EMBER’S POV

And my stomach drops, because there is no Mr Aster. But Merrilyn Aster does not drop her cover. Merrilyn Aster laughs.

It comes out of me sharp and bright and just this side of unhinged, the laugh of a woman who has never once in her gilded life been told no.

And I reach into my clutch and pull out the gold-cased phone Queenie bought for exactly this, and I hold it out to the pit boss like I’m doing him an enormous favour.

“You want to speak to Daddy?” I say sweetly. “By all means. Let’s call Daddy.” I’m already dialling, already smiling, already too loud. “I...