But…

She still felt the tiniest glint of hope.

It wasn’t even a full spark—and she did her best to smother it.

But it was still there.

A glimmer of possibility.

A faint whisper that maybe… maybe once pride had faded and tempers had cooled…

Nope, she couldn’t let herself go there.

Before she went to bed, she even forced herself to pack away all of the tiny gifts he’d given her—and she also made herself sleep in her room.

She needed to find her new normal—cling to it with all the strength she had.

But Fitz’s face still crept into her dreams.

And when she made her way down to the pastures the next morning and noticed teal ribbons tied around Wynn’s and Luna’s necks, Sophie’s heart did about fifty backflips—and then did fifty more when she saw the tiny folded notes dangling from each of the bows.

Her hands shook as she untied them, and she needed a deep breath before she read them—and then the world was spinning and her vision was dimming and she had to drop to her knees to keep herself from passing out.

Because the notes weren’t in Fitz’s familiar writing.

One had particularly loopy, pretty letters—so at odds with the harsh, threatening words:

You think you’re safe.

And you think you’ve thwarted our plans.

But you’re wrong.

We can destroy everything you care about.

We can finish your friend.

And that will only be the beginning.

Or you can meet us in Loamnore tomorrow,

10 p.m. in the main marketplace.

Don’t be late.

The second note was somehow even worse.

It was stamped with the same symbol that Sophie had seen on the letter that Keefe had delivered in London: two crescents forming a loose circle around a glowing star.

And across that, in Lady Gisela’s familiar handwriting, it said:

Bring Keefe.

~XOXO

FORTY-SIX

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?”

That was the question that everyone kept asking after Sophie handed the Neverseen’s notes over to Sandor and unleashed a hurricane of panic and confusion.

How did this happen?

How did the Neverseen get past Sandor’s abundant security?

But what Sophie wanted to know was: What are we going to do about it?

No one had an answer.

And they needed to find one—fast.

So she hailed all of her teammates and told them to come to Havenfield. Same with Linh, Marella, and Maruca. And Keefe, since it sadly didn’t seem like they’d be able to keep him completely out of this.

The only person she didn’t hail was Fitz—but she didn’t need to because she told Biana to take care of that.

That was how she was going to survive this breakup.

Delegating!

Avoiding eye contact!

Hiding!

All of which were particularly easy to do later that day, given the size of the crowd that had crammed into Havenfield’s living room once everyone made their way there to argue about their next move: Grady and Edaline, Mr. Forkle and Tiergan, Lord Cassius, numerous bodyguards, all of Sophie’s friends—and, of course, all twelve Councillors.

And thankfully, The Councillor Who Didn’t Deserve Sophie’s Time seemed to be using her own avoidance strategies: keeping her head down, hiding her face behind her ringlets, and standing in the center of all the other Councillors.

Sophie pretended not to notice her.

She also pretended not to notice that Fitz had chosen to stand on the opposite side of the room from where she was hiding in the shadows of the staircase.

“Everything okay?” Keefe asked, and Sophie jumped, wondering how long he’d been there.

Surely long enough to read her mood, so she told him, “Um, the Neverseen just gave us an ultimatum—and they tied it around Wynn’s and Luna’s necks.”

“Yeah, and their notes didn’t even rhyme!” he added, clicking his tongue. “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to shape a threat into a clever couplet or two?”

He elbowed her when she didn’t laugh, and sighed when she glared at him.

“In all seriousness,” he told her, “you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to let my mom hurt anyone.”

“See, and I’m more worried about her hurting you,” Sophie countered.

“Nah. She needs me. Remember: I have a legacy. In fact, I should probably give myself a title at this point—but the Legacyanator doesn’t have quite the right ring, does it? What about Lord Legacy? I could see that embroidered on a tunic.”

Sophie shook her head. “You’re not going to make me laugh about this.”

“Challenge accepted!”

Keefe said something else, but it was drowned out by the arguing, which seemed to have reached a whole new decibel. Sophie hadn’t been paying attention, since it was basically the same conversation they’d had before the Celestial Festival—in that exact same room, no less—with everyone fighting over who should and shouldn’t go and trying to anticipate what the Neverseen were planning.

They’d had an equally long debate before their venture into Nightfall—and before the ogre Peace Summit in Lumenaria. And before they’d headed into Ravagog. And before they’d tried to ambush the Neverseen on Mount Everest.

Even the night Sophie had gone to have her abilities healed had taken all kinds of discussion.

That’s what they did.

Overanalyze.

Overprepare.

And it never worked.

We can’t keep doing this.

The words started out like static in the back of Sophie’s mind, but the more they repeated, the louder and louder they grew until she heard them ringing through the room and realized she’d actually said them.

All heads turned her way, and Sophie tilted her chin up, trying to look confident as she repeated, “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Mr. Forkle asked.

“This.” She waved her arms at everyone. “All of this exhausting scheming. It never works. The Neverseen always have some twist planned, and then everything falls apart.”

“That’s how these things go,” Mr. Forkle reminded her gently. “For every move, there’s a countermove.”

“But this isn’t a game!” Sophie snapped. “It’s a battle in a longer war.”

“The same principle applies,” Mr. Forkle noted.

“Yeah… well… I’m tired of guessing and reacting,” Sophie informed him. “There has to be a better way.”

“Like what?” Councillor Emery wondered.

Which was a very good question—and Sophie was about to admit that she had no idea, when she realized… she might.

“I think it’s time to take a stand,” she told everyone. “Time to show the Neverseen they’re not in charge, like they clearly think they are—and go to Loamnore on our terms.”

“And what would those terms be?” Mr. Forkle wanted to know.

“Well.” Sophie pictured the Neverseen’s notes in her head. “First… we position ourselves in the Grand Hall instead of the main marketplace, and make the Neverseen come to us. That way, they don’t get to rely on whatever trap they’ve laid—since we all know there has to be one—and instead we make them come to the safest, hardest-to-reach place in the entire city.”