Cissy lets out a low groan. “I got nothing.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Myla. I’m new to this diplomacy stuff. The tradition excuse was all I had.”

Panic rips through me. Sitting next to a bunch of girly-girls for who-knows-how long? I’ve lived this nightmare a few times at school. They’ll want to talk about stuff like eyelash extensions, panty liners, and cuticle cream. It’s torture.

Cissy tightens her grip on my arm. “Let’s make a run for it. This tournament is a whole lot of dumb, anyway.”

Run for it? That sounds like a great plan. I’m about to say ‘yes, yes, yes’ when I catch Adair’s gaze. Her mouth rounds into a self-satisfied smirk while her left eyebrow quirks with a look that says ‘I knew you’d crack, you lowly form of life.’

I freeze. A challenge lurks in her eyes, and I’m always up for a challenge. Straightening my shoulders, I plaster on a wide grin. “I’d love to join you, oh Scala Heir.”

Her nasty smirk collapses into a disgusted sneer. Nice. “How wonderful of you to join us.” Adair gestures to the open chair besides her. “Please, sit here.”

I turn to the trio of girls surrounding my best friend. “Take good care of her or I will hurt you.” I chuck Cissy on the shoulder. “See you after the match.”

Cissy grins. “Go get ‘em.” Her escorts guide her away; I watch her meld into the crowd. Taking a deep breath, I re-plaster on my smile, walk up the steps, and take my seat next to the Scala Heir.

“Hello, I’m—”

“Miss Lewis,” finishes the Scala Heir. “We all know that part, silly.” She smiles and tosses her head, sending her long blonde hair in a perfect arc over her shoulder. “And you know me. I saw you at the ceremony.”

Yeah, when you were calling me a lesser form of life. What’s changed since then? My face warms into a genuine grin. That’s right. I held my own against all those Lords. Now I’m getting a little thrax respect.

“Let me introduce you to everyone else.” Adair gestures to a girl sitting next to her in a purple gown. She’s bone-thin with olive skin and a strong jaw. Her long brown hair is held back in a net of purple beads. “This is Lady Gianna from the House of Striga.”

A familiar blonde head waves to me from the end of the row. “Hi, Myla!” I shoot a friendly wave at Avery. She bounces a bit in her seat. “Isn’t it great how Gianna and Adair are friends now? Typically, Acca and Striga hate each other.”