“This isn’t about trust. It’s about risk. Like you said, you’ve become quite valuable to the Council. They’ve finally realized exactly how much they need you. So to put you in danger this way—”

“I’m always in danger!” Sophie pointed to where Sandor stood sentry by Verdi’s pasture—then to where Flori watched them from the edge of the tree line.

She’d gotten so used to being shadowed by bodyguards that she could almost forget they were there—particularly since she was down to only two now that Nubiti was the new queen of the dwarves. Tarina was still ironing things out with her empress after the incident with the illegal troll hive, and Bo was protecting Tam and Linh.

“This is a different level of danger,” Oralie insisted. “You’ve never dealt with a Forgotten Secret before.”

“Uh, pretty sure I have,” Sophie argued, loud enough to make sure Sandor heard the reminder. The last thing she needed was to have him think she was stepping into a new level of uncharted dangerous territory and shift into overprotective-goblin mode. “Someone’s cache has to be filled with all of the things Vespera did to get herself locked up in Lumenaria’s dungeon. But the Council didn’t bother coming clean after she escaped, so I got to learn about her crimes the hard way.”

The very hard way.

Like, having her human parents captured and tortured after Vespera went back to work on her evil experiments.

And Biana had scars all over her back, arms, and shoulders from when Vespera tried to kill her.

“I suppose you’re right,” Oralie murmured. “But that should make you all the more cautious. Forgotten Secrets aren’t erased simply to protect the sanity of the Councillors. They’re often truths that could send our world spiraling into chaos.”

“Yeah, well, what else is new?” Sophie’s eyes locked with Sandor’s, and thankfully he didn’t argue.

But he did seem to be gripping the hilt of his giant black sword a whole lot tighter.

Oralie stepped closer. “I’m not telling you this because I’m going back on our deal—or because I’m trying to scare you. I just… need to make sure you’re truly prepared for the turbulent waters ahead. I can’t bear having any more regrets when it comes to you.”

Sophie rolled her eyes.

The words were probably meant to be touching—but she knew all Oralie was really trying to do was allay her own guilt if something bad happened.

Oralie sighed. “I realize you’re angry with me, Sophie. And I’m not trying to start another fight. But regardless of what you may think, I do… care about you. And someday I hope you’ll understand the difficult position I—”

“I won’t!”

“You might. Things feel so much bigger when you’re young. So much more absolute. But… love isn’t as black-and-white as you believe it to be. It comes in many colors, many forms—”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure none of them involve lying to someone for years, or signing your daughter up to be part of a genetic experiment!”

“It can,” Oralie whispered, wrapping her arms around her waist, “when that’s the only way to have a daughter.”

The last word sounded different than the others, and for a second, Sophie found herself meeting Oralie’s stare and wishing the Black Swan had made her an Empath. Then she would’ve been able to tell if the sadness and longing she could see in Oralie’s eyes were actually real.

But it didn’t matter.

“It wasn’t the only way,” Sophie reminded her. “You just wanted to keep your precious position on the Council.”

“I did,” Oralie agreed, reaching up and tracing her fingers over the jewels in her circlet. “But that isn’t just about me. It might’ve started out that way when I was first elected. But you have no idea what kind of chaos would ensue if I were to leave—especially for a scandal like this.”

Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but…

She’d unfortunately already come to the same frustrating conclusion.

The Lost Cities were in turmoil, and losing another Councillor could give the Neverseen the opening they needed to finally take over.

That was why Sophie hadn’t told anyone the truth about Oralie.

Not even Fitz.

Despite how much the secret had cost her.

Her heart turned sharp and heavy at the reminder, like a lump of shrapnel slowly shredding the inside of her chest.

She’d gotten used to their “breakup”—if that was even the right term for what had happened between her and Fitz. But that didn’t mean she was over it. Or that part of her didn’t still wish…

“I’m sorry,” Oralie said, stepping closer. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you have.”

“I know. And… I have to live with that.”

Oralie’s voice cracked—and the sound made Sophie’s resolve crack a little too.

But her shrapnel heart snapped her out of it.

Her hands curled into fists. “Yeah, well I get to live with being unmatchable. So I win.”

Worst. Victory. Ever.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie. Truly.”

Sophie jerked away when Oralie reached for her. “Just stop it, okay? You’re wasting time.”

“Actually… I’m not. We needed my tears, didn’t we?” Oralie blinked, showing how glassy her eyes had gotten. “I knew the easiest way to trigger them was to remind myself of how much you hate me.”

“Oh.”

It was the only thing Sophie could think to say.

She was so tired of feeling sorry for people who didn’t deserve her sympathy.

“How do you know that starting with tears is the right order for the cache?” she asked, getting back to a subject that actually mattered.

“Because my mind’s been fixated on a phrase ever since I started trying to piece together the steps. Truth starts below.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“No, it’s a clue I left for myself. And it’s not about the words—though I’m sure I chose them because they sound mysterious enough to catch my attention. The secret’s in their first letters. T. S. B. Tears, sweat, then blood.”

“You’re sure?” Sophie had to ask as Oralie reached up to wipe the corners of her eyes.

“Positive.”

Her voice didn’t waver—but Sophie noticed that Oralie held her breath as she smeared her damp fingertip across the curve of the cache.

“Should something be happening?” Sophie asked after several endless seconds.

“Not yet. I’ve only begun the sequence.” Oralie swept the long tendrils of her hair over her left shoulder. “These ringlets are so heavy—they always make my neck glisten.”

“Glisten?”

Oralie nodded, and Sophie begrudgingly had to admit that Oralie did look more shimmery than sweaty as she brushed her finger along her hairline and swiped it across the cache—which still didn’t respond.

“Now for the part I’ve been dreading.” Oralie bit her lip as she removed one of the golden pins securing her circlet. “The rational side of me knows I’ll only feel a tiny prick, but… I think you must get your needle phobia from me.”