Lord Cassius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need to explain myself to anyone—least of all to a teenager with an inflated sense of self-importance. But, since you seem to think you have everything all figured out, it might interest you to know that I’ve been working on an assignment from the Black Swan.”

He paused to let that sink in—let her wonder what the Black Swan might be hiding from her.

Sophie refused to ask any questions.

“Your stubbornness has gotten much stronger since you first arrived in our world,” Lord Cassius noted. “Perhaps this new separation from my son will help you learn better deference and respect.”

“You told him about that?” she asked Fitz—then realized she probably should’ve transmitted the question.

Lord Cassius looked much too pleased with her response.

She couldn’t take the words back, though, so she decided to remind Fitz, “He went along willingly with Lady Gisela’s plans for Keefe’s legacy. So he’s just as much to blame for what’s happening to Keefe as she is.”

“The only thing I’m to blame for,” Lord Cassius argued, “is wanting the best for my son.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “No, you wanted the best for yourself. You wanted to be the father of someone powerful and important and special, so that maybe people would think you were powerful and important and special too—but all they’re going to think is that you’re a creepy jerk who let his wife experiment on his family. And the really sad thing is, Keefe would’ve been all of those things without you messing with his abilities. So you put him through this nightmare for no reason.”

Lord Cassius’s glare felt colder than staring down a Froster. But when he spoke, all he said was “Interesting.”

“What is?” Fitz demanded when Sophie stayed silent.

Lord Cassius kept his focus on Sophie. “Should I tell him what you’re feeling right now?”

“Don’t bother.” She turned to Fitz. “I’m trying to decide if I’d rather inflict on him or zap him a few times with this melder.”

She patted the pocket hiding her weapon.

“Interesting,” Lord Cassius repeated, his lips twitching with something between a smile and a scowl. “Seems you’ve also picked up my son’s habit of using jokes to deflect attention. But they never fully mask what you’re hiding, do they?” He waved his hands through the air again before shaking his head and dropping his arms to his sides. “Actually, it seems like you’re even hiding these feelings from yourself—and I have neither the patience nor the desire to deal with adolescent drama. So I’m just going to say this: Hate me all you want—blame me all you want. It won’t change anything. And it won’t make you feel any better.”

“Probably not. That’s why I’m leaning toward using the melder.” Sophie patted her pocket again. “It’s so much less exhausting than inflicting, but equally painful.”

“Okay, it’s official,” Grizel said, applauding as she stepped out of the shadows near Candleshade’s vortinator. “I’m a big fan of this new Sophie. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve always been a fierce little force of nature,” she added when Sophie frowned. “But this is a whole other level of confidence—and I’m here for it!”

“So am I,” Flori agreed.

“Me too.”

Fitz’s voice was quiet enough that Sophie almost wondered if she’d imagined it. But she dared a quick look at his face and found him focused right on her.

And when their eyes met?

Man, she’d missed having him smile at her.

His smile was more tentative than it used to be—and her heart was too shrapnel-filled to react.

But it was still a nice change.

A tiny shift that helped her believe they could save their friendship.

“Anyway,” Lord Cassius said, reaching up to smooth his hair, “you still haven’t explained why you’re here—with two bodyguards, no less. Clearly it wasn’t to see me, even though this is my home.”

“Before we get to that,” Grizel cut in, “how about we finish the conversation we were having, before we were interrupted?” She side-eyed Sandor with the last word.

“If you’d told me that you were coming here, I could’ve coordinated our arrival,” Sandor reminded her.

“That argument applies just as easily to you, Captain Cuddles,” Grizel countered, bopping his flat nose with her finger.

“Captain Cuddles?” Flori asked, giggling as Sandor’s gray skin took on a pinkish hue. “Can we all use that title?”

“No,” Sandor told her, at the same time Grizel said, “Absolutely!”

Sandor let out a squeaky growl. “Can we focus?”

“I suppose we can try.” Grizel turned back to Lord Cassius. “In case you’ve forgotten, you were about to tell us about your wife’s abilities.”

“No, I was about to reiterate that—as far as I know—she only has one. And yes, I’m sure it is possible that she’s been hiding a second ability, since, as you know, Gisela has no problem erasing memories—or lying. But, I do remember asking her once if she was bothered by the fact that most Polyglots have an additional talent, and the disappointment and frustration I felt from her would be hard to fake.”

“Unless she was disappointed and frustrated that she couldn’t tell you about her other ability,” Fitz suggested.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Lord Cassius admitted. “But the real question is: Why does it matter? I assure you, if my wife could’ve affected people with her voice the way you say my son now can, there’s no way she would’ve been able to resist using the ability for all this time.”

He had a point.

And Sophie tried to find that comforting, since Lady Gisela would be almost unstoppable if she could do what Keefe did.

But it also meant that Lady Gisela must have an elaborate plan for how to make Keefe use his new ability the way she wanted.

And her plans usually succeeded.

“It matters,” Fitz told Lord Cassius, “because Councillor Oralie thinks the numbing command that Keefe used might not be a sign of a new ability. She thought it sounded more like the elements made his empathy merge with his new Polyglot senses, and that’s why he’s able to affect emotions with his voice. So I figured it’d be smart to make sure there aren’t any other abilities that Keefe might’ve inherited.”

“Merged abilities,” Lord Cassius said quietly.

“Did that word trigger any memories?” Sophie asked when he turned to pace the foyer.

“I wish.” He reached up to rub his temples, crossing the length of the room twice more before he added, “But it does feel…”

“Feel?” Fitz prompted.

When Lord Cassius stayed silent, he added, “Would it help if we did another probe? Or I could try to do it myself, if…”

His eyes darted to Sophie, like he wasn’t sure if he should suggest working together.

But Sophie was more interested in the way Lord Cassius had frozen midstep—foot dangling in the air—the second Fitz had mentioned searching his mind.