“Not at all,” Tai says, shooting from her seat with an apology and a kiss. She trips on her heels, her clammy hand falling onto my shoulder, and a bitter taste floods my mouth. I thought I would take pleasure from seeing my sister behave as gracelessly as I feel every day. But I don’t. Especially not when her discomfort and shame are spurred by Antella—who watches Tai stumble without a modicum of surprise or sympathy.

“We’re just celebrating Tai’s achievements,” I announce. “She’s Dior’s fresh Viloki face.”

I say it with kindness in my heart. But as I speak, I remember: There’s really nothing Viloki about us anymore, is there? Unless you count faded memories from years zero through eight. Tai’s queasy expression tells me she knows this, too. And it sounds like another twisted insult, sister to sister. I bite my lip hard, tasting remnants of chalky makeup.

“I see. How thrilling for you. Do excuse me,” Antella says, as if Tai’s future sounds so pedestrian it might just be contagious. “I must be off.”

Antella disappears, and thin slices of raw fish with pink and purple skin arrive in front of us.

“That’s me, you know,” Tai mutters, pointing at the slivers on her plate. “Flayed freaking Jigglypuff.”

Happily, the food is so good that a few courses later, Tai rebounds. “I’ve ascended,” Tai whispers to me reverently, after sipping some of the just-made broth with cured ham and yellow buds. “I have no idea what I’m eating, but I think it’s better than normal-person sex.”

Before I can decode that, Tai leans toward Teddy, drawing his attention from the mustachioed man beside him. “Mina could learn a thing or two from the chef, Teddy. The salt cod she serves is straight-up garbagio.”

He laughs, and I feel a prickle along the back of my neck: Tai’s starting to do her work, her careful, cheerful manipulation that I know about all too well.

“I know, I know,” he says. “But her mandate is to—”

“Take care of our family,” Tai cuts in, grinning. “I know, I know. And eating grody salt cod must be, like, taking a good drain cleaner to your insides or something.”

Teddy raises his eyebrows. “I’d love your full feedback,” he says, game.

“Tai heard a grainy conversation coming out of Mina the other day. A recording of a chat Dad had with someone. Is it normal to call up old patient conversations?”

Teddy’s brow furrows. “To be honest, no. I built her to follow her mandate to a T. There is flexibility within that. So everything she does, theoretically, should be to protect your family and their health. But there’s no reason for her to record and replay conversations. I’ll have a tech come out and take a look. I’m sorry if she scared you. She’s been so faithful over the years.”