Not wearing a coat, I shivered in the chilly night air, but I didn’t care. At least out here it was clean air and—a cloud of smoke blew straight into my face.

“Chocolate brownies! So much for fresh air,” I exclaimed through a cough. I used to have the vocabulary of a drunken sailor, but after being scolded numerous times by my parents, I now censored myself.

Smoke hanging around him like a toxic grey cloud, there was Adrian Ambrosia, Kris’s cousin. He was the first guy I’d ever had a crush on. He looked at me for a moment, puzzled, as if he was trying to recall who I was.

“Seriously?!” It may have been a few years since I’d last seen him, but I liked to think that he would remember me. At least my first name, anyway.

He did better.

“Avery Montgomery?” He winked.

“Yes. The one and only.” Being on the receiving end of his smoke waste had piqued my annoyance to the point where I almost forgot that seeing him here at Court during the Gathering was actually really weird. “What are you doing here?”

Two years ago, Adrian’s love had taken a tragic turn, and Kris told me that he had sworn never to set foot back here as a result. He thought he’d found his soul mate—his girlfriend, Marsela Costas—and came to the ceremony believing that soon they would have the click, validating their relationship. To his utter shock, she’d clicked with a Russian guy she’d never even met before. Adrian wanted to ignore the gods and begged to continue their relationship. Still, despite all the promises they had made to each other beforehand, Marsela broke up with him and moved to Russia, carrying the proof of her betrayal inside her belly. From what I’d heard from Kris, he hadn’t had a serious relationship since. Adrian’s heartbreak was a harsh reminder that nothing was certain until the day the Fates decided it was.

Adrian ignored my question, put out his nearly finished smoke, then reached into the pocket of his designer pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit the end of a new cigarette with his lighter. As he squinted against the flame, I took the opportunity to check him out. His emerald-green sweater matched his eyes perfectly, and a pair of black jeans hung on his hips. Adrian was still as good looking as he had been four years ago. No wonder my fourteen-year-old self crushed on him. Of course, he had never noticed me because he was completely head over heels for Marsela.

“Do I pass inspection?” Adrian asked. The lighter closed with a snap of his wrist, and he stuffed it back into his pocket along with the rest of the pack of smokes.