perfect story for you!” Without even a pause for breath, Faith launched into a swashbuckling tale of how she was deserted by dastardly companions whom she would not name, right in the middle of a score. (I felt slightly offended by the implication that Ash and I would abandon her, even if I’d considered it once or twice – maybe especially because I’d considered it once or twice.) “They left me!” she cried passionately. “Can you imagine? They left me all alone to confront a massive, hunger-crazed, vicious ghost all by myself!” I heard a sharp intake of breath from Irimina and a rustle of fabric, as if she’d leaned forward in anticipation. “But then I saw a lovely young thing nipping at this slow, ponderous creature!”

“If miss would follow me, please?” interrupted a male voice. Clearing his throat, the butler gestured elegantly down the hallway and herded us politely towards the foyer.

Faith’s voice pursued us the entire way. “It couldn’t get enough sustenance! It was tragically wasting away! So together we planned and we schemed and we plotted to divide up the colossus and banish whatever we couldn’t eat or use into the void using my trusty lightning hook….”

The closing of the front door mercifully cut her off.

Instead of heading straight home, Ash and I lounged in the shadows across from the Kinclaith mansion and mimicked passing aristocrats in a friendly contest. After an hour of increasingly exaggerated drawls and boneless hand gestures, we finally saw Faith sashay down the Kinclaith front walk, brimming over with tea and cakes and bubbly good cheer.

“Oh, there she is,” commented Ash. Waving enthusiastically in an excellent imitation of the young nobleman who’d just rolled by in a shiny, goat-drawn landau, he called, “Hulloo! Over here!”

I tittered and rapped his arm playfully with a fan, replicating the mannerisms of the nobleman’s chic lady friend. “Oooooh, what a woooon-derful memory for faces you have!” Hmm, that wasn’t quite right. The angle of the fan needed work. I whacked him a few more times while Faith minced her way over.

She beamed at us beatifically, slipped an arm through each of ours, and tugged us down the street. As if continuing a conversation we’d been having all along, she quizzed Ash, “So, you’re more intimate with our target.” She drew out the “intimate” almost lewdly, but then spoiled it with a giggle. “Please elaborate on our elaborate plans for her creatively accidental demise!”

Ash needed no further provocation to regale us with trivia about Helene’s habits. “She worships a rival to That Which Hungers. There’s money in it – I’m sure of that.”

“It’s the Golden Stag, right?” I pointed out. “You’d expect there to be money in it.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure why Ash wasn’t a devotee himself.

Ash ignored that. “Helene never gambles herself. At her casino, the house always wins.”

Well, yes. What sort of gambling den would it be if the house didn’t rig the games? Once we took over, we’d do the same. Or rather, Brannon Keel would do the same, with copious guidance from Ash.

“Since we’ve established a theme for our modus operandi, I suggest that we target her through her vice.” Ash reclaimed his arm from Faith and waved it at the enormous plate-glass store windows on Goldcrest Avenue, Brightstone’s main shopping district. “She adores luxury. She squanders invaluable time shopping for silk gowns and fancy hats, or soaking in this spa.” He practically spat out the word, then cast a guilty glance in my direction. “It’s apparently Iruvian style. With rose petals.”

That didn’t sound like any bath I was familiar with, although my family didn’t exactly patronize the public watering holes of U’Duasha. We had our own tubs and pools, all lined with intricate mosaics of seascapes and fantastical creatures, thank you very much. “Do you know the name?”

“The Moon’s Embrace,” he answered.

I cringed.

“I know,” he agreed with a twist of the lips.

Faith clamped down on my arm. “But I like it!” she protested. “It’s so sentimental!”

Cloying, even. Speaking of cloying – weren’t there toxins that smelled and tasted sweet? “Can we poison her bath?” I asked Ash.

“Hmmm, probably. We could make it look like she drowned, or hit her head and then drowned…oh yes, I can just picture the blood swirling in the water with all the rose petals! If they’re the right shade, it would be so pretty!” Ash reigned himself in with an effort, aided by my incredulous expression. “Then again, Faith is the expert on artistry.”

The resident artist stared off dreamily into the distance. “I’ve pondered for years how to murder someone with rose petals, but I have yet to find an answer.”

Ash shrugged, back to his practical self. “It doesn’t have to be the spa. Helene also likes jewelry, gourmet food, and fine wine.”

By now we’d crossed into Charterhall and were strolling down Imperial Avenue, past all the government offices and their dirty marble facades. To the east rose Six Towers in a dark blur of ramshackle rooftops and bent chimneys. Recalling how we’d dealt with the Helkers’ coachman, I suggested, “We could poison her food. How about pufferfish? I hear it’s easy to die if the chef isn’t perfectly precise in their knifework.”

Ash mused, “Is there any way she could die from choking on stag meat?”

Not likely. I’d never seen a stag anywhere, not even in Captain Rye’s Menagerie. I wasn’t even convinced the creatures existed.

Faith piped up with a surprisingly sensible idea. “We could blame it on the mother of a gambler. Ah, mothers. They can hold a grudge for decades.”

“And you would know this how?” I asked.

She just winked.

All the way down Imperial Avenue back into Coalridge, we ran through a panoply of options. They ranged from Helene plummeting off a high platform (uncertain why she’d climb one in the first place), to getting injured and seeking treatment from a doctor who happened to be the parent of one of her debtors (too complicated). In the end, we settled on drowning her in the spa.

“Ah, I do approve of a more relaxing score!” Faith sighed happily.

“For us or for her?” I muttered.

She pretended not to hear. “Just drifting off to sleep in a bath and never waking up! What could be more luxurious?”

“There is wine that puts one into a deep sleep,” said Ash. “I’ll look into it.”

Flippantly, I remarked, “We can even make sure the color of the wine matches the rose petals.”

We did, in fact, obtain a bottle of carmine wine to match the carmine rose petals that Helene favored for her exotic, cultural-appropriating bath. Ash even splurged on a batch of petals made from gold leaf to scatter among the real ones.

It seemed, somehow, poetic.