“I need to tell you something,” I whisper. I tried to find her last night. She deserves to know what the stakes are, where her friend might be, but she wasn’t in her room. She was probably wandering the halls looking for answers.

She looks tired. Her eyes focus on me like she didn’t really hear what I said.

I open my mouth, but the boisterous crowd turns silent as Lucius stands. He claps. “Let the next trial begin.”

Nothing else. No other instructions. Even Ethan turns toward us with a frown, his hand fingering the handle of his gun.

Then the ground spins. I fall to one knee, cracking it hard enough on the marble to jar a curse from my mouth. Nadine calls my name as black fog swirls around us and then fades.

Maybe it’s better if I don’t tell her right now—processing what might have happened to her friend could distract her.

My own white face stares back at me, my curly brown hair hanging loosely just below my chin. My pulse throbs in my throat. Pulling myself to my feet, I leave my image behind, only to find my eyes reflected in thousands of tilting and angled mirrors making up the walls and ceiling. We can no longer see the audience, but I can feel them just on the other side like I’m a criminal in an episode of Law & Order, staring into the glass of an interrogation room, knowing my fate’s being decided.

The problem is, I don’t even know if I’m innocent or not. I know what waits for Ethan and Nadine should I win. At the very least, the knowledge makes me an accomplice.

Or I lose. Maybe Roman finds the solution he’s been looking for and frees me. Or maybe I never see Parker again.

Maybe he’s right and my winning will help him. Together we can break this system if I play the game to the end. I need to believe it.

Ethan’s cocky grin flashes in the mirrors.

I care less about his fate than Nadine’s.

In the center of the room, the glass floor shatters upward, the shards forming a jagged pedestal. A black top hat winks into existence on top of it. Magic curls off it, beckoning, wrapping around us until we move forward as one.

Ethan laughs, somehow excited by all this. “Going classic.”

Nadine’s brow furrows.

I glance around the room, finding nothing but our confused expressions.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Nadine crouches, studying where the top of the hat balances on the glass.

“Pull a rabbit from it, of course,” Ethan says.

“I can make myself a rabbit,” Nadine suggests, straightening.

“We need to take a rabbit out, not put one in.” Ethan rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be a dick,” I say.

He shrugs. “I’m just trying to help.”