We’ll NEVER let that happen, she transmitted.
“I’m sure Sophie’s trying to assure you right now that she can protect Linh,” Lady Gisela guessed. “But you and I both know she can’t make that guarantee. She’ll try her best—but you’ve seen how often her ‘best’ simply isn’t enough. Are you willing to risk that for your sister? After all you and Linh have been through together?”
Don’t listen to her, Sophie begged. She’s just trying to get in your head.
“I know this isn’t easy to hear,” Lady Gisela added. “Especially with all the myths and misconceptions about my order, and all the ways other leaders have stepped in and botched things. Sometimes I wish I had Sophie’s talent for recruitment. One pretty smile and she has friends lining up to risk their lives.”
“I’ve never recruited anyone!” Sophie practically growled.
“Are you sure? From what I hear, you dragged both Tam and Linh into the Black Swan after you saw how powerful they were at Exillium—and kudos to you for having such a sharp eye for talent. But tell me this, Tam, were you eager to swear fealty to the order after Sophie brought you to them? Or did you have reservations?”
Tam didn’t answer, but his silence said enough.
“You hesitated, didn’t you?” Lady Gisela pressed. “Because you could see that something didn’t add up. And I’d wager the only real reason you came around was to keep Linh happy. How is this, if you really think about it, all that different from that?”
Keefe snorted a laugh. “Are you serious right now? You’re threatening Linh’s life and claiming it’s the same thing as Linh getting over her trust issues faster? See what she does, Tam? See how she plays with your head?”
“There’s no game this time,” his mom insisted. “I’m simply right. If you hear us out, I guarantee you’ll realize that we are the only ones with an actual solution to the problems in this world, and that you’ve been wasting your talent serving the wrong side. I can show you more proof than you can possibly imagine. But right now, I don’t have that kind of time—and neither do you.” She pointed to the sky, which was slowly brightening with the coming dawn, then back to Silveny and Greyfell. “Look how the poison is spreading.”
Sophie choked back a gag when she saw the intricate web of black veins covering both unconscious alicorns.
“They need this,” Lady Gisela pressed, holding up the vials of antidote again. “And you can give it to them with a simple yes.”
“Please tell me you’re not actually considering this,” Keefe begged when Tam tugged on his bangs.
“Do I have a choice?” Tam snapped back.
“Yes,” Sophie promised. “You do. There’s always a choice.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s a good choice,” Lady Gisela countered. “Remember what’s at stake here. Not just for Silveny and Greyfell.”
Tam’s voice filled Sophie’s head, and she glanced down to find his shadow crossing hers so he could shadow-whisper just to her, “I . . . think I have to go with her. If I don’t—and something happens to Linh . . .”
And what if something happens to you? Sophie transmitted back.
“I can handle myself,” his shadow voice insisted. “If I can survive my parents—and years of Exillium—I can find a way to navigate through whatever this is. And who knows, if I play nice for a while, maybe I can learn something useful about their plan.”
That sounds a lot like what Keefe thought when he ran off to join the Neverseen—and you saw how well that worked out for him, Sophie reminded him.
“Yeah . . . but he still made it back.” His shadow edged closer, his voice turning more urgent. “And I don’t really care about me. I care about Linh—if I go with them now, you’ll have more time to figure out how to really protect her. And you’ll save Silveny and Greyfell.”
“Don’t do it,” Keefe pleaded, probably feeling Tam’s mood shift.
“I have to,” Tam said, pulling his hand free from Sophie and stepping closer to Lady Gisela. “But I want your word that if I do, you’ll leave my sister alone.”
“Of course, Tam. As long as you cooperate.” She held out the vials of antidote. “Do we have a deal? And keep in mind that if you say yes, it’s effective immediately. No goodbyes. No looking back. No one has time for that. And absolutely no contact with anyone until you’ve had a chance to experience our side and train in our methods—and that goes for your friends as well. If they try to rescue you, none of you will like what happens.”
“Uh, if you needed proof that this is a BAD IDEA,” Keefe said, “I’m pretty sure that covers it.”
“No, that simply acknowledges that the transition will be bumpy,” Lady Gisela insisted. “It’s all only temporary. The day will come when you’ll finally understand what we’re truly working toward and fully commit to our cause—and when that day comes, you’ll have every freedom you could possibly want. In the meantime, you can take comfort in knowing that every day you play nice, you’re keeping your lovely sister safe.”
“Bad idea,” Keefe repeated as Tam reached for the vials.
But Tam still grabbed them, and Sophie couldn’t watch, couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t even look at him as he passed the antidote along to her. But she still nodded when he said, “Keep an eye on Linh. Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Keefe shook his head. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life. I know. I’ve made it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not you,” Tam snapped back as he crossed over to Lady Gisela’s side.
“That’s very true,” Lady Gisela said, hooking her arm through his. “And I think it’s important you remember that—in case you think you’re starting a new game right now, and that you’ll be able to flip sides the way my son foolishly tried to do. He may speak poorly of his experience with my order and think he escaped just in time. But he has no idea why he’s still alive.” She turned to Keefe, and her expression softened, the resemblance between them becoming much stronger. “I love my son. I will always hold out hope for him. And that gives him a certain level of privilege and protection—one you will never be able to rely on. You’re talented and I very much hope this works out. But until you prove yourself? You’re expendable.”
