My eyebrows winged up. “I thought he was dead?”

Lou frowned at me. “What gave you that idea?”

“Probably because Van told me so. Repeatedly.” In the brief time that we’d lived together, Van had probably mentioned her father’s unanticipated demise on no less than ten occasions. “I should have guessed it was false after she said he’d died tragically during a dance competition. Lost his footing trying to do the paso doble on the deck of a yacht and fell overboard. Said they’d never found the body, so technically he was considered lost at sea.” Come to think of it, Van had told the story with uncharacteristic glee. “I thought she was using humor to cope with her grief.”

“I wish he’d get lost at sea,” Lou grumbled softly, so only I would hear her.

I examined Van and Jules’s father. He wasn’t quite sneering, but he was stiff, refusing to look at anyone in the audience, giving the distinct feeling that they were all beneath him. And so were we.

The doors in the back shut and the meeting finally came to order. The Tribunal introduced themselves— Patrice Macklin, water elementist, followed by Elliot Woodridge, master arcanist, and lastly, Prisha Bhatt, animal mage.

After they introduced themselves, Prisha Bhatt addressed the courtroom. “We’re here to discuss whether or not Louise Matthews, apprentice switch for Family Familiar under Dr. Amihan Larsen, has broken the law by making a shapeshifter, one Declan Mackenzie, her familiar.”

The courtroom didn’t sound too shocked—most of the seats were filled with family and friends, but there were a few gasps. Suddenly, it felt like everyone, especially the Tribunal, was staring at us.

At me.

I didn’t like it.

It was too much focus, too many eyes on me, suddenly reminding me of other courtrooms, other trials. I wasn’t even sure what had triggered the memories—the crappy industrial carpet? The smell of too many clashing perfumes or the sound of Prisha’s voice as it echoed through the chamber? It didn’t matter—the effect was the same. My heart started to race, and I broke out in a cold sweat. Now it was my turn to jiggle my knee, trying to release the tension like Lou had in the car.

The fun thing about trauma was that sometimes you thought it had gone away, only to hit a little road bump and have it punch you right in the face. But if you’d spent years in therapy, like I had, your training can come back, too. I relaxed my leg. I took slow, even breaths. I couldn’t do anything about the sweating, it was an autonomic response. All I could do was try to calm down. But I wasn’t doing it fast enough. The Tribunal was openly staring now, making me feel like a bug under a microscope, and that just spiked my anxiety worse.

My leg started jiggling again. I was sucking in breaths like a pissed-off bull.

I heard Lou say something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. My brain was processing sound oddly. Anxiety was funny: you could logically understand what was happening and yet be unable to stop yourself from going through the steps anyway.