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“Your warning is noted.” It defies belief that Cato is the one who seems the least on edge right now. He’s tense, but he’s not vibrating the way Vesper and I are. I don’t understand this man. Sometimes he seems fickle and like he doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone, and other times, he’s so intense I fear it will burn me.

The king and queen reach our tier and move to our trio of tables. Up close, I’m still having a difficult time guessing their ages. They seem older than I first thought, but not old enough for the years to have sapped their strength and bearing the way they have with Mouse.

“Welcome, champions. We are honored by your attendance to our humble court.” As the king speaks, I have to reevaluate her age again. There’s a quaver to her voice that only the truly old have, and the inconsistency with her appearance confuses me. She smiles serenely … until her gaze lands on our table. Something flinty appears in her dark brown eyes then, something … almost like hatred.

The queen shifts, drawing attention. “We’ve prepared a full afternoon of entertainment for you, but before that begins, the Wands Court would like the opportunity to get to know you better. While we have history with some of you, there are others who remain a mystery to us. Please indulge us.”

As if we have any choice at all. We’ve been pushed to partake in parties with the Cups and Pentacles, and there was plenty of mingling between those courts, the guilds attending, and the champions. How is this any different, other than the fact the king and queen actually showed up?

Apparently I’ll have my answer soon enough, because the king herself comes to our table. The queen moves to the table with Death, and the knight appears from wherever they were holed up and claims the table with the Star. I don’t see the page at all, which perhaps should be reassuring, but it only makes my skin twitch with warning. This is so odd. It doesn’t seem right at all.

The king steeples her knobby fingers before her thin lips. “You, my dears, are a problem.”

Next to me, Vesper doesn’t seem to be breathing. Cato, on the other hand, bursts out laughing. I can’t tell if he’s trying to pull the king’s attention to him, or if this is just how he deals with surprise attacks. He doesn’t give me the opportunity to find my feet, either.

Cato leans forward and props his elbows on the table. “We’ve heard that before.”

“A Sword, but not just any Sword. The Page of Swords.” She tsks. “If your mother was aware of this little plan of yours, there will be consequences for the overreach. It’s highly irregular.”

“You’ll have to speak with the Queen of Swords to discover what she did or did not know,” Vesper says stiffly. “I make my own decisions.”

But the king is already moving on, her deceptively sharp attention landing on me. “We’ve had nothing but trouble from those Cinque who originated from the Dregs. To have you here, claiming the same title as that Dreg woman executed for treason … It was a poor choice, girl.”

There’s something strangely comforting about having it all out in the open. Wands may be bastards, but apparently their unwillingness to play word games goes straight to the top of their hierarchy. No matter how careful the Cups and Pentacles were with me, this is the truth. I’m from the Dregs and, as such, they will always consider me beneath them, just like they viewed my mother. “Death is from the Dregs.”

She nods. “And he’s been a thorn in my side since becoming Cinque. I did not misspeak. I had hoped one of you young ones would remove him, but it appears to be less and less likely to happen as the Trials continue. Even so, I will not allow another one of your people in. Not again.”

Cato laughs again, even louder this time. “Too bad you don’t get a choice in who becomes Cinque. If you wanted one, you should have joined the Trials yourself, old woman.”

Her attention cuts to him. “Do you think you’re special? You’re the same as most of the other champions, someone born to nothing and determined to claw your way to what little power is available. You’re not unique, Sun.”

I expect him to bristle, but there’s a wild light in his eyes that worries me. “This conversation has been cute, but like I said—you don’t get a vote in who becomes Cinque. You’re wasting all of our time.”

The king just smiles. It’s so cold, I have to fight not to flinch away. “Ah, the folly of youth. You think you’re untouchable. That may be true in the most literal sense—it would be taboo in the extreme to harm any of the gods’ champions during the Trials. But none of you exist in isolation. Does that protection extend to those you care about, I wonder?” She tilts her head to the side, pretending to consider. “I suppose we’ll have to see.”

As threats go, it’s an effective one. All three of us still, tension rising with each inhale and exhale. As enforcers of the law, the Wands are everywhere in Caelria, from the Dregs to the very top of the hill. Their reach is not to be underestimated.

My stomach drops out. She’s bluffing. She has to be. Mouse is too smart to get scooped up by the Wands, and Pika and Quoll have learned everything they know from me. The littles are too small to do more than beg on corners, and even then, we work hard to ensure they don’t have to. And Mara is watching over all of them. There’s no reason to think the Wands would have the opportunity to touch my family. There’s no reason to think they could even find them.

Vesper, of course, is the one to break the growing silence. “This has been delightful, Dahlia—truly, the Wands know how to show hospitality—but I do believe we’re done here.” They push slowly to their feet. “I’m going to touch up my cosmetics.”

Dahlia rises as well. “If you survive the night, be sure to send your mother my regards.” She turns and moves to stand next to the Queen of Wands, each movement easy and smooth as if she didn’t just threaten us.

“Bitch,” Vesper mutters. They turn and walk away, following the curve of our tier toward a doorway. They seem to know where they’re going, but then, they always do. No doubt they have every nook and cranny of this arena memorized.

“That was fucked,” Cato says softly as we watch them slip through the door. “And effective. We all have people, and the Wands are as numerous as rats in this fucking city.”

He’s not saying anything I haven’t already considered but … I shudder. “Me and mine have spent our entire lives dodging Wands. The Dregs stretch the entire length of the wall. There is no reason to think she’d even know where to start looking for my family. She was bluffing.” I hope. I really, truly hope.

What if they know I’m related to the last Moon? I didn’t think her comment was that pointed, but I’m hardly as good at reading people as Vesper is. They said the Wands have a high turnover rate, but the king is clearly old enough to have witnessed the last Trials. I haven’t committed treason, haven’t done anything that would prompt someone to accuse me of being driven mad by my god, but if the Wands announced to the entire city that I’m the daughter of a traitor? My skin prickles. Cato and Vesper will drop me as an ally; they’ll have to. The remaining champions will all focus on eliminating me as quickly as possible. None of them will want to risk another mad Moon becoming Cinque—not even Death, maybe especially not Death. Surely he’s just biding his time.… I can hear my heartbeat in between each racing thought, stampeding in time with my rising panic. No matter how good my stealth magic is, I’m not infallible.

“My mother is as untouchable as someone who isn’t in the Minor Court or a guild can be in this city.” Cato offers the information almost tentatively, breaking me out of my spiral.

“What?” Despite the nervous sweat slicking down my spine, I sound almost normal.

“The Wands can’t get to her. The Chariot is paranoid in the extreme and locked all his concubines away for the duration of the Trials. No one will be able to reach any of them until the end of this. She’s safe. She has to be.”

I’ve heard rumor of the Chariot’s concubines, but his territory is on the other side of the city from my portion of the Dregs. I never had to worry about his people snatching one of mine off the street because they were a little too pretty. I registered what Vesper needled Cato with that first day in the carriage, and then his insistence that the Chariot needs to die, but I hadn’t fully considered the implications. His mother didn’t choose her fate. Neither did Cato. Now that I’ve met the Chariot, I’m surprised he let Cato live after he snatched his mother off the street. “That’s why you want him dead.” To protect his mother.