Sophie tightened her grip on his hand. “You can’t. We only have one obscurer—and people would definitely notice a cute guy in a cape flying up to the top of the streetlamp.”

“So what you’re saying is… you think I’m cute,” Fitz noted with a grin.

Keefe groaned. “If you guys go Fitzphie on me right now, I swear, I’ll drag us all into the river.”

“Or how about I levitate us up to the top of the streetlamp and we check for a hidden crystal?” Fitz countered.

“There’s no need,” a familiar voice informed them—a voice that made Sophie want to scream or hide or find something really sharp to fling.

But she did none of those things.

Neither did Keefe or Fitz.

They simply stared in fascinated horror at the black-cloaked figure striding through the middle of the street, making all the cars honk and swerve around them.

“Congratulations!” Lady Gisela shouted, tossing back her hood. A net of beaded silver covered her immaculate blond updo—probably some gadget meant to block abilities—and her ice blue eyes studied her son with the strangest mix of delight and disdain as she added, “You found what you were looking for!”

THIRTY-FIVE

A THOUSAND THOUGHTS SCREAMED THROUGH SOPHIE’S head.

Strategies.

Problems.

Solutions.

But one word clawed its way to the front of the chaos.

Inflict.

This was why she’d reset her abilities.

The thing Lady Gisela wasn’t prepared for.

Their chance for escape—for victory!

Inflict. Inflict. Inflict.

But when Sophie dived into her rage and terror, the darkness didn’t boil over.

It stayed deep in her mind, stewing and brewing—waiting for… something.

A spark to the kindling.

A burst of energy.

A command Sophie didn’t know—and couldn’t figure out.

She wanted to wail and thrash and squeeze her brain until it surrendered—but she didn’t have time for any of those things.

“Looks like the moonlark’s learned some restraint,” Lady Gisela said as she strode up onto the sidewalk, only steps away from them.

Her face looked extra pale in the glow of the streetlight, turning downright ghostly when her cheeks pulled into a warped smile. After Fintan’s betrayal, Lady Gisela had been covered in curved scars—but those were gone now, replaced by skin stretched too tightly across her bones.

“How can you see us?” Sophie wondered as she backed up, positioning herself between Fitz and Keefe.

The pedestrians around them still didn’t seem to be able to tell they were there—and no one seemed to see Keefe’s mom anymore either. Several people were shouting to each other, wondering where the “freaky lady” had gone. Others were scurrying into the night, trusting their instincts over their eyes.

Sophie wished she could tell them all to run faster.

But they wouldn’t hear her.

“Obscurers can easily be detected—and controlled,” Lady Gisela explained to her. “And put the weapon away, Keefe,” she ordered.

Sophie’s heart stopped when she turned and spotted the goblin throwing star clutched in Keefe’s right hand—and the hateful determination in his eyes.

His mom wagged a finger at him, like he was a naughty toddler. “None of that. We’re going to have a quick chat—and we’re going to keep it free of flying weapons, since those could hit any of these nice, innocent people trying to be brave and stick to their paths. You wouldn’t want to harm anyone else, would you?”

“What do you mean ‘else’?” Keefe spat through gritted teeth, rising so easily to her bait.

His mom smiled wider. “You know very well who I mean. Why would we be here otherwise?”

The blow was aimed perfectly, and Keefe stumbled back, his body shaking, shaking, shaking.

Sophie tried to reach for him, but he pulled too far away.

“You can drop the knife, Fitz,” Lady Gisela added, and Sophie spun around, gaping at the finger-length dagger she hadn’t noticed in Fitz’s hand.

Apparently, she’d been the only one too naive to bring any weapons.

If something happens to you or your friends, Sandor had warned her, you’re going to have to live with it!

But her abilities were supposed to protect her.

And this was supposed to be a quick visit.

A spontaneous visit.

“How did you know we were here?” she whispered, even though she could probably guess Lady Gisela’s answer.

“Unlike the Black Swan, we monitor our paths closely,” Lady Gisela told her. “This one in particular, since I knew my son’s journey would soon lead you here. It actually took you longer than I expected for you to put everything together. It’s been somewhat disappointing—though I suppose you’ve been busy playing mascot to the Council. Look at you, wearing their shiny Regent pin on your cape, even as you rebel. Such mixed signals. Such bravado. And I mean it, Fitz—dagger down.”

“Or what?” Fitz countered, raising the blade and squinting one eye—lining up his aim. “You keep giving orders, but all I see is a Polyglot in an ugly cloak who knows how to manipulate her son’s emotions. Without one of Ruy’s force fields to shield you, I don’t see why I can’t end you right here, right now.”

Lady Gisela inclined her head. “You know, I believe you really would do it. Such a dark side you’ve turned out to have. Particularly ironic given how much you condemn your brother—and yet I see more violence in your eyes than I’ve ever seen in his.”

Fitz gripped his dagger harder. “I have no problem ending the enemy. My conscience will be clear.”

“Will it?” Lady Gisela asked, raising one eyebrow when Fitz nodded. “You know, I almost want to let you do it. It’s always fascinating to witness the folly of arrogance. But I’m not done with our Shade yet. So allow me to show you why you won’t be hurling any weapons at me—and neither will my son. This is why you’re going to cooperate for the rest of this conversation.”

She backed up a step, giving her widest smile yet as she commanded, “Show yourself.”

And the shadows in front of her thinned and faded—as if someone was peeling back a series of dark veils one by one, revealing a second black-cloaked figure with outstretched arms, standing as a living shield in front of Lady Gisela.

And Sophie knew—knew—who the figure had to be.

She clutched her stomach, trying to hold herself together as Lady Gisela pulled back the figure’s hood, revealing a familiar face half hidden by dark, silver-tipped bangs.

And there was genuine fear in his silver-flecked eyes as Sophie whispered, “Tam?”

THIRTY-SIX

LAUGHTER DRAGGED SOPHIE OUT OF her shocked daze.

Joyless, hysterical laughter that went on and on—until Keefe was clutching his sides and wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Enough with the theatrics,” Lady Gisela told him.

Keefe snorted. “You’re complaining about my theatrics? Isn’t this the epic showdown you’ve been planning where you order Tammy Boy to kill me? Thanks for the warning about that, by the way,” he told Tam. “As you can see, it worked super well.”