With that, she raised her weapon and clocked Tam hard on the side of the head, knocking him out as she held a crystal up to the light and leaped away.
FIFTY-TWO
SOPHIE HAD NEVER SEEN KEEFE quite so speechless before. And she didn’t have many words either. But she scraped together the voice to tell him, “You can’t blame yourself for this.”
He didn’t look convinced.
But he reached for her, pulling her into a shaky hug. And they both clung to each other until they had the strength to move again.
Then it was time to focus—time to make Tam’s sacrifice count. So they set to work, scraping any extra soporidine off of Silveny’s and Greyfell’s fur and smearing the antidote on instead.
While they waited, Ro went to make sure Wynn and Luna were okay, and thankfully both babies were safely floating in their goo-filled cubbies.
A few minutes later—after a vivid sunrise washed away the last wisps of that very long, very dark night—Silveny and Greyfell were awake. Both alicorns were emotionally overwhelmed, of course, and Silveny flooded Sophie’s mind with guilty apologies. But Sophie kept assuring her: You did what you had to do.
Just like Tam had—hard as that was for Sophie to accept.
This time . . . Lady Gisela beat them.
Sophie had replayed their standoff outside the hive over and over, trying to find a way she could’ve steered the situation toward a better ending. But she always wound up at the same place, with Tam sacrificing his freedom in order to keep the alicorns and his sister safe.
So now she needed to figure out where they went from here.
Planning a rescue would only put Tam and Linh in more danger, and possibly others as well. But were they really supposed to leave Tam alone w
ith the Neverseen—being trained, tested, and force-fed propaganda in hopes that he’d eventually join their ranks for real?
“Yes.”
The answer, surprisingly, came from Linh, who was wiping away the last of her tears.
Linh had been waiting under Calla’s Panakes with Sandor, Dex, Wylie, and Marella when Sophie and Keefe brought Silveny and Greyfell back to Havenfield. Ro had stayed behind to guard the babies. And things had naturally been a bit of an emotional roller coaster when everyone realized that Tam was missing. But once they switched from reacting to planning, Linh had turned determined.
“Tam can take care of himself,” she said, gathering all of her spilled tears and forming them into a tiny floating heart. “He doesn’t need us trying to save him. If we really want to help, we need to take down the Neverseen—that’s the only way we’ll ever be free of them.”
She was right, of course.
The question was, “How?”
All they had were the same dead ends that had gotten them nowhere for months and months, like the missing starstone, the mystery of what happened to Wylie’s mom, Keefe’s damaged memories, and the key to the Archetype. The real caches were also out there somewhere, if they could figure out how to find them. And Lady Gisela had made it clear that the Neverseen were still planning something for their soporidine—something that may or may not require the help of a Shade.
But that still felt like a whole lot of nothing.
So did Marella’s offer to see if she could learn anything from Fintan during their training.
Fintan had been right that something was going to happen at the Celestial Festival. But he clearly had a lot of gaps in his knowledge.
Plus, the Council would be watching those lessons very closely. They’d seen Marella use her ability against the newborns—most of their world had, in fact. And since it had been such a spectacle, and Marella had kept herself well under control, the Council agreed to give training a chance—which was actually a pretty huge change for the Lost Cities.
And it was only the beginning.
The Council had also promised lots more announcements in the days ahead, as they figured out what to do about Luzia and Orem and the trolls. In the meantime, they’d stationed guards outside the hive at Everglen, even though Tarina had sealed it before she left to speak with her empress.
“What’d they do about Alvar?” Sophie had to ask, cringing as her mind dredged up the gruesome memory of his lifeless face, floating in—
“That’s right,” Dex said, dragging her mind away from the horrifying flashback. “You weren’t there for that part.”
“Which part?” she asked, not liking the way all her friends shared a very strange look.
Marella was the one who finally told her. “After you guys left, Tarina cleared Fitz and Biana out so she could make some final preparations for the hive. But then Alden and Della got there and . . . and wanted to see the body. So they went in and . . . the cubby was empty.”
“Empty,” Sophie repeated, struggling to find some other meaning for the word.
Marella nodded. “The glass was broken, and half the goop had spilled onto the floor. But . . . Alvar was in there for, like, an hour without air—and Tarina said the liquid pours in super hot, so I don’t see how—”
“Survival instincts,” Keefe interrupted, swiping a hand down his face before his eyes met Sophie’s. “Breathing control and body temperature regulation.”
Sophie wanted to kick something.
Alvar excelled at both skills. And he was a Vanisher, so he could’ve turned invisible once he was free and snuck out the door.
“So . . . he’s still alive,” she murmured, needing to say it to make her brain believe it.
“We think so,” Dex admitted.
“And Fitz freaked,” Marella added. “So . . . you should probably check on your boyfriend.”
Sophie couldn’t tell if Marella was teasing or not. But either way, the word sat there, daring her to deny it.
She didn’t.
But she didn’t confirm it either.
