Lodestar Page 44

He winked at Sophie and Biana.

“You guys are the worst,” Dex groaned as he stomped outside to join them, shadowed by his bodyguard. “Can’t I have Lovise tie them up somewhere?”

“I don’t think I have strong enough rope,” Lovise warned.

“He’s just jealous,” the boy told Biana. “He knows the ladies like me better.”

“Okay,” Kesler said, grabbing the boy’s arm before he could wrap it around Biana’s waist. “Looks like we need to have another talk about appropriate behavior around girls, Lex. Rule number one—we do not touch them without their permission.”

“And by the way,” Dex told his brother, “she’s way too good for you.”

“YEAH WELL THEY’RE BOTH TOO GOOD FOR YOU!” Bex and Rex shouted as they circled back.

Dex turned pleading eyes to his mom. “You promised you’d keep them away.”

“I will,” Juline said. “I was just waiting until everyone was here.” She closed her eyes and raised her arms, sweeping her hands back and forth in broad, graceful motions.

“Are you a Froster?” Biana asked as tiny flecks of white formed all around them.

It felt like they were standing in the middle of a shaken snow globe, and the flakes swirled in the same pattern as Juline’s wispy movements.

The triplets stopped fighting to watch as their mom gathered the bits of ice into a cloud that grew and stretched until their whole property was covered. Then, with a whoosh of breath, Juline dropped her arms and let the snow fall, turning their yard into a winter wonderland.

“Amazing,” Sophie whispered.

But something about it felt wrong.

“Didn’t you tell me that being a Froster is a stupid talent?” she whispered to Dex. “After the day they made you test for it in ability detecting?”

“I probably did,” Dex mumbled. “And it’s not my favorite talent. But . . . I think I was grumpy because I didn’t manifest. I’d figured that was my best shot, y’know?”

Biana seemed to be asking herself much bigger questions. She glanced between Juline and the snow—back and forth. Then her eyes widened. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Juline said—but there was a tightness to her voice that said otherwise.

“No one else sees it?” Biana asked, turning to Sophie, Fitz, and Dex. “Try really looking at her—and think about her voice.”

“Really, I think you have me confused with someone else,” Juline insisted. “And maybe we should—”

“Wait,” Fitz interrupted. “I think I see it.”

“See what?” Dex asked.

“Nothing,” Juline said quickly.

“You’re really not going to tell him?” Biana asked.

“Tell me what?” Dex snapped, his eyes narrowing at everyone.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Kesler jumped in, “but if you’re accusing my wife of something—”

“I’m not accusing,” Biana interrupted, focusing on Juline. “If you don’t want me to say anything I won’t.”

Juline smiled sadly. “I think we’re well past that.”

Her fingers scratched nervously at her neck as she watched the triplets disappear into the trees, lobbing snowballs at each other the whole way. “And I suppose it’s overdue. I’ve been putting this off, hoping I’d find a perfect moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Kesler asked.

“It’s . . . probably easier if I show you.”

Juline took a slow breath and held up her arms, letting the snow gather around her again. But instead of whipping into a storm, she pulled the flakes in close and let the frost coat her skin.

Layer by layer, the ice grew thicker, until her whole body was encased in a frozen shell.

“See?” Biana said as Sophie sucked in a breath.

Dex’s jaw dropped as far as his lips could stretch.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Kesler asked.

It took Dex a few seconds to mumble, “She’s . . . Squall.”

TWENTY-FOUR


SQUALL?” KESLER REPEATED, grabbing Juline’s frozen hands. “Who is Squall? Wait—you’re one of them? Like the guy who eats all the ruckleberries?”

“The Black Swan,” Juline corrected, keeping her voice low as she glanced over her shoulder to check for triplets. They were still among the trees, screaming and shouting through their snowball fight. “I’ll have to figure out how much I can trust them to know. I should’ve prepared better for this—I just didn’t expect anyone to notice. It’s not like I’m the only Froster in our world!”

“Sorry,” Biana mumbled. “The whole time I’ve been here, I kept thinking your voice sounded familiar. So when I saw the snow, it clicked. I think it’s because Squall—or I should probably say ‘you’—was the member of the Collective I was the most curious about. I actually thought you were someone on the Council who was secretly a Froster, because you were always having to race back to the Lost Cities.”

“That would’ve been a more interesting anecdote,” Juline said, twirling a few times to shed her icy disguise. “Really I’m just the only member of the Collective with a family living at home who would notice my absence. Wraith was also concerned that Dex would recognize me.”

Dex laughed—dark and thick and definitely not because he found anything funny. “Guess he was wrong. Apparently I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Sophie promised.

“She’s right,” Kesler said. “There’s nothing idiotic about trusting your mother not to lie to you.”

“I haven’t lied,” Juline said quietly. “But yes, I have kept secrets. I had to—those who know the truth have to be involved, and that required risks and sacrifices that I wasn’t about to let any of you suffer.”

“What if I wanted to be involved?” Kesler asked. “You know I have no warm feelings toward the Council.”

“I know.” She reached for his hand, and for a second it looked like he might pull away. But he sighed and let Juline twine her fingers with his. “If both of us were part of an illegal rebellion, it would’ve put our whole family at risk. Who would’ve cared for our children if we’d been discovered and captured?”

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