Alejandro. That’s who I need in my corner right now. He’s a riot at these things—and he usually sneaks in the top-shelf stuff from his father’s cellar. And he never leaves me to my own devices unless I want to be left alone. Right now, I don’t. But he isn’t occupying his usual haunts.

One of his friends—Rodrigo—passes by. I grab his sleeve. Rodrigo turns to me, an affronted look on his face before he sees who it is.

“Oh, Ana. Hello.” He smooths out the wrinkle that formed right above his elbow when I grabbed him. He’s a fastidious one. A little odd, but an offenseless quirk. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you there.”

I shrug. “I’m good at becoming invisible at these things.”

When he finally looks at me—really looks at me—his brow crumples with concern. “Oh, Ana, what happened to your face?”

I have a sneaking suspicion I will be fielding this question from everyone who isn’t too good to speak to me tonight. I shrug again and reach for the most convenient lie. “Lost a bet. Didn’t want to pay it. You know how it goes.”

A soft pink flush crawls across Rodrigo’s cheeks.

Oh, he knows. He knows very well. The reason Rodrigo is so nice to me isn’t because he’s Alejandro’s friend and I am Alejandro’s sort-of-sister and by the laws of polite society that means he’s required to treat me with at least a modicum of kindness. No, Rodrigo is nice to me because he once lost a bet of his own and was short the coin to pay it. Fortuna must have smiled on him because she saw fit to arrange for Kiki and me to be at the same gambling parlor that night. We handled it. Not with silver but with steel. He’s been gratuitously nice to me ever since.

I spare him the embarrassment of reliving that particular moment of his life. “Have you seen Alejandro?”

He shakes his head, frowning. “No. Not since you arrived.”

I grunt, releasing him. He scampers away, perhaps to avoid being seen with me. Can’t say I blame him. I probably wouldn’t want to be seen with me right about now. My mood is as ugly as my face is with its bruises and scars.