“The papers lie all the time. Just last week, a train cart was blown to pieces on its way to the city.”
I swallowed, trying not to look too surprised, lest someone around us notice.
After a considerable silence, Polly said, “Do you ever imagine that perhaps the idium got it all wrong?”
A few nearby wallflowers were staring now, their ears pricked. Several paces away, Theodore’s father, Lord Shop, caught my eye.
He turned his cane in our direction.
“Shh,” I warned, snatching Polly’s hand. I ushered her sideways. “Outside. Come on.”
We wove through the throng and escaped through the open doors, our heads ducked and faces turned away. Gardens stretched out before us, neatly hedged and haloed in golden light from hundreds of torches speared into the flower beds. The music of the party se
