“I’m serious. And we should have a secret signal in case you need anything. Like—” She scratched her eyebrow with her pinky finger. “Yeah? Do that, and I’ll know to come help.” She paused. “I’ll try not to bother you too much about it, but it is fascinating to me. My marriage will never matter much. Cole’s the heir—or he was until you showed up. He’s twelve minutes older than me, you know.” Her confident smile looked momentarily brittle. “And now it’s you.”

   I watched Lydia’s fingers—unmanicured, with bitten nails—pull at a thread at the hem of her skirt. All I’d been thinking about was how unfair this was to me. But what if you had to watch someone get all this attention you’d never have—and they didn’t even want it?

   “I couldn’t do this without you, you know,” I said quietly. It was all I could think to say, and it was true. “So thank you.”

   Lydia smiled.

   There was another knock on the door. “Ten minutes,” Jack called, and I started but was careful to not react. I’d convinced my father to let him come with us to India, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend I didn’t care about him more than any member of the Circle cared about the help. Watching him in his element was fascinating. He was laser focused, intense, stern. It was the Jack I knew, magnified. And it didn’t help that I hadn’t been able to so much as talk to him since that moment in the hall last night.

   I smoothed my sari. I couldn’t get distracted now, especially not by a guy I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that way, especially not just before meeting somebody who thought they might marry me. I put up walls in my brain. “Anything else I need to know?” I said.

   The girls were dressing Lydia in a ruby-red sari, and when they finished, they adorned us both with heavy necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. “Even if you’re nervous, try to have a good time,” Lydia said. “Dev is actually . . . It could be a fun night.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Last year he attended a UN summit on agriculture dressed as a banana. As in, wearing a full-body banana suit.”

   I laughed. “He did not.”

   “Time to go,” came a voice at the door, and I got final prods and pins and then one of the girls set a sparkling golden chain on my head. Finally, they let me see myself in the mirror.

   The silk of the sari shimmered, dark purple set off against my pale skin, and gold and jewels shone on my hands, at my throat, in my hair. The eyes were dramatic, but with the outfit, they worked. Lydia came up beside me, just as elegant and glittering.

   I watched our reflections and was surprised when she took my hand. Hers was small and cool, and our bangle bracelets clinked together prettily. Her mouth curved up at the corners, like we were in on a secret together. “You look like a princess,” she said.

   • • •

   I’d expected my first meeting with another family of the Circle to be like meeting the Dauphins, complete with either thinly veiled scorn or obsequious praise, but the Rajesh family wasn’t like that at all. Lydia and I joined them, plus my father and Cole and Jack, in a room filled with dancing candlelight and brightly colored wall hangings and a human-sized statue of Ganesh, the elephant god.

   Dev’s mother, Indra Rajesh, had a soft smile. She clasped my hand warmly in hers and asked me about my life and my family, assuring me how easily I’d fit into theirs. His father, Arjun, had a thick mustache and a thicker midsection, and must have had a dozen cups of coffee before dinner because he talked a mile a minute, about everything from the art in their home to the weather, all in a posh British accent.

   Dev himself had dark purple eyes that crinkled when he smiled in a way that made me want to smile back. He’d poured me a steaming, fragrant cup of tea when we’d first entered the sitting room, and now he sat next to me as we listened to his father.

   “And of course, we’ve implemented new security measures since the attacks began,” Mr. Rajesh went on. “Horrible. I spoke with George Frederick yesterday. They are, understandably, having a hard time recovering from Liam’s death . . .” They were talking about Liam Blackstone, who was a famous actor and member of the American Circle family, and Colette LeGrand’s late boyfriend. I’d hung out with both of them just before he was killed.

   The conversation faded as my father and Mr. Rajesh moved toward the dining room. I stood to follow, and Dev offered me his arm. I took it.

   “Well then,” Dev said, his voice low and smooth, “we’ve made the conversational jump from awkward to depressing, so I’d say the evening is on track so far, wouldn’t you?”

   “Oh.” I tried to rearrange my face into a smile. “No. Everything’s great. I—”

   Dev chuckled. I looked up, and his eyes were sparkling. He really was attractive—was anyone in the Circle not?—with longish, wavy dark hair, a smattering of stubble across his cheeks, and an easy smile.

   “It’s all right. You don’t have to pretend the whole thing’s not wildly uncomfortable.” Dev gestured ahead of us. On the floor of the dining room, there was a tile mosaic in the shape of a wheel with twelve spokes. It must be the Rajesh symbol. “My parents are not usually like this. They’re nervous. About the attacks and about . . . well . . . you.”

   I watched Mrs. Rajesh hover anxiously at the dinner table, her eyes darting over the place settings as if a mismatched napkin could ruin their chances at the union.

   “They’re nice,” I said, actually relaxing for the first time. “I appreciate your family going to all this trouble for me.”

   “We appreciate your visit, and I hope you’ll appreciate the paneer makhani masala we’re having with supper.” He guided me to a chair near the head of the table. “The tandoori lamb is meant to be the main dish, but the paneer is my favorite. It’s a recipe my mother made as a girl. She insisted on the best for you.”