Evelyn came on Wednesday with a box.
Not a gift-wrapped box. A working box, the kind that held things that were meant to be used rather than displayed. She set it on the kitchen counter and stepped back and let Trisha open it.
Inside: a set of custom riding leathers, child-sized, in the dark blue Trisha had chosen for her helmet. Not a costume. Not an approximation. The real thing, made by the same craftsman who made Evelyn's own gear, fitted to precise measurements that Evelyn had obtained from Lucian's assistant without anyone knowing she had done it.
Trisha looked at them for a long moment.
Then she looked at Evelyn.
"These are real," she said.
"Yes," Evelyn said.
"Like yours," she said.
"Exactly like mine," Evelyn said.
Trisha picked up the jacket. Held it against herself. The
