“He almost won the last Hologis tournament,” she says as we descend. “Lucas beat him.”

We step out of the elevator, pass through the gate, and walk up the blue-lighted stairs to the entrance of Threshold Tower. The sun beats on my face the moment I step outside. It doesn’t help that the hot wind is whipping in every direction, drying my eyes and mouth. Glacia stares at the sidewalk, Michael rubs his forehead every few seconds, and Ellin and John wipe their cheeks on their shoulders. Even in the wind, I can hear John muttering to himself.

“That’s it,” Victoria says, pouting her lips at our obvious discomfort. “Drinks are on me.”

She takes us to The Shady Barchan, a restaurant that’s in line with the Hologis arena, one full block over. Victoria tells us this is her favorite place to eat, and I guess I can see why: the dining areas are open and well-lit, music floats through the air, and the waiters and waitresses all seem friendly. A waiter who recognizes Victoria seats us on the second level, next to a large window that wraps around the corner of the building. We order drinks and snacks to hold us over until the opening banquet.

In a flash, John jumps up from his chair and starts to hurry away. He stops and holds up a finger.

“Don’t leave. I’ll be back.”

“He’s been complaining,” Ellin explains as John swings down the balcony stairs and out of sight. “Complaining a lot.”

As we wait, Glacia forces Victoria into a question-and-answer session because she feels the need to ask every little thing that pops into her head. ‘How many people are there?’ ‘How many fleets?’ ‘What do you do?’ ‘What’s Chancellor Green like?’

Why can’t she just shut up and relax?

I prop my elbows on the table and stare out the window to distract myself. My eyes move with the traffic as the cars glide forward and stop, wait, and then glide forward again. One or two drop belowground to reach the Main Throughway, but most stay within the city. It’s curious, I think: Cornell’s Main Throughway runs through all the neighborhoods and to the center of Cornell, but it isn’t like that here. From what I can see, the Embassy’s Main Throughway is the least-traveled street in the entire city.

When John comes back, we suck down the rest of our drinks and leave the restaurant to suffer the heat for the remainder of the walk back to the Crown. Glacia tries to ask Victoria another question, but the wind and cars drown out her words, twice, so she resorts to staring around quietly.