Caterina twirled a lock of hair around a slender finger, the tip of which was doused in pale purple nail polish. “She said that royal families still wield a lot of power in India and even beyond its borders. They’re well respected.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Caterina leaned against the doorframe, the fabric of her gown rustling with the motion. She could’ve been posing for Teen Vogue’s “Dorm Chic” issue. “I know you’re new here, Jaya, but I want you to know something. I always take care of my friends.” She waved an insouciant hand, and her perfume wafted to Jaya. It was something soft and clear, petals drenched in dew. “Ask Sri Devi if you like. I’ve helped her out of a jam or two, and she’s done the same for me. It can be really helpful, having friends who care.”

Jaya met her calculating eyes. She’d known people like Caterina LaValle before. They dealt in the currency of tit for tat; their world ran on you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours. When one was wealthy enough to buy nearly anything, favors and good graces became a much more valuable currency. But best of all for Jaya’s purposes, they usually had their fingers on the pulse of wherever they were, and the uncanny ability to feel secrets fluttering under the thin skin of normalcy. Caterina LaValle, Jaya was sure, could be a very, very helpful ally indeed. Or a formidable enemy. She smiled her most PR-friendly, royal smile. “Any friend of Sri Devi’s is a friend of mine.”

Caterina grinned and leaned forward to air-kiss her. Jaya returned the favor. “Excellent,” she said, pulling back to hold Jaya at arm’s length. “I know we’ll get on famously.”

“Caterina must’ve really liked you,” Penelope said, that same note of awe in her voice once they were back in Jaya’s room. “She isn’t usually so welcoming.”

“We share a mutual friend,” Jaya said vaguely, putting her shirts away in her dresser. Her heart sang. She was taking all of what had happened so far—Grey Emerson attending St. Rosetta’s and Leo, Rahul, and Daphne Elizabeth asking her to sit with them at breakfast on Thursday—as extremely good omens. It was as though the universe were conspiring to help her bring Grey Emerson to justice. Jaya thought of herself as a logical, practical person, but she couldn’t help seeing omens everywhere she looked. It was part of growing up in an Indian family. She thought again of the ruby falling and dismissed it. She couldn’t afford to get negative now.

“Knock, knock!” Isha stood at the door, grinning. “Oh. Hello,” she said to Penelope. “I’m Isha, Jaya’s sister.”

“Hello!” Penelope said, holding out her hand.