“All right: these are the rules,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Rule one: no one sees you. Adrian will have the place tented and fumigated if someone says there are mice, and I refuse to explain that to my parents. Rule two: I know unquestioning obedience isn’t your thing, but I need it. If I say hide, you hide. If I say run, you run. Understand?”

“We understand!” squeaked the mice in unison.

“Good.” Now for the hard one. I took a breath. “There can be no cheering, no chanting, and no audible celebration of any kind.”

The mice looked appalled. “But . . . but Priestess,” protested the mouse with the bag. “How are we to keep the catechism, if we cannot cheer for you?”

“Find a way,” I said. “If you get caught, I won’t be able to protect you. Especially not when we’re at the theater.”

Dominic gave me a curious look. “How did you manage the first time?”

“I took one mouse, because no one knew what sort of situation I was walking into, which meant I needed to have my ‘black box,’ but I wasn’t trusted to take even a splinter colony,” I said. “She’s older now. She’s one of the heads of my priesthood, and she was very sorry when she wasn’t able to come with us.” She was also one of the only mice I recognized on sight, thanks to the amount of time we’d spent together. Brave and foolish and funny. I missed her.

One of the tragedies of the Aeslin is that while their lives are much longer than the lives of ordinary mice, they’re still so short. The mouse that was young and vital only three years ago was now solidly middle-aged, and no longer as eager to risk herself in the big, bad world outside the temple. Besides, she had a congregation to run, and dance classes to teach, since dancing was a large part of the rituals inspired by my time on Dance or Die. Watching Aeslin mice do the cha-cha was definitely an experience.

“We will try,” said the spokesmouse, looking miserable. “Is it the only way?”

“It is the only way,” I confirmed. “If you get caught, we’re in trouble, and if you make noise where humans can hear you, you’re going to get caught.” Maybe I could convince Brenna to let the mice use her dressing room for any necessary rituals. She wouldn’t be shocked by their existence, and I was in a unique position to ask for favors, given the situation. I wouldn’t ask for anything that would give me an advantage in the competition—there was being smart about my resources, and then there was being a jerk—but helping the mice didn’t fall under that category.

“We Shall Obey,” said the mouse. All three had flat ears and drooping whiskers, and looked so miserable that I felt bad about silencing them. Sadly, I didn’t really have a choice.

“You can raid the craft table if no one sees you,” I said. That perked them up a bit: their ears lifted, and one of them gave a muted cheer. I pointed to my backpack. “Hop in, and don’t get tangled in my wig. I’m going to need to put that back on pretty soon.”

“Hail!” chorused the mice, and scurried into the backpack.

When I looked up, Dominic was watching me wistfully. “You’re going, then?”

“I’m going.” I picked up the backpack and stood, moving to kiss him briefly before I said, “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know it whenever you’re away,” he said. “Be astonishing, Verity. Be the amazing, impossible, infuriating woman I married, and steal the show from all those other dancers.”

“Remember to vote for me,” I said, and stepped onto the edge of the roof, and off, and fell.

The Be-Well Motel was a rare thing for the area: a freestanding building with nothing directly connecting to the structure. Below me, the alley used for storage and employee parking beckoned like a dangerous asphalt river. If I fell that far, I’d never dance again, but I’d make an attractive smear on the pavement until the infrequent Southern California rains washed me away.

That wasn’t going to happen. When I’d fallen far enough to gather the momentum I needed, I grabbed the ledge of the building and braced my feet against the brick, pushing off as hard as I could. The muscles in my thighs bunched and released, launching me across the alley toward my target: the billboard we’d so carefully positioned ourselves behind. For a moment, I hung weightless and suspended in space, my mind stretching out that fraction of a second until it felt like a year. Then gravity remembered our unfinished business and yanked me down, pulling me in a hard arc toward the back of the billboard.