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Instead of arguing, I move through the coins, letting them brush against my exposed skin and the thin fabric covering my body. They’re warmer than I expected and smell earthy in a way that doesn’t make sense. I’m still trying to decide if the scent is pleasant or not as I take in my new surroundings.

The low building isn’t open the way the Cups tower was. I stand in a small entranceway with two doorways leading to shadowed halls. Vesper catches my eye and motions for me to follow them and the other champions. The hallway is significantly more open than the passageway in the Cups District, but it still makes my skin crawl. Maybe the other champions can enjoy the richness of the wood—wood—walls, but I’m too aware of how difficult it would be to fight in such a tight space.

It’s ironic that I was worried about my sickles not having enough reach. Since the first night, I’ve been more concerned about fighting in close quarters. With Cato in our alliance, I might not have to fight much at all. Another change to the original plan Mouse had. I wish I could talk to him, could sift through the friction between what we expected and what the reality is. Surely he’d have some good ideas to implement, some advice that might make me feel more grounded and in control. But Mouse might as well be in Xiv, across the Coeruleus Sea, for all I have access to him right now. I can’t make it to the Dregs and back without risking missing the sixth-strike deadline—or leading the other champions to the people I care about most.

It’s not worth the risk. I’m on my own, even if I sometimes forget that with Vesper and Cato at my side.

To distract myself, I look around as I follow the rest of the champions through a series of small rooms and short hallways. The walls are all made of wood paneling, which must have cost a fortune. Most everything in Caelria is made of stone. The oldest buildings were built using stone from the long-defunct quarry in the north part of the city. The newer stuff is brought down the Saevus River from Perphodia and, if the way the sailors bitch about it is anything to go by, it’s horrifically expensive.

The only way to get wood is by braving the wilds. It’s all but unheard of near Caelria itself, but some of the river settlements have small logging operations. It’s incredibly dangerous for a number of reasons, but maybe no more dangerous than living in the river settlements to begin with. Either way, they charge truly staggering sums for lumber. Those transport jobs pay better than most, but they’re not as sought-after because of the very real chance that a monster bursts from the wilds, slaughters the entire settlement, and then kills the crew for good measure. It’s happened before.

To have an entire building paneled with wood is an even more staggering display of wealth than the gems in the Cups tower were. My stomach is twisted in knots by the time we emerge into a banquet hall with a low curved ceiling and wide windows overlooking a gorgeous green courtyard. I start to gravitate toward the window, but get distracted by the long tables arranged in a square, each having a perfectly put-together place setting with a folded card, names written on them in flowing script—or at least our titles, in the case of the champions. We have assigned seats.

Vesper appears at my side, almost by magic, and it’s everything I can do not to jump. “You’re between the High Priestess and the Star.” They take my arm, turning me to face the window—and away from the rest of the room. The courtyard really is pretty, a wilder version of the garden I found the first night. I can almost smell the greenery; it looks much preferable to whatever I’m about to endure over dinner.

I sigh. “Great.” At least this time I know not to let the Star touch me. “Do you happen to know how extensive the Star’s poison is? Is it just touch or can she poison food and drink?”

“She’s never been flashy with her magic, so I’m not entirely sure.” Vesper grimaces. “But it’s not worth the risk to eat and drink around her.”

That’s what I was afraid of. She took the most direct route to poison me last night, but that doesn’t mean she’ll attempt the same method tonight. A door opens on the other side of the room and Pentacles stream out with large plates piled high with food in their arms. It smells really, really good. I ate earlier, but it’s amazing how quickly the body adapts to regular meals. I’m hungry. “They talk about the Pentacles’ bounty in the Dregs sometimes. It’s the stuff of legends.” No one I know has ever actually been to the Pentacles District or eaten the so-called bounty, but reality has never stopped a rumor before.

Vesper squeezes my arm. “I’ll save you a plate—a safe one.” They glance over their shoulder. “See if you can find any cracks in their alliance. The Star would be one of the easier champions to remove—if she’s alone.”

“Vesper, I am not the fast-talking member of our alliance. You and Cato are.”

“Try.” Then they’re gone, slipping away and around the tables to take a place between Death and the Chariot. A quick survey of the room finds that the Pentacles were incredibly intentional with their seating arrangement. No alliances sit side by side. This is going to be a long fucking meal.

Both the High Priestess and the Star are already in their places, chatting easily. Tonight, the Star wears a deep blue kaftan with tiny gems studded into it at irregular intervals, giving the impression of the night sky. It’s quite lovely, but I’ll choke on my own tongue before I admit it. She has her customary lace gloves in the same deep blue as her dress, stretching to the bend in her elbow, and her short blond hair is slicked back, leaving her face in sharp relief. She really is beautiful. It irritates me.

The High Priestess is a short woman with rich, dark brown skin so deep in tone that it has blue highlights. It’s impossible to guess her age—her skin is smooth and her dark hair free of gray, but she carries herself with a confidence that speaks to experience. Her hair is styled in short twists and she’s wearing a pale purple dress that hugs her petite body and a short, dark blue cape draped over her shoulders. Both pieces have intricate embroidery in a shade just darker than the fabric, the subtle texture abstract and beautiful. Like the Star, she’s gorgeous enough to set my teeth on edge. With their perfect skin and hair and complete lack of scars, the pair of them hardly look like real people.

The Star smiles sweetly at me as if she didn’t try to kill me just yesterday—before nightfall. As if she didn’t name me a Dreg Rat and then play the victim when she was called on it. “Moon. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“Star.” I nod and take my seat. With the way the tables are arranged, only the sides against the walls have seats, leaving a space in the middle of the room that everyone has a good view of. Or maybe it’s for dancing.

Save a dance for me.

I shudder and reach for the water before me, only to stop when I remember Vesper’s warning. I don’t know why being told not to do something instantly makes me want to do exactly that. Reaching for the glass was instinctive, rather than because I’m thirsty, but the moment I set my hand back in my lap, my mouth is suddenly parched and I want nothing more than to drink.

The Star laughs suddenly, the sound melodic. “Why so nervous, Moon? Do you think someone meddled with your meal? That wouldn’t be sporting.”

“Because you care so much about the rules.”

“Of course we do,” the High Priestess murmurs. She smiles, her dark brown eyes just as warm as the Page of Pentacles’. “Violating the rules of the Tarot Trials is a wonderful way to die.”

I don’t roll my eyes, but it’s a near thing. “Somehow, that’s not comforting in the least.”

“Your comfort is of no concern to me.” She turns to the food piled high on platters in front of us. Too much food, even for the number of people gathered. What will they do with the leftovers? Surely they won’t throw them away when there are people going hungry a handful of miles down the hill.

But I know better, don’t I?

The lights dim, saving me from salivating over the food in front of me that I dare not eat. The Page of Pentacles steps forward from somewhere. It’s all very dramatic. I squint, trying to figure out where he came from because I didn’t see him walk through the space between the tables. Maybe some clever machination in the deep shadows in that corner of the room?

“Please enjoy the hospitality of the Pentacles Court. Every bit of food on the tables in front of you was grown through the Pentacles’ sacrifice.”

Next to me, the Star snorts. “They love going on about their sacrifice, as if they haven’t figured out how to mitigate it almost entirely.”

Mitigate?