Sophie shook her head. “Not this time. All you’ll have to do is run beside me.”

Or she hoped that was how it would work.

She wasn’t 100 percent certain, since the times she’d teleported the other way, she’d either been alone or carrying somebody.

But they were about to find out.

She pulled open the front door and studied Havenfield’s pastures. Most of the longer paths went uphill, but the one that led to the cliffs stayed mostly flat, which would hopefully make it easier to build up momentum—and if it didn’t work, they could always change plans and jump off the edge.

“Okay,” she said, reaching for Sandor with one hand and Flori with the other. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to rally her concentration. “Here goes nothing.”

* * *

“For the record,” Sandor grumbled as they struggled to stop their sprint, “that was worse than jumping off a cliff.”

Sophie disagreed—though she also wasn’t sure if she knew exactly what had happened.

One second she’d been running—channeling energy to her legs to go faster, faster, faster. Then Sandor and Flori had started to lag behind, so she’d tightened her grip and pushed herself even harder. Next thing she knew, her feet were barely touching the ground, and Sandor and Flori were half floating, half flailing as she dragged them into the void.

Then she pictured Candleshade, and they were there, stumbling along the overgrown path that led to the main entrance.

“I thought it was exhilarating,” Flori breathed. “Such a special glimpse of the moonlark’s strength and power.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sophie mumbled, bending to lower her head between her knees.

Now that she’d stopped running, everything was spinning and her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

“I do,” Flori insisted. “You carried both of us as though we were dandelion seeds caught on a breeze. And while I may be small, Sandor definitely isn’t.”

Sandor straightened to his full height, and Sophie had to admit that it was kind of amazing that she’d been able to drag him along so easily. Her arms didn’t even feel sore—though that might change once the adrenaline wore off.

“Impressive or not,” Sandor said, arching his back into a stretch, “I prefer free-falling. Particularly since it encourages you to limit the ability to absolute necessity.”

“What he means,” Flori told Sophie, “is he doesn’t like that you can now go anywhere, anytime, without needing one of your crystals, or a cliff, or me to sing to the roots to carry you. All you need is a bit of speed. And I’m happy for you to have that freedom—and proud to watch the moonlark find her wings. I just hope you’ll continue carrying me with you.”

“I don’t hope, I insist,” Sandor corrected, gripping the hilt of his sword. “I go where you go.”

Sophie wanted to roll her eyes. But her lips curled into a small smile instead. “Believe me, I know. I didn’t argue about bringing you with me today, did I? And all I’m doing is searching an empty house!”

She straightened up, needing a few more breaths for her vision to clear enough to focus on the enormous, multi-spired crystal tower in front of them, which was probably designed to be equally impressive and intimidating. But all Sophie felt was sadness.

So many horrible, traumatic things had happened to Keefe inside those shimmering walls, and she found herself wishing she could tear them down, block by block.

Maybe someday she would.

For now, she was about to waste an afternoon searching through dusty, abandoned rooms and finding nothing useful—which was a terrible attitude, she knew. But she’d done these kinds of searches too many times to have any real hope.

Still, she made her way to the front door, which looked disproportionately small compared to the two-hundred-story structure.

“Do you think we should knock?” she wondered.

Sandor sniffed the air. “Yes. Because we’re not the only ones here.”

Sophie reached for her melder. “Who—”

Before she could finish the question, the door opened, and there was Lord Cassius, looking as arrogant and pristine as ever.

But the real surprise was the boy standing beside him, staring guiltily at his feet as she whispered, “Fitz?”

- SIX - KEEFE

Wow, you’re really not going to talk?” Dex asked, resting his hands on his hips as he turned a slow circle to study Keefe’s extra sparkly new bedroom. “I figured Elwin was either exaggerating that part, or you were messing with him.”

Keefe pressed his lips tighter and shook his head.

His throat felt thick and scratchy from the lack of use. But he wasn’t going to risk it, because even with the sedative, he’d spent most of the night dreaming about Sophie’s eerie blank stare.

Was that what his mom wanted?

Was he her way of neutralizing the Black Swan’s moonlark?

Or was that only the beginning?

His mom craved power and control—and now she’d given him an ability that let him turn everyone around him into useless, mindless shells.

People with no feelings.

No fear.

No guilt.

And if they were given the right commands?

Boom—instant ruthless army!

Ro sighed and turned to Dex. “In case you were wondering, he’s overthinking everything right now. I don’t know what he’s imagining, but he keeps getting all shuddery, so I’m guessing it’s something super melodramatic, like him single-handedly destroying the world with the sound of his voice. Who knew our Hunkyhair was an even bigger worrier than Blondie?”

Dex grinned. But his dimples faded when his gaze shifted back to Keefe. “Elwin said you needed my help?”

Keefe nodded—then swallowed back a belch, which tasted like the awful, gurgley elixir Elwin had given him that morning.

His new superstrong empathy had faded after the numbing disaster, but the little sleep he’d gotten had apparently brought it back with a vengeance. And Elwin had made the elixir specifically to try to dull his senses—but the mix of curiosity and confusion drifting from Dex’s general direction made it pretty clear that the medicine had been a fail.

Hopefully Keefe would have better luck with Dex’s help.

He pointed to his throat, and then his forehead, trying to show Dex what he needed.

“Some Nogginease?” Dex guessed.

Keefe shook his head and tried pulling on the choker-style band of his registry pendant.

“Um… you want to hack into the registry again?” Dex tried.

Ro snorted. “Wow, you guys are super bad at this. How about I save us all some time and speak for my boy? Okay, so Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows—”

“Who?” Dex interrupted.

Ro shrugged. “No idea. Can’t remember his name. You guys have way too many leaders to keep them all straight. All I know is the dude had these huge hairy things above his eyes and a jewel from his crown rested right between them, so I’m calling him Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows. Anyway, he said my boy’s new elf-y ability is linked to the tone of his voice, and he seemed pretty sure about it. So, assuming he’s right, we need you to use your techy skills to build a gadget that’ll give Hunkyhair better control over that, kinda like you did for Blondie to help with her power-boost-touch thing. And personally, I vote for something that makes his voice extra high-pitched and squeaky—although it could also be fun to make him sound super creepy. Ooo, is there a way to have it switch back and forth?”