I give him a fierce grin and a matching one spreads across his face. Usually I’d want to lie low in a new group. I never had any desire to be the favorite kid in the house, but this is different. This potential rivalry feels good because there’s something I want to win—and someone I’d be happy to step over to do it.

Lucius stands and makes his way behind the magicians still seated at the table until he stops in front of one of the apprentices on the pedestals—a pale girl with two strawberry blond French braids that reach her waist. She springs a bouquet of pink carnations from her sleeve and floats it in the air in front of her. The next person wears a sky-blue leotard stitched with swirls of gold thread, and it looks so stunning against their warm brown skin that I feel self-conscious again in my simple green pants. I forget about my discomfort when they do a series of flips and spins on that tiny platform. They’re only centimeters from one wrong step sending them plummeting. The moves wouldn’t be that impressive on solid ground, but on a one-foot square? They must be using magic. Unfriendly Barry goes next, making a pair of cards flap above his head like one of Reina’s birds. I’d be pleased that his was the worst so far if my stomach weren’t sinking with the surety that my coin trick’s going to be even less impressive.

The next one stares forward and does nothing until a sharp slap rings out and a cool smile spreads across the boy’s face.

A few people gasp.

“What happened?” I ask Ethan. I’d rather talk to Willow, but there’s another girl between us.

Ethan shoots me such a nasty glare that I’m surprised when he actually answers. “He’s a mentalist. He made Lucius smack himself in the face.” There’s a trace of awe in his voice. “Mentalists are rare. It takes an incredible amount of power.” He gives me a look. “We should both be worried.”

But Lucius is waving his hand and the two men who flanked him before lumber over and grab an older man from the chair in front of where the mentalist just performed. They pull the man up by his shoulders, and one of them twists his hands around his back.

“Edgar,” Lucius says. “What a shame you brought a dud after so many years.”

The old man says nothing. He just looks tired.

But the woman sitting beside him leaps to her feet. She’s older too, with long, tangled, graying blond hair that falls to her waist. “Everyone in this room felt that magic,” she hisses.

Lucius is silent for a long moment.

Nobody says a thing. Nobody backs her up.