“Welcome,” Jax calls as he bounces down the steps.

“Kincaid is expecting us,” Dante says.

“I’ll take care of them,” Jax says, “and I have a message for you once you’re done, uh…” He stares at my mother in Dante’s arms, undoubtedly wondering why we’ve brought a Remnant onto the estate.

“I’ll find you later,” Dante says, carrying my mother away.

Jax is so skinny he looks years younger than Jost or Erik. But his eyes are surrounded by wrinkles, and they light up when he grins widely as he sticks his hand out to shake each of ours, repeating our names as we introduce ourselves—the greeting so easy and natural that I can’t help but relax a little for the first time since yesterday’s crazy events.

“I had them put some drinks in the assembly room for you,” Jax tells us. “Kincaid is in a business meeting, but he’ll join you at lunch.”

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the smokestacks.

“Power plant. It hosts the grids for the estate and the Icebox,” Jax says.

“That’s where you store the solar energy you collect?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We utilize a hybrid photovoltaic system with a coal-based generator that—”

“So basically it’s where the power comes from?” Erik stops him.

“Yeah,” Jax says with a laugh. We follow him into the main building, trailing behind as he chatters about the locations of toilets and how to call a servant. But I’m mesmerized by the statues that lurk in every corner and the detailed portraits that hang from the carved wooden panels. Tapestry after tapestry with precise, intricate embroidery chills my blood. There are faces everywhere, frozen in time, watching me as I enter the house. Between the patterns and colors and ornamentation, my head begins to hurt. The assembly room contains a variety of seating choices, arranged in clusters. Against the far wall, a tall hearth, at least twice my height, lords over the room. My feet sink into the plush, woven rug as I melt into a sofa. The sofa is very elegant and very small, and I perch on it uncomfortably. Jax excuses himself, leaving the three of us alone in the grand room.

“Drink?” Erik asks, lifting a crystal decanter toward us.

“No, thank you,” Jost says, and his formality irks me. Will we ever move past this awkwardness between the two of them?

“Not at the moment,” I tell Erik.

“If it’s poisoned, at least you’ll be rid of me.” Erik shrugs, nonplussed by our refusal, pouring a bit of the amber liquid into a tumbler. He shifts back, draping his arm around the sofa and throwing a leg across the seat. He looks at ease in this setting, not at all put off by the oppressive grandeur of our surroundings.

“So should we take a look around?” Erik asks a few minutes later, depositing his empty glass on the table.

I scoot a coaster under it, afraid to mar the pristine wood. Something tells me this Kincaid fellow would notice.

“This place has to be crawling with security,” Jost points out. “Maybe we should wait a day or two before we label ourselves troublemakers.”

With their cards on the table, the brothers glare at each other and then inevitably turn to me—tie-breaker extraordinaire.

“Jost is right,” I agree, although I hate to take sides. “And they’re probably listening to us now. I bet we wouldn’t get far.”

“Well that only leaves the elephant in the room then,” Erik says. “Your mom.”

Suddenly I want to jump up and go exploring. Anything to avoid this conversation, but I can’t ignore it forever. “So my mom’s a Remnant.”

It’s liberating to say it out loud, as though I’ve taken the first step in accepting the fact.

“Yes, but what is a Remnant exactly?” Jost asks. “How did the Guild do this?”

“I interacted with them. They’re as smart as we are, maybe even more cunning, like they’ve been tuned into some primal frequency,” Erik says.

“But how?” Jost’s question feels more desperate this time, and I think of his wife.

“We know the Guild can remap and alter. They did it to Enora,” I remind him, taking his hand.

“They seem to have perfected their technique,” Jost mutters.

I frown. He’s right. Enora’s alteration backfired horribly, resulting in her suicide, but the Remnants seem fully functional. “Listen, there’s something I haven’t told you,” I whisper. I relay the story of the clear cubes tucked away in storage at the Coventry.

“What do you think they are?” Jost asks.

“Souls,” I say without hesitation. “Dante told us they remove the Remnants’ souls, and the strands I found were too thin to be full people. I knew that then, but Loricel told me that people who die before they’re ripped lose part of their strand. I think it’s the key to understanding this. Spinsters rip people so the Guild can reuse them.”

“So they separate the soul from the body?” Jost muses. “But why? It seems like a lot of work for no good reason.”

“Take Enora. They didn’t remove her soul, so it didn’t work.”

“But why wouldn’t they remove Enora’s soul if it was going to cause a problem?”

“I can’t say exactly, but if I had to guess I think it comes back to something Loricel told me. Cormac was scared to do it to me. That’s why they tested it on Enora, and when it backfired, they couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t have a similar reaction,” I tell them.