Isha’s clear brown eyes pierced hers, and Jaya knew she was on quicksand here. She had to think fast or she’d sink in a pit of her own lies. “Because I… I don’t think it’s right to judge people based on what their family’s done. You know that.” Ugh, that was really weak. Perhaps she wouldn’t make a great spy after all.

Isha stared at her, her mouth slightly open. “Are you joking?” she said finally. “That’s literally your personal slogan. ‘You are your family and your family is you.’ Isn’t that what you always say?”

Although impressed that Isha had actually been paying attention all those times Jaya lectured her, Jaya knew she was in a crisis moment. There was no way she could tell Isha the truth—that she wanted to make Grey Emerson fall in love with her so she could break his heart. Isha would never understand. So, instead, Jaya made something up on the spot. “All right, all right. The truth is… the truth is I’m keeping him close. Trying to find out what he knows, et cetera.”

Isha’s face relaxed, and with it, Jaya’s shoulders. “Oh. That makes sense.” She paused, nibbling on her lower lip. “And? What does he know?”

I don’t know! Jaya wanted to say. It’s maddening. The guy’s either the best actor I’ve ever seen or literally the most clueless human on the planet.

But which was it? If past Emerson behavior was any indication, it would be the former, no question.

Jaya did her best to smile in a reassuring big-sister way. “Don’t worry, Isha. I’ve got it all under control.”

Later that week, Jaya sat in Daphne Elizabeth’s giant papasan chair, working on her Latin vocabulary, while Daphne Elizabeth sprawled out on her bed, a mad mess of notebooks and pencils and textbooks and papers all around her. They’d been studying for about thirty minutes when Daphne Elizabeth sat up and looked at Jaya, a pencil tucked behind her ear. “I’m bored,” she said, reaching into her bag to get out a stick of gum. After offering it to Jaya, who shook her head, she popped it into her mouth.

“Hmm,” Jaya said. “I suppose we could take a quick break.” She got up and stretched, then sauntered over to Daphne Elizabeth’s desk. There was a picture of her and Alaric in a group of people taped to the wall, and under it, a stack of books and picture frames filled with photographs of Leo, Rahul, her parents, and even a horse. “That’s a beautiful horse,” Jaya said.

“That’s Polly,” Daphne Elizabeth said, smiling fondly. “She’s a Clydesdale. The high point of my year is when I get to go home and ride her.”