A blond Empath.

Who’d always supported the Black Swan.

And the fact that she was a Councillor would definitely explain why her identity had to be kept secret.

And the more those thoughts swirled around in Sophie’s head, the more solid they started to feel.

The more settled.

Final.

Real.

So before she could think it through or change her mind, Sophie lunged forward, grabbing Oralie’s wrist as she blurted out, “You’re my mother… aren’t you?”

And when Oralie said, “No!” there were three more skipped heartbeats.

FORTY-THREE

YOU ARE,” SOPHIE BREATHED, STILL not letting go of Oralie’s wrist. “You’re… my biological mother.”

Oralie met her gaze, and Sophie searched Oralie’s face—her features—for some similarity.

Some final confirmation.

But it turned out that Sophie didn’t need it.

Because this time Oralie told her, “Yes.”

And there were no missed heartbeats.

Just a pulse that was hammering as loud and fast and erratically as Sophie’s.

And for a long breath, they just stared at each other.

And stared.

And stared.

Until Oralie said, “Sophie, I…”

And Sophie waited for her to finish that sentence.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But all she got at the end was Oralie telling her, “I… can’t do this.”

“I don’t care!” Sophie shouted, tightening her grip on Oralie’s arm.

Oralie could drag her across the floor if she wanted to—but she didn’t get to run away from this conversation.

Not after…

Sophie’s mind played through every smile that Oralie had given her over the years.

Every kind word she’d ever said.

They used to mean so much.

But now they would never be enough.

There were too many lies.

Mountains of them—piling up in Sophie’s head.

Smothering her.

Crushing her.

“I know you’re angry,” Oralie murmured—and Sophie had to laugh.

“Did you figure that out on your own?” she asked. “Or because you’re an Empath?”

Empath. Empath. Empath.

Her biological mom was an Empath.

Her biological mom was Oralie.

COUNCILLOR Oralie.

And with that word came another avalanche of realizations.

Accusations.

“You let the Council threaten to exile me!” Sophie snapped. “And you let them force Dex’s ability restrictor onto my head! And you let them banish me! And—”

“I’m one vote, Sophie,” Oralie interrupted. “One. Vote. Out of twelve. I did as much as I could—but I could only do so much.”

“Right,” Sophie said quietly. “You had to make sure no one would ever find out the truth—because if they did…”

Her voice abandoned her as the full reality of her situation clicked in.

No one could ever know.

It was the same realization she’d had when she’d thought her father was Councillor Bronte—only so much worse.

Because Oralie was beloved by the people.

Vital to the Black Swan.

Essential to the Council.

She was the only one who could keep everyone honest.

Even though she’d lied and lied and lied.

And if Sophie told anyone the truth… If Oralie was kicked off of the Council…

The loss.

The chaos.

It couldn’t happen.

Even if it meant…

Oralie sighed.

And the soft sound felt worse than a slap.

“This must be so tiring for you,” Sophie told her. “Having to actually face your daughter and admit how much you’ve ruined her life.”

“Ruined?” Oralie repeated.

Her tone was flat.

Emotionless.

And it wasn’t fair.

She didn’t get to be calm about this.

“I’m unmatchable!” Sophie shouted, needing something to throw or kick or…

The jeweled table.

Her free arm flipped it over, sending everything on it clattering across the floor.

Her gloves.

Dex’s gadgets.

Oralie’s circlet.

It landed at Sophie’s feet, and she wanted to step on it with her full weight, jump up and down until the metal was a bent tangle and the jewels were a smattering of glitter.

But then Oralie told her, “Go ahead.”

And the rage shifted.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Sophie said, kicking the circlet across the room so she wouldn’t be tempted anymore. “You don’t get to pretend like you care—”

“I do care!” Oralie insisted.

Sophie laughed. “You let me be part of an experiment! Left me with humans for twelve years! Ignored me as much as you could once Fitz brought me here—”

“I’ve never ignored you!” Oralie argued.

“Really?” Sophie countered. “Then where were you when Grady and Edaline freaked out and canceled my adoption?”

Oralie flinched. “Alden and Della—”

“Alden and Della stepped in and offered to raise your daughter,” Sophie jumped in. “And you were just going to let them.”

“Sophie, I couldn’t—”

“No, I get it,” Sophie told her. “You couldn’t let anyone know. Just like you can’t let anyone know now, even though I’ll be stuck being unmatchable—”

“Sophie—”

“Just like you couldn’t stand up for Prentice!” Sophie added—and somehow Oralie managed to turn even paler.

A ghost of her pretty pink self.

“I didn’t know Prentice was hiding you,” she whispered. “When I found out… I’ve never been so ill.”

“But you knew he was part of the Black Swan,” Sophie argued. “And I’m assuming you knew they were the good guys, since you volunteered your future child for Project Moonlark.”

“You don’t think the Black Swan could ever have a traitor?” Oralie asked her. “Back then, everything was murky. There was no clear line between the Black Swan and the Neverseen as far as anyone could tell. Some people didn’t even believe there were two groups. And I’d been given zero information—”

“You must’ve been told something if you were willing to give them your DNA!” Sophie pressed.

“Yes, I was told that I could help them create something—”

“Something,” Sophie interrupted.

“A wake-up call,” Oralie clarified. “A force for change and good, who would make our world pay attention in a way that no one else ever could. Make people see things for what they are, not what we thought they were.”

“And you thought, ‘Sounds like a perfect job for my child.’ ”

“No,” Oralie said, turning toward one of the windows and staring out at the stars. “I thought it sounded like the only way I’d ever be able to have a child.”

She left the words there, waiting to see what Sophie would do with them.