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“This way.” He spins easily without losing hold of me and places my hand in the crook of his arm. “We were all surprised you took the position of the Moon’s champion.”

“I gathered that from the shocked looks on everyone’s faces.” Damn it, I can do better than this. Ace may be a reminder of all the privilege baked into the very framework of the Minor Court districts, but if—when—I become one of the Cinque, I’ll have to deal with people like this all the time. “I wasn’t aware the last Moon’s fate had such … longstanding implications.”

He nods sagely. “Superstitions tend to abound when it comes to the old gods. That’s why their worship has fallen off.”

I blink. “It’s interesting that you say that during the Trials themselves, which are designed to honor the gods. You walked the same streets I did earlier. The crowds suggest worship hasn’t fallen off.” Their cheering for the gods’ champions isn’t the same thing as what Mara does with the Wheel, but I don’t like how dismissive he is.

Ace’s tone stays bright. “Here we are. You may enjoy refreshments and conversation before the dancing begins.” He deposits me neatly in my chair, somehow managing it without manhandling me.

I lift my gaze, only for my breath to stop in my lungs. Ace couldn’t have provided me with a better opportunity if he’d tried: my table companions are none other than the Star, Death, and a Garnet. The Garnet is a man with light brown skin, brown hair, and an easy bearing about him that says he engages in this kind of politicking regularly.

This is the closest I’ve been to the Star, and I’m not remotely surprised to find she’s beautiful in an ageless kind of way. Her pale skin is almost artificially smooth but for a few faint lines at her eyes and mouth and forehead, and her short blond hair is so perfectly styled it doesn’t look real. She wears a gown of nearly transparent layered fabric in a wide array of copper tones. It’s frothy and completely impractical for the task that lays ahead of us once darkness comes.

“Don’t look so dour, Death.” Even her voice is carefully curated, any sharp edges smoothed away. It seems a waste of effort considering her audience, but what do I know? The Star smiles sweetly. “Let’s not scare away our new Champion Moon.”

Death ignores her and takes a long drink of his wine, red enough to stain his pale lips bloody. The Garnet leans back in his seat and raises his brows. “I don’t think much is going to rattle this champion.” He studies me with interest. “I was in the crowd yesterday when you stood up to claim your spot. It took some brass balls to walk all that way with the entire arena staring at you. And for that god?” He makes a show of shuddering, but almost like it’s delicious. “You’re not one to be taken lightly.”

“He’s right, dear.” The Star pats me on the shoulder. “That was very brave of you.”

This is so strange. The Star will happily see me dead once the Sun sinks below the horizon, but in this moment, she’s smiling as if we’re the best of friends, even if her expression is on the condescending side.

I clear my throat. “Thank you?”

But she doesn’t appear to need much to keep the conversation going all on her own. “You do clean up well, don’t you? They say you’re a Dreg Rat, but that can’t be possible. We so rarely get Dreg Rats in the Trials.”

“Star.” Death doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even look at her. But the warning in the single word is clear all the same.

She widens her eyes dramatically and presses a dainty gloved hand to her pink-painted lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, is Dreg Rat a derogatory term? I don’t make it into the Dregs often, so I had no idea.”

I stare at her. She might be playing coyly innocent right now, but she’s one of the fucking Cinque. The Dregs is part of the city they’re supposed to be ruling and caring for. Not that any of the Cinque ever seem to remember that.

“Are you trying to insult me?” I’m genuinely curious. Does she think I should be ashamed of where I come from, of what people call us? The people up on the hill—both Minor Court and the guilds—should be ashamed of their waste of resources. The Star should be ashamed of how little she’s done to help anyone but herself.

She flinches back, once again her reaction far more dramatic than necessary. “Why would you say such a thing? Of course I’m not. I’m just trying to make dinner conversation.”

I know what Mouse would say, how he would urge me to keep my head down, to do whatever it takes to ensure these people underestimate me. Looking around the table, I don’t think I have to try that hard. We’re doing our best to survive the city they created and the rules that only seem to apply to us, and they laugh at our struggles behind their perfectly manicured hands.

My nails are torn and ragged, and not even the cleaning magic in the Moon’s temple can fully remove the dirt embedded there. They call us rats as an insult, but rats are one of the most resilient creatures in this world. They shouldn’t underestimate the Dregs. They shouldn’t underestimate me.

I swallow down my instinctive response. No matter how privileged and irritating this woman is, she was one of my mother’s allies. I can’t let those answers die with her in the Trials the same way they did with Judgment last night. “You seem to have done well for yourself as a member of the Cinque.”

“I work very hard,” she says flatly. Apparently I just insulted her. Damn it.

“You do,” the Garnet cuts in smoothly. “In fact, I was hoping to get a moment of your time to discuss the increased taxation the Wands want to put on all imports from Perphodia. It would annihilate the already-thin profit margins we get on gemstones. I know you’ve heard the same from the Diamond Guild about their metals. And the decreased imports will negatively impact the Peridot Guild as well.”

This is the first I’m hearing of a newly proposed tax, but that’s not surprising. We usually see the effects of the policies enacted by the Concilium after the fact. It is interesting, however, that he’s pleading his case to the Star now, during the Trials. Vesper is right; they really do think she’ll make it back into the Cinque.

She smiles prettily. “Come now, you know better than to talk policies during the Trials. The next Concilium will meet with a brand-new Cinque. It would be the height of arrogance to assume I’ll be among their number.”

The Garnet smiles right back as if sharing an inside joke. “You are terrifying in your powers, Star. Only a fool would bet against you.”

I can’t tell if he means it or not. Neither one of them is paying me the slightest bit of attention. I turn back to find Death apparently still engrossed in the same glass of wine, despite the fact he doesn’t appear to have drunk any more of it. Why isn’t the Garnet making his pitch to Death as well as the Star? He’s just as likely to make it to the end as she is—more so, given his alliance with the Tower.

Death looks up suddenly, catching me with his eerie onyx eyes. “You seem confused, Champion Moon.”

“I—”

“He’s not pitching me because my thoughts on the new tax are already well-known. I agree that it would negatively impact two of our main industries, and as such, shouldn’t be enacted.” He speaks slowly, methodically. “The Star, on the other hand, is a puppet of the Cups Court, and so a plea to her is indirectly a plea to the King and Queen of Cups.”