Because now was absolutely not the time.
She did take Marella’s advice, though, and reached out telepathically to Fitz as soon as she crawled into bed—once she’d survived Sandor’s “Seriously—no more running off!” lecture and answered Grady’s and Edaline’s ten thousand questions about Tam and the alicorns and everything that happened at Everglen.
And Fitz sounded . . . bleak—especially after she caught him up about Tam.
So . . . we thought we took out Alvar, but we didn’t, he thought bitterly. And it doesn’t matter that they lost Umber because they stole Tam. AND they humiliated my family—made it look like my parents have been hiding mutant troll experiments the whole time they’ve lived here. Apparently there’s going to be a Tribunal about it.
Sophie couldn’t think of anything to say except I’m sorry.
She could almost hear him sigh before he told her, No, I’M sorry. I shouldn’t make this about me. And . . . I know there were a bunch of times yesterday when I was a total jerk and—
Don’t, she interrupted. It was a horrible day. No one handles situations like that perfectly. But we got through it, and now . . . we just keep going.
Yeah. He sounded even less excited than she felt. Will you be able to sleep?
Probably not, she admitted, even though she needed to. She’d been awake so long, she couldn’t remember the last time she slept.
Me neither, Fitz told her. If you need me, I’m here, okay?
So am I, she promised, severing their connection and wishing her brain had an off switch so she could stop wondering when they’d see Alvar again or where Lady Gisela brought Tam, or imagining bloodthirsty newborns lurking in every shadow, ready to jump out and—
“You’re still awake,” a soft voice said from her doorway, and Sophie turned to find Flori, holding four small potted plants. “I figured you might have trouble finding rest after everything you lived through. So I wondered if you might be willing to let me test my new song on your echoes.”
“You finished it?”
Flori smiled as she nodded, padding over to the bed and placing one plant next to each pole of her bed’s canopy. One held a sprig of vesperlace. The others were plants Sophie didn’t recognize, but Flori called them dimmetines, respitillis, and hushspurs. “These are from the four places where I drew inspiration for the verses—and I only found the hushspurs because of the festival. They trailed up the trunks of the trees we chose to hide in, and halfway through the night they changed their tune. I don’t know if they sensed the coming danger or if they simply wanted to show me what they could do, but that was the piece I needed. May I?”
“Should I sit up, or . . . ?” Sophie asked.
“No, just close your eyes.” Flori’s gentle fingers brushed Sophie’s cheek as her fragile voice hummed a slow, sweet melody—a rhythm that felt like a pulse as Flori breathed out soft lyrics in that ancient earthy language.
The first verse was a celebration of night—a ballad of dancing shadows and creeping mist and all the tiny, soothing shifts that let the world slip into restful slumber.
But as the lyrics carried on, they curved to an ode to darkness itself. A reminder that there was purpose and power, even in the blackest places. Even to the shadows within herself.
The anger.
And doubts.
And sadness.
The memories that were too painful to replay.
All rang with vulnerability and strength.
And with each new beat—each new pulse—the monster changed shape. Until it wasn’t a monster at all. Just something else that lived inside her. Something she could embrace. And when Sophie gave her mind over to the shadows, the shadows welcomed her in.
And she slept as the echoes faded away.
• • •
Sophie woke to the heady perfume of exotic flowers, and when she opened her eyes, her canopy was wrapped in the delicate vines from the fou
r plants Flori had brought for her, which had tripled in size thanks to Flori’s song.
She could’ve lain there breathing it in all day.
But there was too much to do.
Starting with a visit to Everglen.
She’d brought Flori over, hoping the new song would quiet Fitz’s echoes the same way it silenced hers. But they both got a little sidetracked by the chaos.
Sophie had assumed there would be cleanup and changes to the Vacker estate’s security after everything that happened. But she never expected to see the massive gates come tumbling down.
“The Council has decided that it’s best we send the message that there are no secrets here,” Alden explained when he spotted Sophie staring at the fallen metal panels. “And they are probably wise.”
“Will it be safe, though?” Sophie had to ask. “Especially with . . .”
She stopped herself from mentioning Alvar.
“Don’t worry—there will be plenty of security,” Alden promised. “It just won’t be as showy. And right now, it’s better we draw a little less attention.”
Alvar’s apartment was also gone.
And the hive was being buried.
She decided not to ask what they did with the bodies. Instead she asked, “Are you okay?”
Alden sighed, turning to watch the gnomes tear down another panel of glowing bars. “It’s not easy realizing you’ve been played for a fool. Or that someone you love . . . doesn’t deserve that sentiment. It was agonizing enough watching what all of you went through that night, knowing there was nothing I could do to help—Gisela made that clear with plenty of threats. But . . . watching Alvar. Seeing the moment the flashback hit. And he stopped being the son I’d just started to believe I was getting back, and instead became the monster I never wanted to believe he truly was. Well . . . let’s just say that’s going to stay with me. Just as I’m sure everything else that happened here is going to stay with lots of people for years to come. It’s going to be quite a legacy to live down. But change . . . is what our world needs. I suspect my family won’t be the only one experiencing a few growing pains.”
No, probably not.
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