Evangeline scoffs at me, brushing off the insult. “Only children take Protocol.”

To my surprise, the queen takes my side. “Lady Mareena has grown up under terrible circumstances. She knows nothing of our ways, of the expectations she must fulfill now. Surely you understand her needs, Evangeline?”

The reprimand is calm, quiet, and threatening. Evangeline’s smile drops and she nods, not daring to meet the queen’s eye.

“Luncheon today will be on the Glass Terrace, with the ladies of Queenstrial and their mothers. Try not to gloat,” Elara adds, though I never would. Evangeline, on the other hand, blushes white.

“They’re still here?” I hear myself ask. “Even after—not being chosen?”

Elara nods. “Our guests will be here for the coming weeks, to properly honor the prince and his betrothed. They won’t leave until after the Parting Ball.”

My heart plummets in my chest until it bounces around my toes. So more nights like last night, with the pressing crowd and a thousand eyes. They’ll ask questions too, questions I’ll have to answer. “Lovely.”

“And after the ball, we leave with them,” Elara continues, twisting the knife. “To return to the capital.”

The capital. Archeon. I know the royal family goes back to Whitefire Palace at the end of every summer, and now I’m going too. I’ll have to leave, and this world I can’t understand will become my only reality. I’ll never be able to go home. You knew this, I tell myself, you agreed to this. But it doesn’t hurt any less.

When I escape back into the hallway, Lucas ushers me down the passage. As we walk, he smirks at me. “You have watermelon on your face.”

“Of course I do,” I snap, wiping at my mouth with my sleeve.

“Lady Blonos is just through here,” he says, gesturing to the end of the hall.

“What’s the story about her? Can she fly or make flowers grow out of her ears?”

Lucas cracks a smile, humoring me. “Not quite. She’s a healer. Now, there’s two kinds of healers: skin healers and blood healers. All of House Blonos are blood healers, meaning they can heal themselves. I could throw her off the top of the Hall and she’d walk away without a scratch.”

I’d like to see that tested, but I don’t say so out loud. “I’ve never heard of a blood healer before.”

“You wouldn’t have, since they’re not allowed to fight in the arenas. There’s simply no point in them doing it.”

Wow. Yet another Silver of epic proportions. “So if I have, um, an episode—”

Lucas softens, understanding what I’m trying to say. “She’ll be just fine. The curtains, on the other hand . . .”

“That’s why they gave her to me. Because I’m dangerous.”

But Lucas shakes his head. “Lady Titanos, they gave her to you because your posture is terrible and you eat like a dog. Bess Blonos is going to teach you how to be a lady and if you light her up a couple of times, no one will blame you.”

How to be a lady . . . this will be awful.

He raps his knuckles on the door, making me jump. It swings open on silent, smooth hinges, revealing a sunlit room.

“I’ll be back to bring you to lunch,” he says. I don’t move, my feet planted, but Lucas nudges me into the dreaded room.

The door swings behind me, this time shutting out the hall and anything that might calm me down. The room is fine but plain with a wall of windows, and totally empty. The buzzing of cameras, lights, electricity, is vibrantly strong in here, almost burning the air around me with its energy. I’m sure the queen is watching, ready to laugh at my attempts to be proper.

“Hello?” I say, expecting a response, but nothing comes

I cross to the windows, looking out on the courtyard. Instead of another pretty garden, I’m surprised to find this window doesn’t face outside at all, but down into a gigantic white room.

The floor is several stories below me, and a track rings the outer edge. In the center, a strange contraption moves and turns, spinning round and round with outstretched metal arms. Men and women, all in uniform, dodge the spinning machine. It picks up speed, twirling faster, until only two remain. They’re quick, dipping and dodging with grace and speed. At every turn the machine accelerates, until it finally slows, shutting down. They’ve beaten it.

This must be some kind of training, for Security or Sentinels.

But when the two trainees move on to target practice, I realize they aren’t Security at all. The pair of them shoot bright red fireballs into the air, exploding targets as they rise and fall. Each one is a perfect shot and even from up here, I recognize their smiling faces. Cal and Maven.