Lord Samos is the last to stand, and when he does, a hush falls. This man commands respect, even among titans. Though his black robes are plain, trimmed with simple silk, and he has no great jewels or badges to speak of, he has the undeniable air of power. I don’t need Maven to tell me he’s the highest of the High Houses, a person to be feared above all others.

“Volo Samos,” Maven murmurs. “Head of House Samos. He owns and operates the iron mines. Every gun in the war comes from his land.”

So he’s not just a noble. His importance comes from more than just titles.

Volo’s toast is short and to the point. “To my daughter,” he rumbles, his voice low, steady, and strong. “The future queen.”

“To Evangeline!” Ptolemus shouts, jumping to his feet next to his father. His eyes blaze around the room, daring someone to oppose them. A few lords and ladies look annoyed, angry even, but they raise their cups with the rest, saluting the new princess. Their glasses reflect the light, each one a tiny star in the hand of a god.

When he finishes, Queen Elara and King Tiberias rise, both of them smiling at their many guests. Cal gets up as well, then Evangeline, then Maven, and after one dumb moment, I join them. The many houses do the same at their tables and the scraping of chairs on marble sounds like nails on a stone. Thankfully, the king and queen simply bow and walk down the short set of steps leading away from our high table. It’s over. I’ve made it through my first night.

Cal takes Evangeline’s hand and leads her after them, with Maven and me bringing up the rear. When he takes my hand, his skin is shockingly cold.

The Silvers press in on both sides, watching us pass in heavy silence. Their faces are curious, cunning, cruel—and behind every false smile is a reminder; they are watching. Every eye scraping over me, looking for cracks and imperfections, makes me squirm, but I cannot break.

I cannot slip. Not now, not ever. I’m one of them. I’m special. I’m an accident. I’m a lie. And my life depends on maintaining the illusion.

Maven tightens his fingers in mine, willing me onward. “It’s almost over,” he whispers as we near the far end of the hall. “Almost there.”

The feeling of being smothered passes as we leave the feast behind but the cameras follow us with heavy, electric eyes. The more I think about it, the stronger their gaze becomes, until I can sense where the cameras are before I see them. Maybe this is a side effect of my “condition.” Maybe I’ve just never been surrounded by this much electricity before, and this is how everyone feels. Or maybe I’m just a freak.

Back in the passageway, a group of Sentinels waits to escort us upstairs. But then, what threats could there possibly be to these people? Cal, Maven, and King Tiberias can control fire. Elara can control your mind. What could they fear?

We will rise, Red as the dawn. Farley’s voice, my brother’s words, the creed of the Scarlet Guard, comes back to me. They attacked the capital already; this could even be their next target. I could be a target. Farley could hold me up in another hijacked broadcast, revealing me to the world in an attempt to undermine the Silvers. “Look at their lies, look at this lie,” she would say, pushing my face into the camera, bleeding me red for all the world to see.

Crazier and crazier thoughts come to mind, each one more frightening and outlandish than the last. This place is making me insane after just one day.

“That went well,” Elara says, snatching her hand away from the king when we reach the residence floors. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least. “Take the girls to their rooms.”

She doesn’t direct her command at anyone in particular, but four Sentinels break off from the group. Their eyes glitter behind their black masks.

“I can do it,” Cal and Maven say in unison. They glance at each other, startled.

Elara raises one perfect eyebrow. “That would be inappropriate.”

“I’ll escort Mareena, Mavey can take Evangeline,” Cal offers quickly, and Maven purses his lips at the nickname. Mavey. Probably what Cal called him as a boy and now it’s stuck, the emblem of a younger brother, always in shadow, always second.

The king shrugs. “Let them, Elara. The girls need a good night of sleep and Sentinels would give any lady bad dreams.” He chuckles, tossing a playful nod at the guards. They don’t respond, silent as stone. I don’t know if they’re allowed to talk at all.

After a moment of tense silence, the queen turns on her heel. “Very well.” Like any wife, she hates her husband for challenging her, and like any queen, she hates the power the king holds over her. A bad combination.