You’ll get used to the noise, Lord Cassius thought as she reached up to rub her temples.
Sophie doubted that.
And if it’d been anyone else, she would’ve checked to make sure he was okay.
Instead, she transmitted, What are you working on for the Black Swan?
Nothing that caused the mental disruption you’re seeing, if that’s what you’re wondering. Nor is it anything that merits the level of frustration I felt when I told you the assignment was classified. You truly despise secrets, don’t you?
I do, Sophie agreed.
And yet, you’re keeping more of them than anyone, aren’t you? Our fearless moonlark, with her impenetrable mind. The leader of Team Valiant, doing the Council’s bidding—
You didn’t answer my question, Sophie reminded him.
A low rumble shook the mounds of memories as he struggled to keep his temper. I wasn’t lying when I said the assignment is classified. But before you throw a tantrum—
I don’t throw tantrums!
Yes, and you aren’t gripping one of my pillows right now, tempted to hurl it at my face.
Sophie relaxed her grip on the cushion. So this is where Keefe gets his obnoxious side from.
I suppose that’s possible. His mind brightened slightly with the thought. But as I was trying to say before your unnecessary interruption, I’m sure you can guess enough to satisfy your curiosity if I tell you that my assignment involves stalled treaty negotiations.
Sophie needed several seconds to piece together a theory. Do you mean the negotiations with the trolls?
I can’t think of any other negotiations in progress, can you?
She couldn’t. But she also hadn’t realized that things with the trolls weren’t already settled—though she probably should have, since Tarina still hadn’t returned to her post as one of Sophie’s bodyguards.
Why are the negotiations stalled? she asked.
Why do you think? You and your friends uncovered an illegal hive hidden within our borders, filled with bloodthirsty, genetically manipulated newborns that were clearly part of an ongoing experiment.
Flashbacks of shredding claws and bloody teeth tore through Sophie’s brain, so it took her a second to catch the key word in that sentence.
Ongoing? Does that mean there are more hives?
That’s what the Council would like to find out. Particularly since Empress Pernille has now closed the borders to Marintrylla and requested a treaty similar to what King Dimitar demanded after the destruction at Ravagog. She wants to sever ties with the Lost Cites and keep the trolls isolated from everyone.
And just like that, Sophie was back in Mr. Forkle’s strange egg-shaped office, staring at a 3-D map of the world and listening to him explain how he believed that the Neverseen were trying to keep the other intelligent species fragmented and distracted, so they’d be too weak or busy to cause trouble when the Neverseen overthrew the Council.
She couldn’t decide if this proved their plan was working—or if they were creating an even bigger mess.
Probably both.
Do you think the Council will agree to the terms of Empress Pernille’s treaty? she asked.
Possibly. If she proves she’s not amassing a mutant newborn army.
Sophie shuddered. So THAT’S why you said we should talk telepathically. You didn’t want Ro and Sandor to know about this.
Actually, I’m sure their leaders are monitoring the situation just as closely as we are—if not more so. I suggested a mental conversation, because… there’s something else I need to share with you—and it will be far easier to show you than to try to explain it out loud. Particularly given your annoying propensity to interrupt.
Sophie wanted to argue with his insult, but she was too focused on what his offer meant.
You remembered something.
I did. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t already asked me about it, since you were the one to trigger the memory. The last time we spoke, when you mentioned “merged abilities.”
Goose bumps erupted across Sophie’s skin—mostly from irritation. You told me those words DIDN’T trigger any memories.
No, I said I wished they had—and that I needed time to process. Both of which were true. I knew something felt uncomfortably familiar, but I couldn’t connect it to anything—until this morning, when I woke up from a nightmare and realized it was actually a moment I’d lived.
His mind rumbled again—louder and longer this time—and the piles of memories shifted, clearing a narrow, winding path.
Sophie couldn’t tell where it led—only that it disappeared into the shadowy depths of his consciousness.
Nervous? he asked as Sophie studied the sludgy black. Or curious? Funny how those two emotions feel similar, isn’t it?
Actually, I’m mostly wondering why you’re suddenly so eager to share your secrets with me.
“EAGER” is the wrong word. But I’m WILLING to, because—as I keep assuring you—we’re on the same side. I want to protect my son any way I can. And I want to stop my wife every bit as much as you do—maybe more so, now that I know how far she’s willing to go.
How far is that?
See for yourself.
The path widened with the invitation—but his mind also sharpened.
With impatience, maybe?
Or something more ominous?
There was no way to tell—and Sophie was sure that if Keefe were there, he’d beg her not to follow his dad’s eerie path into the deep mental gloom.
But Keefe wasn’t there.
And Sophie needed answers. She didn’t get to choose who gave them to her.
So she took a long, steadying breath and gathered as much mental energy as she could muster.
Then she let her consciousness sink into the darkness.
FOUR
YOU OKAY THERE, BLONDIE?” RO called from somewhere far, far away. “You keep getting that little worry crease between your eyebrows—and it’s making Gigantor twitchy!”
Sophie couldn’t respond.
She could barely think.
Her mind was spinning, spinning, spinning as Lord Cassius’s mental path swooped and swerved and swayed through the shadows.
Her stomach wobbled and her brain throbbed, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing as she focused on a halo of gray in the distance.
Bit by bit—turn by turn—the light grew closer.
And brighter.
And so much colder.
She shivered—teeth chattering—as a mental blizzard roared to life, the ice scraping and stinging and whiting out the world.
Sorry, Lord Cassius told her, his voice like a ghost whispering on the wind. I don’t know how to lower these defenses. I didn’t even know I had them until this morning. But I’m assuming you can manage.
I can, Sophie assured him, charging deeper into the storm—shoving and thrashing and scratching until she crashed through some sort of frigid barrier.
Then she was falling, falling, falling.
Faster, faster, faster.
Through mist.
And shadow.
Into… warmth.
She sank into the blissful heat, studying the dim space she’d landed in.
It felt small.
And quiet.
And familiar.
A mental nook—almost exactly like the one she’d found in Alden’s mind.
My wife went to great lengths to ensure that I’d never recall the conversation you’re about to witness, Lord Cassius explained as a jagged shard of memory emerged from the fog. I honestly have no idea how I managed to preserve it.