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This time, I hear the shift in the music that indicates a change of partners. It still doesn’t prepare me for the damn spin. The Tower releases me and I stumble my way into another set of arms. This one is significantly less welcoming. The Fool crushes me to his chest, holding me too tightly. He doesn’t have the same grace as Death and the Tower, and he tramples my feet as we turn. “Give me some fucking space,” I snarl.

“Poor little Moon.” He laughs. “My alliance is coming for you tonight. I’m going to have fun ripping you to pieces.”

I try to jerk away again, fail again. Panic flutters in my throat, for all that we’re on a dance floor surrounded by people. I can’t do this. It’s bad enough to dance with the man responsible for my mother’s execution, but to do it with one actively threatening me is a step too far. I knee the Fool in the balls. He goes down with a stifled groan, and all the Cups near me step back with gasps of shock and the music stutters to a halt. Because I just attacked another champion while the Sun is still in the sky. Fuck.

I take a quick step back and hold up my hands. “He’s fine.” My voice shakes despite my best efforts. I can’t believe I just did that. I’ve come so far, am so close to everything I’ve spent my life training for …

Ace appears at my side as if from thin air. “Champion Moon, kindly refrain from physical violence before nightfall.” He watches the Fool climb heavily to his feet and nods, almost to himself. “I see no permanent harm was done, which is the only reason this is a warning and not an elimination. A second chance will not be offered. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin and provoke me. If Ace had declared me eliminated, there’s not a single thing I could have done but die. “I’m sorry for the disruption.”

“It’s nothing at all.” He motions to the musicians. “Please, continue.” They pick up right where they left off. After the slightest hesitation, the other couples on the dance floor do the same. But they’re paying closer attention to me now, their gazes crawling across my skin. Ace smiles, all charm and poise. “Please honor me with a dance, Champion Moon.”

I don’t have a choice. Not after my violent misstep. “Of course.”

Ace is the best dancer so far. He weaves us through the others with grace. On our second turn around the floor, he finally speaks. “You are a bit of an anomaly.”

I take a breath and then another, trying to push down the emotions that spiked in response to the Fool. “So I keep hearing.”

He laughs a little. “I can only imagine.” Ace sobers. “It’s not my place to give you advice, so I won’t. I’ll just ask that, should you move forward to become a member of the new Cinque, you’ll remember the grace the Cups Court gave you tonight.”

This, at least, makes sense. He made a split-second decision in the wake of my attack, weighing mercy in favor of potentially benefitting the Cups. Except … “You could be asking that favor of the Fool right now if you’d played that a different way.”

“I could.” Interest alights in his dark eyes. “He won’t be among the winners. He’s too impulsive, and his alliance is already fracturing.” Ace jerks his chin to where the Emperor is stumbling through an approximation of the dance, visibly drunk. “You, on the other hand, are unexpected in many ways. It may be interesting to see what you do if you’re fortunate enough to become a member of the Cinque and, by extension, the Concilium.”

I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I force a smile. “I’ll remember. I promise.”

“Good. Now get ready, we’re about to switch partners.”

Another music change, and I’m in Cato’s arms. I glance at his dark brown chest and stumble over his feet when I see the gold rings through his nipples. I hadn’t noticed them before. Or how nicely muscular his chest is. Damn him. “You.”

“Me.” To his credit, he doesn’t try to use his size to intimidate me. He just waits for me to adjust to the change in partners and takes up his stance. “You’ve been busy tonight. That was a close call with the Fool.”

I jerk my gaze to his face, but that’s not helpful, either. He’s too damned handsome, for all that he irritates me. He smells good, like the kind of spices I’ve never been able to afford. Good enough to eat. If it weren’t a bad idea in a dozen different ways, I might lean in to inhale deeply. “You saw that.”

“Everyone saw that.” His expression goes contemplative. Kind of like it did when we exchanged words outside this tower earlier. As if maybe he underestimated me.

He speaks before I can decide how I feel about this new awareness between us. “Death and the Tower both seem interested in you. An alliance forming, perhaps?”

With them? As if I could trust Death, knowing how he turned on his last alliance. I laugh in Cato’s face. “No one wants an alliance with the Moon. Wasn’t it you who said Their last champion went mad?”

He swings me around, his touch light but firm on my waist and hand. “I did say that, but things have changed in the last twenty-four strikes. You’re interesting. The others have noticed the same.”

What in the gods’ names is going on? I understand Vesper reaching out, at least in theory. They’re playing the numbers game and looking for an alliance that might complement their powers. Luck and magic focused on stealth could be a deadly combination—if I trusted them. And they have a point about neither of us being desirable as allies to the other champions.

Cato doesn’t have that problem. He’s an enforcer for the Chariot, part of a built-in alliance before the Trials ever commenced. “Is the Chariot truly so concerned that he sent his errand boy to investigate?”

His grip tightens on my hand. “I am not in an alliance with the Chariot. I loathe him.”

“A convenient claim to make me underestimate you.” I glare up at him. “You might not be from the Dregs, but you’re close enough to know how these things work.”

“Enlighten me,” he grits out.

This is all a waste of time, but until we switch partners, I’m stuck with him. “I know you think me a fool, but give me some credit for surviving this long. The weakest member of the group pulls in marks, giving them a convenient story and asking for help. The moment the mark follows that member to an isolated location, the rest of the group jumps them. If they’re lucky, they only get robbed. If they’re not…” I shrug as well as I can while dancing. “No one is that lucky in the Trials.”

Now he’s glaring right back at me, his anger a warmth I can actually feel against my skin. “That kind of ploy requires subtlety and cleverness—both things the Chariot lacks. He literally tramples his enemies and laughs while doing it. He likes his victims to see him coming. He revels in it. He would never pull the kind of plot you’re suggesting.”

Maybe. Maybe not. All the information Mouse gathered about the Chariot suggests Cato is telling the truth, but tonight has more than proven Mouse didn’t have all the information. If he didn’t know Death was from the Dregs, what else doesn’t he know?