“Thanks to the Vegas,” a servant girl said, wiping tears from under her eyes. “We can’t thank you enough.” Lionel’s face turned to stone. His eyes scraped over us and my heart pounded out of tune. “Phoenixes,” he snarled, the word slicing the air to ribbons. “You aren’t Fire Harpies at all.” The Heirs looked between us in a mixture of horror and surprise. Oh shit.
