“They are connected,” Sophie admitted. “But I wasn’t talking to Keefe.”

“Then who were you talking to?” Bo called from the doorway.

Sophie sighed, knowing the truth would cost her precious time. But when she tried to pull free again, Sandor was much too strong. “I… reached out to Tam.”

Sandor’s grip tightened and he leaned back, studying her from head to toe like he was searching for injuries. “What did that traitor do to you?”

“Nothing!”

“Stop using that word as your answer for everything!” he snapped.

“But it’s true! And he’s not a traitor!” She twisted free of his grasp—anger bringing back her strength. “You know Tam. How can you call him that?”

And yet, even as she asked the question, she could hear Mr. Forkle telling her, There are very few things Mr. Tam wouldn’t do to protect his sister.

And that didn’t even take into consideration how the shadowflux might influence him.

She wasn’t going to forget the sharpness of his thoughts—or the chill—for a very long time.

“As your bodyguard, I must view anyone choosing to live with the enemy as a traitor,” Sandor insisted. “And what he did to you today proves why that distinction is necessary.”

“He didn’t do anything,” she argued, clinging to the reminder with an iron grasp. “He used shadowflux to pass along an important warning—at huge risk to himself. And I guess whatever’s left of my echoes reacted to it. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal,” Sandor argued. “He should’ve known that would happen and—”

“Well, he didn’t,” she interrupted. “Or… maybe he did and figured it was worth the risk—which is the same thing I did when I reached out to him telepathically.”

She was trying very hard not to think about what the Neverseen might do to punish Tam for their conversation. Hopefully the show Tam put on would convince Gethen that he’d remained loyal.

“And it’s a good thing we talked,” she added, “because Mr. Forkle was right. The Neverseen are planning to use Tam for something. That’s why I have to talk to Keefe.”

Sandor blocked her as she headed for the door. “You can hail Mr. Sencen on your Imparter if you’d like. But you’re staying here. And you’re getting back into bed.”

Sophie shook her head.

This wasn’t the kind of conversation she could have through a tiny handheld screen. She needed to be there in person, to make sure that Keefe was really listening—and so he couldn’t turn off his Imparter if they ended up arguing.

And to give him a good long hug if he needed it too.

“I’ll rest when I get back,” she promised.

“Perhaps we should see how your mother feels about that plan,” Sandor countered, blocking her again. “Do you really think she’d want you leaving this room after how close you came to a major setback to your recovery?”

He had a point.

But Sophie couldn’t afford to be babied right now. “I know my limits. I wouldn’t go if I couldn’t handle it.”

Sandor snorted. “Right, because you never push yourself too hard.”

“Maybe it would help if you explained what’s so urgent,” Flori suggested when Sandor blocked Sophie yet again—and she seriously considered kicking him in the shin. “What do you need to tell Mr. Sencen that can’t wait until morning?”

Tam’s horrible warning lodged in Sophie’s throat, and she knew she wouldn’t have the energy to repeat the words more than once. So she reached for her temples, pretending to feel faint, and waited until Sandor moved to steady her—then launched past him with a spin move that was shockingly graceful, given her general clumsiness.

“See?” she called over her shoulder. “I’m fine!”

Bo raised his arms to barricade the door, but Sophie ducked underneath, earning herself lots of growls as she raced up the stairs to Havenfield’s gleaming fourth-floor cupola, which existed mostly to house the large sparkling orb hanging from the ceiling, made up of hundreds of small round crystals dangling off nearly invisible cords.

The Leapmaster 500.

None of the crystals would take Sophie where she needed to go, but they weren’t the reason she’d headed there.

“Absolutely not!” Sandor bellowed as she made her way to the largest window and flipped the latch to open the glass. “You’re not jumping off of any towers today.”

“I wasn’t planning on jumping.”

The fourth floor probably wasn’t tall enough to give her the momentum she’d need to teleport, so she was going to have to levitate higher first. Usually she leaped off of one of the cliffs at the edge of the property, but this was closer and faster—or it would’ve been, if she didn’t have two gorilla-size bodyguards shoving their way in front of her and forming a wall of impenetrable muscle.

“Tell. Me. What’s. Going. On!” Sandor demanded.

“You’ll find out when we get there.” A hint of a smirk curled her lips when his scowl softened. “What? You thought I wasn’t going to take you with me?”

“Past experience has shown that to be your preference,” he noted.

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned to pick my battles. So can we go now? Or do you want to keep wasting time and being super annoying?” She offered him her left hand.

Bo grabbed it first.

“We’re just going to Keefe’s house,” Sophie reminded him, trying to wriggle free without losing her glove. “I don’t need to bring the whole cavalry.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Bo argued.

She couldn’t necessarily disagree, considering all the “safe” places where she’d ended up getting attacked over the last few years. But that didn’t change the basic physics of their situation. “My levitating’s only strong enough to carry one of you.”

“Then you should bring me,” Bo insisted. “My senses are far superior. As are my fighting techniques.”

Sandor snorted a squeaky laugh.

“If you go,” Sophie jumped in before she had to suffer through another round of the ogres-versus-goblins debate, “I’m sure Keefe will make you listen to more of The Ballad of Bo and Ro.”

Bo’s lips curled back, revealing his pointed teeth.

His relationship with Keefe’s ogre-princess bodyguard was equal parts tumultuous and complicated, a fact that Keefe never missed an opportunity to torment the two of them about—generally in the form of an epic poem that kept getting mushier with each new stanza. And Sophie couldn’t blame Keefe for the teasing. Not only did Bo’s and Ro’s names rhyme, but it turned out that they were also secretly married, thanks to a betrothal arranged by Ro’s father—King Dimitar—in an attempt to protect them when his time as king was over. The ogre seat of power was earned instead of inherited, and Dimitar didn’t want either of his top warriors fighting against each other in the battles-to-the-death that would follow his surrender or demise—not when they would be so much more powerful ruling together. So he made them marry, hoping the alliance would spur one of them to back down whenever the time came.