“Just be yourself,” Kieran said, holding out his hand for me.

“Lexi is going to make an ass of herself within the first five minutes,” Daisy murmured, turning to look behind her. “I can’t wait to see what Bria says about the style. Talk about gaudy!”

“This is certainly…distasteful,” Mordecai said, his lip curling. “She won’t make an ass of herself in their eyes, though. She’ll do something they didn’t expect, and that will put them on their toes.”

They were both right, I had no doubt. “As long as I don’t incite war, we’ll be fine,” I murmured, feeling our people climb out of their limos.

One of the white-gloved attendants opened our door and stepped aside. Kieran stepped out gracefully, pausing to button the jacket of another of his delicious tailored suits before offering me his hand. I climbed out…not as gracefully, hating the height of my heels and worried my boobs would fall out of the low-necked dress.

Daisy and Bria had made adjustments to the attire Aubri had chosen. Aubri, sadly, had been left behind. While Lydia’s invitation had allowed for me to bring a certain number of service staff, Kieran had insisted on bringing only people who could help protect me. Namely Bria, Red, and Jerry. My kids got to come because they were kids, and the rest of the available spots went to the “famous” Six, which now only numbered five and allowed a spot for Dylan. Amber had been forbidden, and although the explanation we’d been given was that she was untrustworthy due to her former service to Valens, I suspected Lydia had just been worried Amber would unearth all of her secrets. Little did Lydia know that Henry was nearly as good at this point, and had an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time.

So while my protection was in good standing, my style was not. I hoped there wasn’t much of a media presence.

One thing at least I could boast for my style was that I’d denied Harding’s strong suggestion that I bring the cats. Other Demigods’ partners brought around magical beasts or little dogs—why not take a couple of cool cats? I had to own my mantle as the pajama-wearing cat lady.

When Kieran had seemed on the verge of relenting, probably thinking two enormous cats would help protect me in some way, I’d threatened to sleep in the other room. I had enough problems with my image and looking after two wards—I did not need to add to either plate, thank you very much.

“Demigod Kieran, welcome.” A short, slight woman stepped out of the door in a flowing black gown with what I hoped were fake diamonds lining the neck and dipping down to her tiny waist. If they weren’t fake, then the dress was a ridiculous waste of money.

“Demigod Lydia, hello. Thank you for having us.” Kieran dropped my hand so he could bow and then graze his lips across her knuckles. I knew that meant he was proclaiming himself to be lesser in status. “Let me introduce Alexis.” He turned and put his hand out to me again.

I’d been filled in on a few things, like how to enter the room and what he and his guys might say and do, but after that, I’d received no instruction. Nothing. Kieran wanted to play me as a wild card, and he suspected my gross negligence of magical decorum would make people even more unsettled than simply knowing my magical type. Since I’d probably mess up regardless, I’d agreed to go along with it.

“Hello,” I said, stepping forward and taking his hand. I didn’t curtsy. I probably should’ve, but the thin four-inch heels were hard enough just to stand in. My ankles kept trying to mutiny, buckle, and dump me on my face. “Nice to meet you, Demigod Lydia.”

“My, my.” She took me in, from my sleek, fashionable dress showing too much skin (but not as much as she was showing) to the new ruby and diamond necklace Kieran had bought for the occasion, then down to the horrible designer shoes that were in the process of sawing off a toe. “The rumors are true—you wear his mark.”

“Yes. Reapplied several times over.” I entwined my fingers with his.

Lydia noticed. Her dark eyes surveyed me, her black eyebrows heavily tweezed and her long raven hair so dark that it held a blue shine in the dim glow of the exterior lighting. In contrast, her skin was paler than Daisy’s, somehow lacking the hue of the living. She almost looked like a fabled rendition of a vampire, complete with blood-red lips and a hungry gleam to her eyes, a more romantic look than the mottled corpses that prowled the dark places of the world. There was an otherworldly vibe about her, as though part of her had been left in the spirit realm.

“You are a striking beauty. There is a regal quality to your bearing. A gift from your father, I would imagine.” Her smile was slick, like oil glistening atop the waters of a rippling pond. “Magnus has the same…way about him.”

A surge of feeling rushed through my links with Kieran. Lydia had clearly spoken with Magnus, because Kieran hadn’t made my heritage public, and from what Henry and Amber had said, Magnus hadn’t either. Unless she was guessing, and if so, I hoped I’d kept the grimace off my face.

“And Kieran, just as dapper as your old man. Such a shame, how that worked out for you two.”

There was that smile again, and it took everything I had to not punch her in the spirit box.

“We shall see,” Kieran replied, his double meaning clear. It would be a real shame for her indeed if she kept this up.

“Please, come in. You must be tired from your journey. I’ve prepared rooms within my palace for you. I hope that is satisfactory?” Lydia turned with flair, her skirt swirling around her legs and the gems catching and throwing the light.

Kieran kept hold of my hand as we crossed the threshold. My first look at the inside of the place made my stomach drop and my knees wobble. I staggered to a stop, thankful for Kieran’s steadying grip.

Giant, glittering chandeliers dropped down from the high, domed ceiling within the long two-story hall. No doors lined the sides of the bottom level, but a large double door was nestled between two wide staircases at the end. The stairs led to twin corridors that ran along the outer sides of the hall, encased by a gold railing stretching between marble columns.

“So…she’s rich, then,” Daisy murmured next to me. Although she was probably supposed to be walking farther back for reasons of etiquette, she either didn’t know or didn’t care. “That’s what I’m taking away from this. She wants us to know she has more money than sense.”

“She got her point across,” Mordecai said from behind us. “Too bad money can’t buy style.”

“Totally. This is gross,” Daisy replied, a little too loudly for Lydia’s distance. I wondered if that was on purpose.

“Shh.” I turned to glare, and caught a glimpse of someone on the second story, looking over the gaudy banister. A hollow-faced man with a moth-eaten suit and sorrowful eyes watched our progress. I wondered how long ago he’d died, and why Lydia, who should be able to see spirits, let him hang around.

The click of high heels and dress shoes echoed against the walls, an aggravating sound. She’d do well to put down a rug or two. The doors between the stairs opened as Lydia reached them, and we passed into another long hall, this one with high-vaulted ceilings and another set of enormous, glittering chandeliers. The cream walls had gold-plated panels, and pinkish couches and chairs sat within large, arched alcoves. A line of people waited to either side, their expressions hungry and a little manic. None of them were living.