Mom of the year strikes again. His mind seemed to darken as thick clouds of anger swirled through his consciousness. I don’t know why I even get surprised anymore.

Because you haven’t let her break you—and I hope you never do.

She watched him gather the words, tucking them away somewhere safe before he asked, So the disk you found in my cloak—was it a kind of tracker?

Sandor and Mr. Forkle didn’t think so. It wasn’t covered in any enzymes, and it’s made of something called duskitine, which is apparently a type of stone that reacts to starlight. We have no idea why it has a piece of the symbol carved on it, but it can’t be a coincidence. And you haven’t seen the symbol anywhere?

Nope. But I’m still at their stupid “new recruit” house. I bet I’ll find it once I get to a real hideout. And in the meantime, maybe I need to lose this cloak and see what happens. . . .

Bad idea—especially after you took such a risk to meet with us today.

There you go again with your logic. It’s really cramping my style.

Well then, why don’t you stop me by showing me that memory?

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather lecture me a little longer?

Tempting, but no.

When he still hesitated, she added, Come on, Keefe, haven’t you stood by me through all the weird things in my past? Let’s not forget I’m the girl with the alicorn-inspired DNA.

Yeah, but that lets you teleport—and communicate with Silveny—so it’s a total win. How are she and Greyfell doing, by the way?

They’re good. If they were here, Silveny would tell you to stop stalling.

Pretty sure she’d be chanting KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE! As everyone should be when they see me.

There you go, changing the subject again.

Caught that, huh? You’re a quick one, Miss F. And I’m pretty sure I’ve given you way more than five minutes, so—

Nope. You’re not getting out of this. We made a deal, and I’m holding you to it.

See, and I’d kinda like to find out how you’ll punish me if I don’t.

She was tempted to snap back with a long list of incredibly creative forms of Keefe torture. But then she’d be giving him the distraction he wanted.

Please? she tried. I’m tired of wondering about that memory. I’m tired of worrying what side of the line you’re on every time things get weird. I’m tired of having Dex tell me he thinks you’re my nemesis and—

Whoa—back up. Dizznee thinks I’m your what?

Well, he didn’t actually say “nemesis”—but he implied it. We were trying to guess what the Lodestar Initiative is, and he wondered if it’s the Neverseen’s version of Project Moonlark, which would basically mean they made you to stop me.

Wow. That’s just . . .

He burst into a fit of snorty giggles.

I’m glad you find this so amusing.

You don’t? Don’t tell me you actually believe him.

I don’t want to. But what else am I supposed to think? You told me when you ran off that you were meant to be something other than the hero. And just a few minutes ago, you told me you’re not the guy I want you to be.

Ugh. I guess you do need to see that memory, don’t you?

Yeah, I really do.

Okay. The word felt sluggish, like his mind was dragging its feet. But after several seconds, a new flashback began.

FORTY-ONE

IT WAS DARK in Keefe’s bedroom. So black he could barely make out the silhouette of his mother leaning over his bed, as her arms shook him from his dreamless sleep.

“Mom?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

His voice was squeakier than Sophie was used to hearing it. She guessed that meant he was more like nine or ten years old.

“Everything’s fine,” Lady Gisela told him as she yanked back his covers.

A whoosh of cold air rushed around him and he curled up tighter, shivering in his overstarched pajamas.

“None of that,” she said, grabbing his wrist to stop him from reaching for his blanket. “Put this on. It’s even colder where we’re going.”

She tossed a thick black cloak at him as he slowly sat up.

Sophie squinted through the dim memory, half expecting to find the white eye symbol staring back at her from the sleeves. But the cloak was plain, and the coarse fabric seemed to swallow Keefe’s skinny frame as he stumbled to his feet, his knees still shaky with sleep.

His eyes slowly adjusted to being awake, letting him see more of his mom, who looked as immaculate as ever. Despite the middle-of-the-night time, her lips were glossed, her heavy black cape glittered with flecks of onyx, and her shiny blond hair was twisted into an intricate updo.

She clicked her tongue as he stood there gaping at her.

“Honestly, Keefe. You can’t figure out that you need to put on your shoes?”

Keefe stared at his bare feet.

Lady Gisela rolled her eyes and dropped to her knees, grabbing a pair of soft black boots from the foot of the bed.

“No socks?” Keefe asked, clinging to her shoulders as she ordered him to step into the left shoe. “And shouldn’t I change first?”

“We won’t be gone that long.” She pulled the other boot on and adjusted the collar of his cloak, securing the fabric higher up on his neck. “There. Good enough.”

“Where are we going?” Keefe asked as she strode across the room and pulled back the curtains covering his windows. Only a sliver of moon lit the lonely night sky. “Why isn’t Dad coming with us?”

“Because. This is our special secret. You like secrets, right?”

She offered half a smile as he gave an enthusiastic “Yes!”

“Good. Then let’s get going.” She reached for the back of her head and pulled a long silver hairpin out of her twisted style. Her hair fell around her face in silky waves, softening her features. But the look in her eyes was hard as iron as she held the pin up to the window, letting the pale silver light illuminate the smooth stone set among the swirled pieces of metal.

“Is that crystal glowing?” Keefe asked, pointing to the pin’s white-blue aura.

“It’s not a crystal. It’s a rare starstone—which is important. Someday I’ll need you to remember that. But not tonight. Tonight I just need you to take my hand.”

He did, his fingers looking so much smaller than hers as they twined together. A wide golden nexus covered his left wrist, glittering with dozens of diamonds.