Thank you, Kasie West, Renee Collins, Bree Despain, Jenn Johansson, and Candice Kennington, for letting me crash your writing retreat—it was just the boost I needed to get back into the rhythms of writing.

Thank you, Allison Bennett, for being there for that first very long, very hard phone call, and for all the advice after. And thank you, Nadia and Roland, for continuing to be the best niece and nephew ever. (And I have to give Jeff Bennett a shout-out here too!)

And of course—of course—thank you, Mom and Dad, for helping me get my house reorganized into perfect writing spaces, for bringing me meals and groceries and anything else I needed. I know I say this every year, but maybe this time it’ll actually happen: Here’s hoping the next book will cooperate and I’ll actually get to sleep!

Hi there, Keeper fans! Consider this your friendly reminder: If you snuck back here to spend a little time with our favorite silver-banged Shade before reading Legacy—STOP! TURN BACK! SPOILERS AHEAD! Even the next paragraph is iffy, so I’d recommend fleeing now.

*pauses for one more SPOILER ALERT*

Okay! The scenes you’re about to read take place simultaneously with what’s going on throughout the course of Legacy, to give you some glimpses into Tam’s side of the story. There are several references to moments you’ve already seen through Sophie’s eyes, but now you’ll get to see Tam’s reactions and hopefully get some deeper insights into what our sweet, angsty boy is going through.

Happy reading!

First Day

Don’t talk to anybody.

Don’t listen to anybody.

Don’t make friends.

Don’t let them break you.

* * *

They were the words that Tam had repeated to himself every morning before he headed off with Linh to Exillium.

The rules he forced himself to follow.

The only way to survive.

And they were going to get him through this.

Hopefully he’d learn something useful too.

Tam studied his tiny, stuffy room, smirking at the ridiculous touches someone had added—as if they thought he’d look at the embroidered pillows and the jeweled moon jars and think, Oh, I guess I’m not a prisoner, because they gave me a mirrored tray with…

Is that a sparkly cat statue?

He rolled his eyes and tried to decide if it would be better to gather up all of that junk and shove it under the bed to show them exactly what he thought of it, or to leave it where it was.

What he really wanted to do was shred the pillows, fling the moon jars against the walls, and smash that stupid, shiny cat.

But this was a long game.

Best to start slow. Test the water.

“How did you sleep?” Lady Gisela asked behind him, and Tam kicked himself for flinching—but he hadn’t heard the door open.

“Awesome,” he told her. “Nothing says ‘sweet dreams’ like a concussion. You should try it sometime. I’d be happy to knock you out.”

Lady Gisela sighed. “This will go much easier for you if you cooperate.”

“Pretty sure it will go easier for you,” Tam countered, spinning around to face her.

Her hair was pulled back into this supertight bun that looked like it had to be giving her a headache, and the skin on her face had this weird, stretched look to it. It almost looked like it hurt when she moved her mouth.

Tam really hoped it did.

“I know how to deal with stubborn, snarky boys,” Lady Gisela told him.

“I can tell. Thanks for the cat statue!”

Her eyes narrowed, and Tam realized he should probably ease off a bit. It was only day one. He needed to figure out the boundaries before he started slamming against them.

“I’m not the enemy, Tam,” she told him, and it was really, really hard not to laugh—until she added, “But I can be if you insist on being difficult. You’re here for a reason, and I will make sure you fulfill it.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“You should be. Now come on. Gethen’s waiting.”

Tam’s stomach dropped. “Gethen?”

“Our Telepath.” Lady Gisela’s smile stretched wider. “He’s very much looking forward to spending the day with you.”

“I’m sure he is,” Tam mumbled as he followed her down a dim, narrow hallway, trying to keep his back straight, head held high.

But a whole day with a Telepath…

Tam wouldn’t be able to hide much.

And this prisoner-of-the-Neverseen thing just got a whole lot more complicated.

After the Warning

“So settle a bet for me,” one of Them said, dropping into the chair across from Tam in the hideout’s small study.

Tam gripped his book so hard, the spine crackled.

Her face was hidden by the cowl of her cloak. But he recognized her voice.

It was the one who’d put the bonds on his wrists.

The one who’d told him, It’ll be easier this way, I promise, as she’d turned him into Lady Gisela’s little Shade pet.

The Flasher who called herself “Glimmer.”

Apparently she thought he didn’t care about what she’d done to him, because she pointed to his forehead and asked, “So, the fact that you never wear your hood—is that a protest? Or because you want everyone to see your awesome bangs?”

Tam went back to reading.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” When he still didn’t respond, she sighed—then leaned closer and whispered, “Gethen’s mad at you.”

Tam gripped the book again.

Of course Gethen was mad at him.

He couldn’t hide his whole conversation with Sophie—he’d known that the second he’d let her into his mind.

But hopefully he’d hidden the part that mattered.

And hopefully Sophie believed him.

“Be careful, Tam,” Glimmer told him as she stood. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”

No. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Don’t let them break you.

After Linh

“I seriously don’t know how you can make any sense out of that journal,” Glimmer said, taking the seat across from Tam and plopping a book about light theory down on the study’s table. “Shades are weird.”

She sat at his table a lot, either ignoring him or trying to trick him into talking to her.

So Tam tried to tell himself it was nothing unusual.

Nothing to worry about.

No one knew anything.

He’d shrouded his conversation with Linh in hundreds of layers of shadows. There was no way Gethen could’ve found the memory.

And yet, Glimmer leaned close and said, “I know something’s wrong.”

Tam kept his eyes on Umber’s precise writing.

“I heard you crying last night,” Glimmer added, her voice softening in a way that reminded him of his sister.

And it made him break his rule and talk.

“What do you want?” he asked, keeping his voice low—sharp.

“I just… don’t understand why you have to be so stubborn,” she said to him. “You don’t have to be all alone here. You could have friends.”