Lucius looks like he wants to drag me around at his side all evening, but other magicians are beginning to notice. Magicians who don’t know who I am. At least I don’t think they do. I don’t know anymore.

After a long moment, Lucius drops my arm and strides away without another word. The sudden absence of cold burns even more.

Roman places a hand at my elbow, pulling me through the crowd a little too fast. My feet slide in my heels.

“Slow down,” I hiss.

“Sorry. I don’t like the way people are staring.” He scans the crowd. “Where the hell is Xander?”

“That’s what I want to know.” I can’t believe it. There’s no way they’ve been watching me. He’s wrong. He’s got a bunch of troupes at his disposal. Maybe he forgot who he assigned me to.

A soft, caressing music blossoms from the band. People begin swaying together, and I understand why Lucius made us all wear shades of blue. Everything becomes swirls of wind pushing against water, the ebb and the flow of the tide captured on a ballroom floor. I pass Willow, twirling with a handsome Black guy in a sapphire suit. She raises her brows in question. I shake my head to tell her I’m fine.

Roman reaches the door and opens it.

“It won’t be much longer.” Aristelle’s voice reaches me before Roman pulls me through the doorway.

Roman stops guiding me forward, and I careen into him. He stares at my face with such intensity it takes me a moment to look away from him. To see what he’s seen.

Xander presses Aristelle against the wall, his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, the other clutching the folds of midnight-blue silk at her waist.

My mouth opens and closes like a fish onshore—one second away from being gutted.

She sees me first, freezing with her hands on his chest. Regret fills her face—whether for me or for being caught, I can’t really tell. I don’t care.

She gives Xander a light shove away from her.

“What?” He grins down at her like it’s a game.

She shakes her head and looks away.

Finally, he glances up.

“Ava.” His eyes widen. His hands tighten on Aristelle’s dress and then drop away as if he’s been burned. I hope he really was.

I stagger back a step, jerking my arm from Roman’s tight grip just as Xander moves toward me. His gaze trails over me from head to toe and back again, like he’s assessing each twitch of my muscles—a hunter wondering if his prey will run or stand still long enough to receive an arrow in the throat.

I bolt.

CHAPTER 29