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“The race is certainly sooner,” I say. “If your plan works, you can spend less time stressing, and hey, if it fails, you can save the money on the wedding thing.”

“Huh?” Kris asks.

“No bride, no wedding.”

Now they’re all scowling at me. “Look, I’m assuming you all showed up to convince me that we need to enact your plan at this race, and I don’t care when you do it. The race is fine.” If I get lucky, Leonid will incinerate Nojus’s brother in the melee. “Knock yourselves out.”

“But you won’t help us.” Mirdza frowns.

“What did you want me to do, exactly?” I’m genuinely curious. “I can’t shift my form. I can’t control earth, air, or water, and I didn’t exactly endear myself to Boris or Leonid.”

“You’re a fighter,” Mirdza says. “You always have been, since the time you smacked that bully in the head with a rock.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be at the race, and if there’s something I can do—”

“We’d like your help making the plans,” Kris says. “That’s what we’re saying.”

I can’t help glancing at Alexei. He’s the one helping me out, and he and I will be training each day. Does he want me to help them plan to deal with the people who are chasing them? He’s looking at me, but his face is totally impassive. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“Sure,” I say. “If you need my input on something, just let me know.”

It’s slight—so slight that if I hadn’t been watching for it, I’d never have noticed that Alexei’s lip turns up just a bit. He’s pleased I’m going to be involved. That’s really all I needed to know. Now I won’t have to make up excuses to get away when they start talking about all this.

“Does that mean you forgive us?” Kris asks.

They’re all looking at me. It’s not really a great way to ask whether someone forgives you. An apology should be a healing thing, not a pressure-filled one. But to them, this room’s a safe space. To her, there probably isn’t a lot of pressure in this moment.

“It’s fine,” I lie. “I know you were trying to help.” I just can’t trust that they know how to help me, and that’s kind of sad.

“We should all get food,” Kris says. “Aleks will pay.” She bites her lip and beams at him. “Right?”

“Have you seen how much these guys eat?” He’s feigning irritation, but he’s smiling.

“I should—”

Mirdza hobbles the few steps between us and grabs my arm. “You should let your family who has missed you and was worried about you take you out to dinner so we can all give you tips on how to win a race on a magical horse.”

“Yes.” I nod. “I think that’s a good topic to discuss at a restaurant.”

When Mom emerges from her room, her eyes widening, I realize something.

I’m part of a very exclusive group.

Mom has no idea who Aleks really is. What Grigoriy can really do. What’s going on. No one else knows. Kris told me that her dad doesn’t know. Her brother has no idea. No one, other than the six of us, understands what the stakes are, or who these men really are.

It does make me feel a little special.

“These guys sent me to Russia to deal with some business stuff,” I say. “And they had me working the whole time.” Lying to Mom has always been easy for me. “Now I’m making them take me out to dinner to repay me.”

Mom smiles. “That’s a good idea, but don’t let them off with just a dinner.”

That’s my mom. She won’t fight for anything, but she’ll push and push to see how much she can get out of a situation.

“Oh, I won’t,” I say. “My mom taught me better.”

Mirdza looks embarrassed as we walk out, but she often does. I’ve gone the other way with things. If people don’t like my mom, or our family, then I don’t need them. It’s like my litmus test for friendship.

“Where are we going?” I ask.