I expected to find my usual T-shirt and cargo pants, but Oscar had put out a tight, sleeveless, sapphire-blue top, along with a pair of fitted black pants and matching heels. Apparently, he wanted me to dress up for dinner. I grumbled again, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him, so I put on the clothes with one substitution. I ditched the heels in favor of black sneakers.

I’d already dried my hair, so I plopped down in front of the vanity mirror and pulled my black locks back into a sleek ponytail before sticking two black lacquered chopsticks through it. The thin sticks might look like innocent hair accessories, but they were far more useful, since the hollow wooden tubes featured a set of lock picks. My star-sapphire ring completed the ensemble, along with my silver Sinclair cuff.

When I finished, I headed over to the table next to the patio doors where Oscar’s pixie house sat. Most folks would have thought that the ebony trailer was some sort of dollhouse, despite the fact that the roof was missing several shingles, the porch sagged like a wet newspaper, and several tiny honeybeer cans littered the front steps. A grassy yard led over to a corral and a barn, also made out of ebony, making the entire table look like a diorama of some western dude ranch. Rustic, people would say, if they were being kind.

Behind the fence, Tiny, Oscar’s pet tortoise, was lying on his back, his green legs sticking up in the air as he snoozed the day away in a sunspot. Tiny cracked open a black eye at the sound of my footsteps, but when he realized that I didn’t have any lettuce or strawberries, he went back to his nap. I tickled one of his feet, making him snort and rock back and forth on his shell before he settled down again.

The trailer’s front door slammed open again, and Oscar hopped down the creaky porch steps and strutted out onto the lawn. He held his arms out to his sides and turned around.

“Well?” he drawled. “How do I look?”

While I’d been getting dressed, Oscar had been doing the same. His sandy mop of hair was slicked back under a black cowboy hat, and he wore a pair of new, creased black jeans and a white button-up shirt with black trim, along with his usual cowboy boots. I squinted. Were those black pearl buttons on his shirt? Probably, knowing Oscar.

“Nice,” I said. “What’s the occasion? And why did you make me dress up too?”

He grinned. “You’ll see. Bet you can’t beat me to the dining hall!”

Oscar zipped over to the bedroom door, opened it, and flew away before I could answer him.

I looked at Tiny. “Have you been feeding him sugar again?”

The tortoise just snorted again.

I went down to the dining hall, which was one of the biggest rooms in the mansion. Tall, skinny windows lined the back wall from floor to ceiling, showing off the deep, dark evergreen woods that surrounded the mansion. Sunlight streaming in through the glass made the chandeliers overhead sparkle even more than usual, the crystals painting rainbow patterns on the black-and-white Persian rugs that covered the floor. Long tables that could seat more than thirty people each clustered together in the middle of the room, while still more tables were set up along one of the walls, each one covered with food.

I headed straight for the buffet tables to see what the pixies had whipped up tonight. Their excellent home-cooking was one of the best perks of living at the Sinclair mansion. Tonight’s menu was one of my favorites—grilled steak with horseradish mashed potatoes and a summer salad of ripe tomatoes, crunchy cucumbers, and tangy red onions that the pixies grew up in the greenlab. I heaped a plate full of steak, potatoes, and salad, along with dates that had been stuffed with gorgonzola cheese and wrapped in bacon, which was my absolute favorite food. Bacon made everything better.

A guy swaggered up next to me. “You gonna leave some of those for the rest of us?”

My fingers curled a little tighter around the tongs I was using to pick up the dates. “Vance.”

“Lila.”

Vance Groves was one of the top Sinclair guards with Talents for both speed and strength. At twenty, he’d already been serving the Family for a couple of years. Vance patrolled down on the Midway, and he was one of the few guards who actually enjoyed strutting around in the cheesy black cloak and feathered cavalier hat, both of which he was wearing right now. He thought that the ren-faire gear made him look oh so dashing, and he was absolutely right about that. With his golden hair and blue eyes, Vance was seriously handsome, something he took great pride in. He was always posing for photos with the giggly tourist girls—and then slipping them his phone number afterward.

Vance also thought that he was the best fighter in the Family, something I’d disproven over and over by disarming him every time we sparred together. Vance didn’t like anyone beating him at anything, especially not a newbie recruit like me, and he went out of his way to annoy me every chance he got.

Vance sneered at me, snatched the tongs out of my hand, and started piling the bacon-wrapped dates onto his plate.

“You don’t want to do that.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“You’re watching your weight, remember?” My voice was oh so kind but loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Good for you, trying to get rid of your potbelly. Not to mention that male pattern baldness that’s starting to set in. But hey, the hat covers that up, right?”

Vance’s eyes bulged with anger, and his mouth dropped open, but only strangled syllables escaped.

I gave him a sweet smile, slipped the tongs out of his hand, and piled the rest of the dates onto my plate so that he would have to wait for the pixies to bring out another tray.

I slapped the tongs into his chest. “Later, Vance.”

His fingers fisted around the utensil like he wanted to brain me with it, but I was already grabbing a glass of sweet iced tea and striding away.

I put Vance out of my mind and carried my food over to the table where Devon and Felix were sitting, along with a tall, muscular man with onyx skin and black hair peppered with silver threads. Oscar was hanging out with some of the other pixies at a table next to the windows.

Devon and Felix were dressed in nice shirts and black pants, just like me, but the man was a completely different story. He sported white linen pants and a lime-green Hawaiian shirt patterned with exploding volcanoes spewing scarlet lava. The garish combination of green and red made him the most colorful thing in the room. White flip-flops covered his feet, while a white straw hat was hooked on the back of his chair.