Someone knocks into me, and I fall—straight through a dead person. Whatever they died from causes my head to spin, and as everything goes dark, I hear a third, familiar voice in the mix.

“Shit. Is she okay?”

Jeremy.

Then, nothing.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Shy and Roth’s Return

After I drop Anora off, I head home to sleep a little before meeting Roth. The streetlights glare through my windshield as I drive to June’s. As much as I’d have liked to disregard Roth’s message, it doesn’t do me any good. I’m already in deep with the Order. Ignoring the soon-to-be luminary will just get me in more trouble.

Luckily when I return, Jeremy is gone. I really don’t like him, and not just because he’s my rival. The kid’s been trouble in the past. He was caught on security cameras spray-painting our gym. His anger has led to several penalties and suspensions for unsportsmanlike conduct and targeting. Most of all, I don’t like that he knows Anora was selected as the princess for queen’s ransom. It makes me think he’s plotting something. I hope Anora listens to me about tonight.

I find Roth at a small, round table in the corner, bent over a latte with a foam art cat on the surface.

“I didn’t know you were a cat person,” I say.

Roth looks at me and smiles. “There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me, Savior.”

“What do you want, Roth?”

He nods to the chair in front of him. “Sit down.”

Begrudgingly, I take a seat.

“What’s new?”

“What’s new?” I echo his question. He poses it like we’re friends.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging and then leaning forward. “You have a girlfriend yet?”

Instinctually, I want to flinch, because now I know why he asks—because it is inevitable that I’ll attract the Eurydice. And I’m pretty sure it’s inevitable that I will love her.

“Why are you so worried about my relationship status? You interested?”

He grins. “Now you’re learning, Savior.”

Roth focuses on his coffee for a moment. The foam barely resembles a cat anymore.

“My father died.”

My whole body feels shaky at his news, and my stomach coils. Death usually inspires sympathy, but I feel fear. Before, Roth’s commands could be blocked by the Order. Now as luminary, there is little he can’t influence.

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Does anyone know?”

“You,” Roth says, still looking at his coffee.

“And…?”

“Just you.”

“Why?” I don’t understand. How am I the first to know of Maximus’s death? Why is Roth choosing to share this information with me?

“Everyone else will find out soon enough. Besides”—he shrugs—“we’re friends, right?”