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Charlotte squeals and kicks her feet, while Katie throws back her head to laugh out loud. I let myself feel a note of satisfaction at the furious embarrassment that flashes across Soren’s face, then turn to get up.

My ring flashes with a burst of heat. An instant later, Soren seizes my arm, squeezing so hard that I wince, and yanks me back. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he says, his voice menacing.

I suck in my breath as my skin turns ice-cold around his grip. He’s trying to read my mind, prying for secrets.

Charlotte jumps up from her seat. Katie takes a step forward.

I clench my teeth. “Let go of me.” My ring pulses, sending rivulets of pain through my arm, and I turn, ready to grab his wrist and weaken his soul with my own power.

But before I can, he releases me. The coldness of his grip vanishes. He blinks rapidly, and as I look around to see the source of his bewilderment, I spot a familiar silhouette appearing out of the dimness.

“What’s this?”

He is in a black silk shirt tonight, his hair swept back, and in this neon-hued setting, his eyes seem to change colors. Even in the darkness, even with thousands of dancing bodies and flashing lights, he stands out. I can’t stop staring at him.

Étienne.

12

Étienne glares at Soren with a dangerous grin, then takes a step forward so he’s standing between us.

His slicked hair is slightly tousled, causing a few strands to fall over his eyes, and something about how it flatters him makes me turn my head away nervously. I can’t tell if my cheeks are hot because of my drink or because of him. He is like an impassible physical barrier in his dark clothes, and although he’s smiling, his eyes are cold with the kind of trouble that you don’t want for your night.

Soren glares at him, annoyed that Étienne is tall enough to make him tilt up his head. “A scoundrel god’s dog,” he spits. “What are you doing to me?”

Étienne shrugs lightly. “You must have had too much to drink,” he says innocently. “You look dizzy.”

As if on cue, Soren sways on his feet. I don’t know what sort of illusion Étienne is conjuring around him, but he is fighting a losing battle against it. “Piss off,” he snaps. “This isn’t your business.” He makes an attempt to push Étienne aside.

Étienne’s hand shoots out so fast that I barely see him move. He seizes the other Regent’s wrist. “Let me be clearer.” Then he leans forward to give Soren a wink. “If you touch her again, I’ll rip your arm clean off. So let’s not make a scene, shall we?”

Soren hesitates, face red with fury, but his eyes still look unfocused, and now his skin is taking on a pale cast. At last, he shakes free from Étienne’s grip and scowls at us both. As he makes his way out of our circle, he gives Étienne a final, nasty smile. “You can go answer to your own god about why you’re defending your mark.” He begins to stagger off, one hand against the wall to steady himself. “But it’s no wonder she’s been dreaming about you,” he mutters as he slinks away.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. So Soren had gotten a bit into my thoughts, after all—had seen a glimpse of my illusion-filled nightmares of a room filled with water, of me struggling to breathe. Of my lungs filling with air as Étienne pressed me against the wall and kissed me.

Étienne smiles at Charlotte and taps her crown. “Happy birthday, Cookie,” he says.

She smiles back at him, then glances in Soren’s direction and asks, “What’d you do to him?”

Étienne makes a twirling gesture in the air with one hand. “Made his surroundings spin. He’s probably heading to the bathroom to puke.”

Charlotte lets out a cackle, and Katie chuckles. When Étienne glances my way, I just scowl at him, my feelings a chaotic jumble. “I don’t know what he was talking about,” I start to say. “The dreaming and all. I—”

The smallest hint of amusement lingers on his lips, along with something else. Hesitation, maybe, a certain thoughtfulness. It flickers across his face and is gone. He breaks his stare with me and reaches for a drink. I note the way the colorful lights seem to make his skin glow, then glance down at my own drink, grimacing. Maybe the drink is making me too generous. Hadn’t he just made me fail my first test?

My gaze falls to my ring. The eye blinks at me, looks over pointedly at Étienne, and then darts back to me, gauging my reaction.

I bite my lip and scowl at it. For once in my life, don’t embarrass me.

The bejeweled lid of the eye lowers sardonically in response.

“So,” Katie says, twirling around and holding a drink in her hand. She smiles conspiratorially at our group. “Anyone care for a blessing from the Regent of Love?”

She means a kiss, and I blush, even as I join in the round of laughter that follows. Everyone knows this game, what a kiss from a Regent of Love means. It feels like a rush of joy, desire, and fortune, all folded together. If I could actually look inside the brain as it happens, I’d probably see endorphins flooding the body and mind. Euphoria.

Charlotte makes a disgusted face and sticks out her tongue. “No, thanks!”

Katie pats her hair fondly, then plants a firm kiss on her forehead. Charlotte rolls her eyes, but her smile is bright with mirth as she sits back down, humming to herself.