The elevator doors slid open and I was about to step inside when a hand caught mine, making my skin tingle in surprised delight, almost as if it had been longing for this contact.

“Montgomery,” Adrian drawled.

Last night’s dream surfaced, along with the connection and the sense of inevitability that I’d felt. I had to find out if those doors really existed somewhere inside the Royal High Court and were not just a concoction of my wild imagination. I must have had a strange look on my face, and Adrian being Adrian thought I was enchanted by his good looks.

“Like what you see?”

The elevator doors were closing. I pulled my hand away from his and reached out to hold them open. “Please,” I said as I stepped inside and stood next to him. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as charming as you think you are.”

It was a blatant lie and we both knew it.

“What are you doing here? Are you going down?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you got lost on your way to the Royal Quarters?”

“I’m going for breakfast. I had a late night. Looks like you did, too, Montgomery.”

“Sort of . . . more like really strange dreams. That’s why I’m running late. But I’m heading there now, before the . . . ephedrimos?”

Adrian laughed at my feeble attempt to remember whatever Awakened event was happening today. “Nice guess, but it’s astragaloi this morning.”

“Astragaloi? As in knucklebones? For real?” He had been staring intently at me the entire time. The elevator felt very small. And very private.

“Yes, for real. Astragaloi, or knucklebones as you Regulars insist on calling it, is a beloved tradition—it’s not only for little children. You’d be surprised how many Hellenicus have clicked with their soul mates while throwing jacks in the air and seeing how many they can catch on the back of their hands.”

“And this is meant to be fun?”

“Some people believe that winning a game of knucklebones foretells a destiny filled with true love.”

“Yeah. Right.” Hellenicus could be so superstitious. Maybe it made sense centuries ago, but not today.

“So.” Adrian raised one hand and scratched the spot above his ear, seemingly nervous all of a sudden. “If you’re not interested in knucklebones, do you want to have breakfast with me?”

Before I could reply, my stomach growled, giving us the answer we needed.

December sun poured through the tall windows of the dining hall, bathing the room with light. There were chandeliers above our heads and well-polished marble beneath our feet. A huge buffet was set up in the middle of the room and the last of the Hellenicus were finishing up their breakfasts. Kris wasn’t anywhere. It was so annoying that I didn’t have my phone! Court workers in immaculate but plain, dull-brown uniforms decorated only with the Royal emblem, stood with their backs glued to the wall, waiting to be of any assistance.