Sophie glanced at Tiergan. “You really think we should waste time sitting around, lying and hiding things?”

Tiergan turned to the windows, staring at the gently swaying trees. “I think our next course should be up to Wylie. He’s the one who will endure the consequences.”

Sophie headed for the door. “Okay, I’ll ask him.”

Mr. Forkle blocked her. “We will not be troubling him with these questions until he’s fully recovered.”

“But that could be days.”

“In the grand scheme of things, that is a very small amount of time.” His tone left no room for arguing.

“We have to do something,” Sophie insisted.

Sneaking into Lumenaria without the Council’s permission sounded impossible—especially with how little they knew about the security in the fortress. And she couldn’t imagine she’d be able to communicate telepathically with Lady Gisela in the ogre prison—or that Lady Gisela would actually tell her anything if she could.

So where did that leave them?

“Keefe’s trying to steal Fintan’s cache,” she said after a few seconds. “Do you think it might have any information on it about Cyrah?”

“If it does, why would they need to go after Wylie?” Fitz asked.

“And while we’re talking about Keefe,” Tam jumped in, his silver eyes focusing on Sophie, “I know you’re going to get mad at me for saying this. But before we keep trusting him, we need to find out what he knows—and I don’t just mean the little bits he tells you during your nightly flirt sessions.”

“That’s not what they are,” Sophie snapped.

“Maybe not for you. But I doubt the guy who calls himself the president of the Foster Fan Club is going to have a bunch of private convos with you and not use that chance to try to keep winning you over.”

“Winning me—what?” Sophie asked. “That’s not—I—what?”

“Not important,” Tam said. “But you know what is? Making sure he’s not involved with horrors like this. Can you honestly tell me you’re not worried he was somehow part of what they did to Wylie? Or that his whole ‘warning’ about the danger to your family was actually a lie to keep everyone distracted from what was really happening?”

Sophie rubbed the knot under her ribs. “I know you don’t trust Keefe—”

“And I know you do,” Tam interrupted. “I get that you two are really, really close—”

“They’re not that close,” Fitz mumbled.

“Uh . . . sure . . . ,” Tam said. “All I’m saying is, we need to know exactly who we’re dealing with—and not just what he says. We need to know what he’s thinking, and hiding, and planning.”

“You want me to search his mind,” Sophie guessed.

Tam nodded. “I know Telepaths have rules, but Wylie deserves protection way more than Keefe deserves privacy.”

“But I don’t actually know if I can search his mind from far away,” Sophie argued. “Having a telepathic conversation is different from probing memories. For that, I usually need physical contact.”

She had been able to search Prentice’s memories through the walls of his cell in Exile—but there was a big difference between stretching her mind to someone a few feet away and searching someone who was probably on the other side of the planet.

“You’d have a better chance if I help,” Fitz reminded her.

“Can I be there too?” Biana asked.

“I’m pretty sure all of us want to be there,” Tam told her. “You’re all welcome to crash here tonight, if that makes it easier.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” Mr. Forkle informed them. “Those with registry pendants need to get back to the Lost Cities quite soon. I’ve had our Technopath scrambling our feeds, but it’s a slapdash cover at best, and if we stay too much longer, the Council might be able to track us to this hideout. Besides, if you decide to follow this plan, Miss Foster and Mr. Vacker are going to need the full weight of their concentration to have even the slightest chance of achieving this rather impossible task. I’m sure they’ll be happy to provide a full report when they’re finished.”

“I don’t have an Imparter,” Sophie reminded him.

“I’ll get you another,” Mr. Forkle said.

And with that, the matter seemed to be decided.

All that was left to do was head home.

And wait.

And hope Keefe didn’t let them down.

THIRTY-FIVE

FITZ WENT WITH Sophie back to Havenfield, so they could work through Cognate exercises to prepare, while Biana and Dex went to Rimeshire to see if Dex could hack the registry for Cyrah’s records. They knew it was a long shot, but they wanted to see if her feed had been altered the day she faded.

“Do you think this is a mistake?” Sophie asked Fitz when they leaped into the surprisingly quiet, empty pastures. Cadoc and Brielle must’ve made Grady and Edaline stay inside.

“Checking on Keefe?” he asked.

Part of her wanted to say yes—she still felt scrambled up about their plan. But she had bigger worries at the moment.

“It feels like we’re wasting time on the wrong things. Especially since we don’t have any actual plans. I mean . . . what is the Collective doing right now—besides shutting down all our ideas and telling us to wait?”

“I know. I think what happened to Wylie really shook them up.”

“It shook me up too—but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to sit around doing nothing. I know I’m not as close to him as the Collective is—but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that makes me able to see what really needs to be done.”

“Which is what?” Fitz asked.

Sophie looked away, tugging out an itchy eyelash before she asked, “Do you have a pathfinder?”

“Not with me,” Fitz said, “Why? Where do you want to go?”

Somewhere she didn’t want anyone knowing—and she needed to do it now, before she changed her mind. They had no bodyguards for the moment. No one even knew they were home. If they were going to sneak away, this was the time.

But how?

Making it up to the fourth-floor Leapmaster without Grady and Edaline spotting them was probably impossible. And teleporting created quite the spectacle, between the whole jumping-off-the-cliff thing, and the booming thunder as they slipped in and out of the void.