Xander and Aristelle both say no at the same time they each grab a side of my chair and tug it toward the table.

“Do not make a scene,” Xander says.

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Ava,” Reina says softly. “If your mom was one of us, then she left.” She pauses and shakes her head. “Lucius doesn’t take kindly to deserters of his cause. He may hold it against you in the competition.”

I’m not sure I care. I might trade everything for one good story about my mom and the life she had before—the stories she would have shared with me when I was older. Those lost stories are gaping holes in me, and now there’s someone who can fill some of them just a short walk away.

“Please.” It’s the pleading in Xander’s voice that stops me. He sounds scared. “Win first. Don’t risk this.” I look at him as he waves his hand between himself and the rest of the troupe.

This. He means a future with them. If I go searching right now for my mom’s stories, I risk losing the potential stories I’d have on my own. Do I want to give up my future for a tiny glimpse of the past?

I lean back, and everyone around me relaxes.

The meal is nothing short of amazing. Platters of food instantly materialize in front of me, waiting long enough for me to decide whether to take what’s offered or not before winking out of existence, another plate appearing in its place. I end up with a steak sprinkled in rosemary, buttered asparagus, and roasted beets. I’ve never actually had beets before, so I take a bite of them first, savoring the sweet, unusual flavor before letting my knife sink into the steak. A basket of rolls appears in front of me, and I grab one before they disappear again. Butter leaks out of the center. I tear into the roll, and it drips down my chin so fast I have to snatch the black napkin from my lap and wipe it off.

I glance around to see if anyone noticed. Xander’s slicing into a chicken breast, and Reina’s taking dainty bites of mashed potatoes. Roman’s watching me, though, with a faint smile on his face. At least it looks like a smile from this distance. It’s hard to say, and he doesn’t seem like one for smiling. I’m not sure why he’s still bothering to watch me anyway. He didn’t get his way. I’m here. It’s too late to scare me off.