‘I feel faint,’ she said, sinking into her chair. ‘It must be the fumes.’ ‘I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such a dramatic evening before,’ announced Ansel. ‘And that includes the time Anika hurled an ice sculpture at my mother. There must be something in the air tonight.’ ‘Must be,’ said Wren, tightly. Then Rathborne groaned. She spun around. ‘Willem?’ He wrapped his arms around his stomach and began to retch. A wild, maddening hope took hold of Wren. ‘Are you feeling all right, Willem?’ ‘I … think … the … fizz … was … too … strong … for … me.’ ‘You only had the barest sip,’ said Ansel,
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