As I draw even with him, he reaches out and clasps my elbow. “I’m Ethan, by the way. I wouldn’t want to be rude and not answer your original question.” I pull my arm from his grip and keep moving.

“And Ava,” he calls over his shoulder, “you don’t have any friends here.”

I don’t look back at him, so he can’t see his words sinking into my gut like stones.

The immense desire to prove him wrong makes me smile at the next guy I see. My smile’s fake, of course, but that doesn’t mean it’s not friendly. He appears to be an apprentice as, like me, he seems underdressed, in light jeans and a button-up black shirt. Square black glasses are pushed up into the too-long bangs of his shaggy black hair, and his pale white skin glows as if it’s never met the sun. He looks like he belongs bent over books in a musty library.

He doesn’t smile back.

“I’m Ava.” I try not to cringe as I give my name out like I’m a friendly person. Where’s Willow when I need her?

“Barry,” he says before brushing by me.

At least there are people in this world who are less friendly than me.

I turn away, and my gaze settles on a regal girl in a green velvet cape draped over a dress the color of wet red dirt. Her bloodred hair makes her look like a goddess that’s stepped out of an enchanted forest. She looks like she belongs here too much to be an apprentice. She nods at me as she catches my stare, and I take that as all the win I need right now.

I press onward until I see Reina and Diantha both smiling warmly as I approach. Aristelle is sipping from her wineglass, but even she looks up and gives me a quick nod.

Ethan wasn’t wrong. Reina, Diantha, and Aristelle look like friends sitting together, but I’m not one of them. I barely know them.

Reina stands and pulls out a gold-plated chair for me to sit next to Aristelle. When I sit, the chair is warm, heated with magic, no doubt.

Diantha leans across Reina and Aristelle. “You look lovely.”

“I’d say the same to you, but it seems grossly inadequate.” She’s wearing green with an ivy pattern weaving down the planes of her skirt. The tips of the leaves are threaded with gold. She’s the mirror image of the table itself.

She nods at my sloppy compliment.

Xander walks up and perches in the seat beside me. His eyes are sharp as he twists to look around. “Any sign of Lucius yet?” His eyes rest on me when he asks the question, as if I should know who that is.

Aristelle shakes her head and takes a long drink from her glass.