Now he does make eye contact with me. “Go around,” he says like he couldn’t care less that I’m being inconvenienced. He wears a smug smile and his voice is confident. His platinum hair reflects the candlelight above.

From farther down the table Aarya leans back to get a good view. Ines gives me a sympathetic look.

I stare at Brendan. “Or, you could literally move over a foot and push in your chair so I can get to my dinner,” I say. I could try to squeeze past him, but it would be tight and if he shifted his weight and knocked me over, I would fall into the table and probably land on a strategically placed knife.

He considers my suggestion. “Nah, I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

So much for not starting a fight.

I exhale, scanning the room for an alternative solution, and find none. “Since we’re going to be here for a minute until you decide eating is more interesting than blocking my path, what should we discuss?” I say in a relaxed voice. “The weather, sports…or your friends helping Conner kill other students? Which makes me wonder, how were you involved in Stefano’s death, Brendan?”

Brendan smirks. “Not bad. Not bad. But I was thinking more friendly chitchat.” He glances to the side to make sure the people near us are listening. “Maybe I should wish you well on your trip.”

Aarya is practically falling out of her chair to listen.

My heart thuds. He knows.

Brendan scans my face. “Oh, you thought that was a secret?” He laughs. “Just another reason you’re going to fail.”

I’m not sure whether he means I’ll fail to find my father in time or fail to retaliate against the Lions or maybe both. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

“It’s odd,” I say, outwardly dismissing his comment. “No one in this school saw me coming. No one thought I would be any good. And yet I keep beating you at every turn. Does that mean I’m that good? Or you’re that bad?”

His smirk suggests he knows something I don’t. “Maybe you’ll last a week…if you’re lucky.”

“I’ll take that bet,” I say, doing my best to convince him and the onlookers that I’m not worried. “You’re in the running to be the head of the Lions, right? And technically we’re cousins. So does that mean I’m also a contender for the throne? Or whatever you power-obsessed Lions like to call it?”