He laughs harder, shoving his rejected hand into his pocket. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Why do you think you’re here?” he asks.

“To steal the truth for the good of humanity…”

Liam presses his lips together and approaches me. “That’s cute.” Leaning in, he smells my hair.

Totally confused, I freeze, sneaking a peek at Garrett. His head is cocked to the side, his eyes faraway and flitting back and forth like he’s working out some intense calculation.

“Mmmm. Vanilla? Brown sugar? You smell like a girl,” Liam says.

I have no words.

“Don’t be weird, Liam,” Chloe says.

“Where did your parents find her?” Liam asks Garrett, rejoining them.

Garrett focuses on my face, and I dare to meet his gray-green stare. It’s like being lost at sea—his eyes beg me to sink into their depths—and a fresh wave of dizziness washes over me.

“Don’t ask me,” he finally replies. “They don’t tell me anything. But she must be special.”

“I don’t get it,” Harbor says, speaking to them like I don’t exist, deceivingly sweet dimples appearing in her cheeks. “She’s not a legacy—she came out of nowhere.”

“Maybe she’s a spy.” Liam grins. “There’s nothing hotter than a spy. Especially a spy spying on the spies.”

“I’m not a spy,” I snap, holding my chin high.

“Shut up, Liam,” Garrett says at the same time. “My parents know what they’re doing. I’m sure Ellie deserves to be here. She’ll show us what she’s got.” Shrugging, he turns to go. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

Chloe snakes her arm around his waist as they retreat.

“My name is Elisha,” I say to his back, ignoring that he defended me.

He glances over his shoulder and smiles, sending a bolt of electricity straight to my toes. Is it just me, or does he feel this crackling energy, too? “See you around, Ellie.”

My temper flares. Watching them go, I beg my heart to sever whatever connection it believes it has to him.

I don’t care what he thinks.

Dropping to my knees, I turn the dial—12-16-6—and open the trapdoor. Careful to avoid the slippery moss, I climb down the stone steps and shut myself inside. I’d love to get lost in the Prado right now, to soothe my frazzled nerves by stealing Las Meninas, but I’m meeting Allard to recap my first day.

“You’re late,” she says when I arrive in the Musée de l’Orangerie. She’s waiting in the oval-shaped gallery lined with Monet’s Water Lilies.

“I’m sorry. I had a run-in with Chloe and company,” I reply. Chloe’s name is bitter on my tongue. “She said I couldn’t influence my way through training. Do you think she recognizes me?”

“No.” She pats the bench next to her, and I sit. “If she did, she would’ve outed you already. She’s fishing for info. I guarantee her reaction is because you’re new. She’s probably afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me? Why?”

She thinks for a minute. “Part of disconnecting means severing pride, but thieves are a little different. Pride is our currency. We don’t steal for ‘the stuff’ of it—it’s about having anything we want—getting there first. We’re competitive. Your presence at Keystone is highly unusual. The faculty were told you’re a gifted thief with potential, and the students know an exception was made to allow your admission, but not the specifics. I’m sure that’s cause for speculation. They assume you’re greatly talented—and therefore a threat.”