Her smile widened, pearly perfect teeth. When the aspect came over her she would have delicate little fangs. “Like a baby. I was just sitting here with darling Kir, hoping I could see you before you

start orientation.” That smile was absolutely perfect, and it was kind of like looking at Christophe. I

wanted to check for loose threads and stand up straight.

Except Christophe would never look at me like this. Not even the first moment I met him, when he

drove Ash away and told me to go home. I’d thought he was a sucker then, and he didn’t scare me

half as bad as this.

And that’s saying something.

How weird was it that this blonde bit of cheerleader was more terrifying than a gruesome death by

sucker? It just goes to show my priorities were all whacked-out. It might’ve been all the excitement

lately.

She scared me because I’ve seen her type all over the country. And if you’re not scared when they

grin at you, or when they act friendly, you haven’t been paying attention and you deserve everything you get. Still, some of them are okay, just thoughtless and irritating without any real malice.

My jury was out on Anna’s malice level. But I’m cautious when it comes to things like that. I

learned really quick that Dad didn’t understand girl cruelty. He understood when I got into fights,

but if I came home sobbing after a run-in with a girl, where only words were exchanged . . . well, he

didn’t get it.

Anna’s baby-blue gaze swung over, settling above my left shoulder. “And that must be Mr. Graves.

My, aren’t you the handsome one? If I had a space free on my Guard, I might almost break with tradition and offer you a Trial challenge.”

Trial challenge? What? Probably some djamphir thing. I could ask Benjamin. Or Leon.

Just as soon as I got out of here.

Kir stiffened. He’d looked handsome in the Council room, but he was pale and his skin gleamed

slightly. Was he sweating? That was weird.

I heard cloth moving—Graves was still in his long black coat—and the crinkle of paper and cellophane. Then, my God, the click of a lighter and a long inhale.

He was smoking. “That’s assuming,” he said quietly, “that I’d take it.”

Kir’s hands hit the tabletop, and he made as if to push himself up. The aspect folded over him, fangs

sliding free and golden streaks spilling through his short hair, and I braced myself. I actually drew

myself up as tall as I would go and stared at him.

There was no way I could match a djamphir past his drift, let alone one old and powerful enough to

be on the Council. Still, I heard Dad’s voice, way back from the time before my whole life had