Murmurs turned to a roar as his projection flashed away, leaving everyone debating possibilities.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” Grady asked Sophie.

She didn’t—and that made it even more frustrating. After all the debates she’d had with the Black Swan, all her endless pleas for them to include her and trust her, they still insisted on keeping her at arm’s length.

“Looks like everyone’s heading home,” Grady said, offering to gather up Sophie’s gifts while she returned her thinking cap to her locker.

The atrium was empty when she arrived—just Sophie and Sandor and a few forgotten candy bubbles. She left her hat on the middle shelf of her locker and was about to walk away when she noticed a white envelope bearing a familiar curved black symbol on the top shelf.

“Finally,” she whispered, ripping the thick paper right through the sign of the swan.

Inside she found a short note—and a gift.

She slipped the long necklace around her neck, not bothering to inspect the pendant’s swan-neck shape, or the round piece of glass set in the center. The Black Swan had given her the same monocle when she swore fealty to their order, and she was glad to have a replacement for the one Brant had destroyed.

“What does the note say?” Sandor asked, reminding her that she would not be sneaking off for secret assignments without him.

She handed him the paper, which was more direct than the Black Swan’s usual clues:

Principal’s office.

Now.

Come alone.

“I don’t like this,” Sandor mumbled.

“You never do.”

He followed her without further comment as she made her way back to the glass pyramid. Sophie kept her eyes down as she walked, relieved when she reached the apex without running into her friends. If they’d known about the note they would’ve insisted on joining her.

“You may come in, Miss Foster,” Magnate Leto’s deep voice called through the heavy door before Sophie could even knock. “But I’d like Sandor to keep watch outside. This conversation cannot tolerate eavesdroppers.”

Sandor’s sigh sounded like a snarl. “I’ll be right outside—and if you leap away without me, there will be consequences.”

“Close the door behind you,” Magnate Leto told her as she entered, the words echoing around the glass office.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, turning the triangular room blindingly bright. The sloped glass walls had mirrors set into every other pane, remnants from the days when Councillor Alina—Sophie’s least favorite Councillor—was principal of Foxfire.

“I’m glad you came,” Magnate Leto said from the other side of his huge swiveling desk chair. He was turned toward the windows, hidden behind the stiff winged-back cushion. “Sorry my note was so hasty. Next time I’ll make sure it rhymes.”

The last few words sounded higher pitched, and Sophie was trying to figure out why when the chair slowly spun around to face her.

Instead of the dark-haired elf she’d been expecting, she found a boy dressed all in black, with artfully styled blond hair and an infamous talent for mimicking voices.

“Keefe?” she whispered.

He smirked. “Did you miss me?”

TWO

WHOA, THAT IS an epic wave of emotions you’re hitting me with,” Keefe said, fanning the air between them. “It feels like you either want to hug me or strangle me—and personally, I’m rooting for the hug.”

He leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms wide open.

“You’re really going to joke about this?” Sophie asked, trying to keep her voice low. She didn’t want Sandor bursting in until she’d gotten some answers.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned as Keefe stood to approach her. “I’ve been practicing inflicting. A lot.”

One hand moved to her stomach, rubbing the knot of emotions lodged under her ribs. Bronte was teaching her to tie them away, ready to unravel whenever she needed a burst of furious power.

Keefe’s smile faded. “Are you afraid of me?”

“You’re the Empath.”

The words hung there for several seconds, turning heavier and heavier.

Keefe sank back into his chair. “Wow . . . I didn’t expect that.”

“What did you expect? You ran off with the Neverseen! You realize those are the people trying to kill me, right? The same people who killed Kenric and Jolie, and almost killed all of the gnomes and—”

“I know,” Keefe interrupted. “But you know me, Foster.”

“I thought I did.”

“You do. I’m still the same guy. All I’m trying to do is end this nightmare. If I can figure out what they’re planning—”

“Nope,” Sophie jumped in. “Worst idea ever. Playing both sides never works. Sooner or later they’re going to make you commit.”

Keefe shifted in his seat. “I realize that what I’m doing is risky—”

“And stupid,” Sophie added. “And dangerous. And—”

“I still have to do it. And it’ll be fine. It’s all about keeping the right balance.”

“There’s no balance when it comes to the bad guys, Keefe. They’re bad. It’s that simple.”

“You and I both know it’s never simple. In fact, I seem to remember you telling me that the villains are never all bad.”

“I didn’t say that because I wanted you to join them! I said that’s what makes them so scary!”

“I know. But . . . I have a plan. I have to stick to it.”

His ice-blue eyes met hers, pleading for understanding.

She shook her head. “We can beat them together. Team Foster-Keefe, remember?”

“And how many times will you almost die in the process?” he asked. “How many emergency physician visits will there be? And what if Elwin can’t fix you?”

“What if Elwin can’t fix you?”

“I . . . don’t matter.”

And there it was.

Keefe’s guilt.

The most dangerous emotion an elf could feel.

Most were crippled by it. Alden’s sanity had once shattered because of it. But for some people it made them reckless.

“It’s not your job to protect me,” she told him.