“Is that what you think?” Caterina replied, a hint of a smile at her lips. Then she turned and swept away, her regal exit only slightly ruined by the way she swayed unsteadily on her feet.

A chilly breeze whipped over the rooftop, raising goose bumps on Jaya’s arms as she watched Caterina merge back in seamlessly with her group of friends. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated with Caterina LaValle.

Grey

Mr. Martinez knew how to get their attention, all right. He had one of the only classrooms in the science building that opened out onto a balcony, and he used it to his full advantage. Every day since school began, he’d had them put their chairs outside—once even when it was thirty-five degrees. He claimed the brisk breeze and fresh air kept students paying attention longer, especially today, the day before the trip to Aspen.

It was working for everyone else. They were all more engaged, leaning in to Mr. Martinez’s demonstration, whatever it was. The man was the world’s biggest introvert—he wouldn’t even make eye contact going up or down the stairs when you said hi—but get him talking about physics and he got extremely animated, almost lively.

Grey looked toward the horizon, at the heavy snow clouds doing their best to smother the mountains. Without his explicit permission, Grey’s eyes stole across to Jaya—and the pendant at her throat. It had been a little more than a month since the mixer, and although he’d been holding his breath, no other rubies had fallen. It was like they were waiting, biding their time.

Jaya Rao continued to try to advance their friendship, but he still hadn’t been able to figure out why. He kept her at a distance, though. It was for the best.

Now the rubies glinted in the muted light of the colorless day, their red shine searing his retinas. They were mocking him. His fingertips dug into his thighs. The pendant knew who he was; it knew he was near. It knew.

“…allowed me to pull the tablecloth off without disturbing the bowls? Mr. Emerson? Grey?” A pause. “Or do you only answer to Lord Northcliffe?”

Grey blinked, vaguely aware that he was supposed to do something, that everyone was staring at him and tittering. Jaya turned to look at him and he found himself meeting her gaze, tinged with concern at whatever she saw in his expression. After a pause, she made an urgent motion at him—eyebrows raised, nodding her head, gesturing with her hand—but he had no idea why. He felt weirdly detached from everything, as if he were an onlooker watching a train hurtling toward a cliff and its inevitable conclusion.