CHAPTER THIRTY
Rebel
Dinner that night was more pompous than usual.
I played with my soup and thought about the way that wedding dress had gone up in smoke earlier in the afternoon.
It made the roast go down easier.
Gryphon presided, as usual. The Luna sat at his right in something with too many beads. Stephen occupied his usual end, cool and remote, observing but not participating.
Tristan was beside me, careful not to look at me too often and failing at the intervals I’d started to find endearing. And across the table sat Eva, restored to her mother’s side, and beside her, Curtis.
I’d decided I liked Curtis. He was like a golden retriever; it was hard not to like him.
He waited until the plates were cleared and the wine had been poured a second time — waited, I noticed, for the e
