“No one is doubting your strength,” Oralie told her. “It’s what makes you Gethen’s target.”

“And Forkle’s really okay with all of this?” Grady asked.

“I’m sure he will be once I inform him,” Oralie said. “I have a meeting with him later this afternoon.”

“Wait—he doesn’t know?” Edaline asked. “How can that be?”

Oralie stole a glance at Sophie.

Sophie sighed, realizing it was time to come clean. “I . . . went to see Oralie and asked her to set up the meeting with Gethen, because I was worried that the Black Swan were missing an important opportunity. And, um, I also told her about Wylie.”

The air shifted with the confession, taking on a charge that burned Sophie’s throat.

“When did you and Oralie have this little heart-to-heart?” Grady asked.

Sophie fussed with her Sucker Punch. “Right before you grounded me.”

Sandor’s squeaky growl made the hairs on her arms prickle.

“So that means you went with her,” Edaline said, turning to Fitz, who slunk back a couple of steps when Sandor growled again—along with Grizel. “Is that why you both had dirt in your hair?”

Sophie nodded. “Flori took us. And please don’t be mad at her—or Fitz. It was all my idea.”

Grady pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew going through the teenage years again was going to be tricky. But I never prepared for this.”

“This is me trying to stop the Neverseen from hurting people,” Sophie snapped. “It’s not like I’m sneaking around just for fun.”

“Well,” Oralie said, standing and removing a pink-wanded pathfinder from her cape. “Family debates aren’t really my area of expertise. But I do hope you won’t go too hard on Sophie. She was perfectly safe in my castle. And she was wise to come to me.”

Grady didn’t agree. As soon as Oralie left, he sent Fitz home to confess to Alden and sentenced Sophie to a week of Verdi pedicures. Which was why Sophie was elbow deep in T. rex toe jam when Mr. Forkle leaped into the pasture.

“I’m assuming you can guess why I’m here,” he said quietly.

Sophie wiped her hands on her tunic. “I know what you’re going to say—”

“I’m not sure you do.” He cleared his throat several times before he told her, “I came here to thank you.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

Tiny smile lines crinkled around his eyes. “I’m not saying I want you kids regularly disobeying my advice or sneaking away without your bodyguards—and just because everything worked out this time doesn’t mean you should feel free to act on such whims whenever you feel them. But . . . in this case, you made the right decision.”

“That doesn’t get you out of pedicure duty!” Grady called from the next pasture over.

Mr. Forkle smiled. “And thus we have the cost of rebellion. Being right doesn’t spare the consequences of breaking rules. But I’m happy to know you’re ready to stand up for your convictions.”

He stayed a few minutes longer, giving her a long lecture on the need for them to create a clear plan for the meeting with Gethen.

“We have a week,” he told her. “And I’m counting on you to figure it out. You’re finally stepping into the role we imagined for you. Now let’s see what you can do.”

FIFTY-ONE

GET READY TO wish you could hug me, Keefe said as Sophie watched the first rays of dawn paint across the murky sky. Actually, I’m pretty sure this is good enough news that you’re going to want to kiss me—and I’m happy to accept an IOU, by the way.

Just tell me what you learned, Sophie ordered, too tired to joke around.

Keefe had skipped both their dinner and before-bed check-ins the night before, because there was another huge argument going on with the Neverseen. So she’d been up most of the night worrying—and failing to come up with a plan to rescue him.

Fine—but you should at least have to write an epic poem in my honor. Here—I’ll help you. “Ode to Keefe Sencen—that brave, lovable nut. He may not have teal eyes, but he has a really cute—”

KEEFE!

All right, fine. But I’m calling you Foster Grumpypants for the rest of this conversation. And brace yourself because I’m about to blow your mind. Are you ready for it?

I’ve been ready for the last five minutes.

You think you’re ready. But there’s no way you possibly can be.

JUST TELL ME.

Okay. Just don’t say I didn’t try to prepare you. Fintan gave me another cloak when he moved me to this new hideout. And by the way, it’s WAY nicer over here. I actually have my own room—and it doesn’t smell like rotting toenails!

If that’s the only news you have, I’m never talking to you again.

Wow, you ARE Foster Grumpypants. Sheesh. Everything okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. I just get nervous when you tell me the Neverseen are arguing. The last time Brant lost his temper, he killed Jolie.

Jolie’s name seemed to demand a moment of silence.

I’m being careful, he promised. And Brant’s actually not the one fighting. It’s all Ruy, making a big fuss about his punishment for letting Wylie get away. It’s been hard to get details. But Fintan’s definitely changing their roles for that big project, and Ruy thinks his new assignment is unnecessary and demeaning.

And I’m assuming you still don’t have any ideas about what the project is?

Sadly, no. Just like I haven’t gotten any more info about the ogres’ test, or King Dimitar’s meeting with Fintan, or Fintan’s cache, or any of the things I can’t get anyone to talk about—but before you get all Doom and Gloom, remember, I still have huge, kiss-worthy news!

If you start talking about cloaks or rotting toenails again . . .

But that’s how it started! Well, not the toenails—but whatever. Fintan made a big deal about how I needed to wear my new cloak the whole time I’m here, and I figured it had to do with the black disk you found. So last night I opened the bottom seam and yep—another disk, with a different piece of the symbol.

He shared his memory of the etching, and the pattern of dashes breaking up the line matched a ray on the opposite side of the Lodestar symbol.