But their pointed smiles and narrowed eyes don’t look welcoming at all.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” I clear my throat, trying to sound normal, and the girls don’t miss the action, exchanging glances. “You also participated in Queenstrial?” I say quickly, hoping to distract them from my terrible social graces.

This only seems to incense them. Sonya crosses her arms, showing sharp nails the color of iron. “We did. Obviously we were not so lucky as you or Evangeline.”

“Sorry—” comes out before I can stop it. Mareena would not apologize. “I mean, you know I had no intention of—”

“Your intentions remain to be seen,” Sonya purrs, looking more like a cat with every passing second. When she turns, snapping her fingers in a way that makes her nails slice along each other, I flinch. “Grandmother, come meet Lady Mareena.”

Grandmother. I almost breathe a sigh of relief, expecting a kindly old woman to come waddling over and save me from these biting girls. But I’m sorely mistaken.

Instead of a wizened crone, I’m met with a formidable woman made of steel and shadow. Like Sonya, she has coffee-colored skin and black hair, though hers is shot with streaks of white. Despite her age, her brown eyes spark with life.

“Lady Mareena, this is my grandmother, Lady Ara, the head of House Iral.” Sonya explains with a pointed smirk. The older woman eyes me and her gaze is worse than any camera, piercing straight through me. “Perhaps you know her as the Panther?”

“The Panther? I don’t—”

But Sonya keeps talking, enjoying watching me squirm. “Many years ago, when the war slowed, intelligence agents became more important than soldiers. The Panther was the greatest of them all.”

A spy. I’m standing in front of a spy.

I force myself to smile, if only to try and hide my fear. Sweat breaks out on my palms and I hope I don’t have to shake any hands. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Ara simply nods. “I knew your father, Mareena. And your mother.”

“I miss them terribly,” I reply, saying the words to placate her.

But the Panther looks perplexed, tipping her head to the side. For a second, I can see thousands of secrets, hard-won in the shadows of war, reflecting in her eyes. “You remember them?” she asks, prodding at my lie.

My voice catches, but I have to keep talking, keep lying. “I don’t, but I miss having parents.” Mom and Dad flash in my mind but I push them away. My Red past is the last thing I should think about. “I wish they were here to help me understand all this.”

“Hmm,” she says, surveying me again. Her suspicion makes me want to leap off the balcony. “Your father had blue eyes, as did your mother.”

And my eyes are brown. “I am different in many ways, many I don’t even understand yet,” is all I can manage to say, hoping that explanation will be enough.

For once, the queen’s voice is my savior. “Shall we sit, ladies?” she says, echoing over the crowd. It’s enough to pull me away from Ara, Sonya, and the quiet Elane, to a seat where I can breathe a little sigh to myself.

Halfway to Lessons, I begin to feel calm again. I addressed everyone properly and only spoke as much as I had to, as instructed. Evangeline talked enough for both of us, regaling the women with her “undying love” for Cal and the honor she felt at being chosen. I thought the Queenstrial girls would band together and kill her, but they didn’t, to my annoyance. Only the Iral grandmother and Sonya seemed to even care that I was there, though they didn’t push their interrogation any further. But they certainly will.

When Maven appears around the corner, I’m so proud of my survival at lunch that I’m not even annoyed by his presence. In fact, I feel strangely relieved, and let a bit of my cold act drop. He grins, coming closer with a few long strides.

“Still alive?” he asks. Compared to the Irals, he’s like a friendly puppy.

I can’t help but smile. “You should send Lady Iral back to the Lakelanders. She’ll make them surrender in a week.”

He forces a hollow laugh. “She’s a battle-ax that one. Can’t seem to understand she’s not in the war any longer. Did she question you at all?”

“More like interrogate. I think she’s angry I beat out her granddaughter.”

Fear flickers in his eyes and I understand it. If the Panther is sniffing around my trail . . . “She shouldn’t bother you like that,” he mutters. “I’ll let my mother know, and she’ll take care of it.”