“So they sent you?” I ask. “The Gorgons asked you to go undercover in the monster world?”

“Not directly, no,” he says. His eyes shutter. “I received my orders from Hermes, and I am acting on their behalf.”

“What was your mission, exactly?”

“To infiltrate the monster faction. To become a trusted member of their organization, to learn sensitive information about the Nychtian Army I could then relay to my contact.”

“And how does befriending me get you that information?”

“It doesn’t.” His head droops a little. “I was too good at my job. The monster faction asked me to go undercover as well. After Euryale was taken, they sent me up here to keep tabs on you.”

“You knew?” I push away from the door, intent on shoving his face back into the floor. “All this time you knew they had Ursula, and you didn’t tell me?”

My hands are on his shoulder, ready to drag him to the ground, but the pained look in his eyes stops me.

“It’s … complicated. There is so much riding on my success. How could I tell you without blowing my cover?” He shakes his head. “I wanted to tell you, to reassure you or help you or even fight by your side. I believe in your destiny,” he says, “more than anything else. As much pressure as you feel to live up to your legacy, I feel just as much to make sure you can. I couldn’t risk losing what advantage I’d gained.”

I don’t want to believe him, but I can’t ignore the sincerity in his voice. “What’s changed?” He shakes his head. “Why are you telling me now?” I ask. “Aren’t you still afraid?”

“It’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“They discovered my true allegiance,” he says. “My cover is blown. If you had burst into the Den a few seconds later than you did, I’d be dead.”

I run through the scene in my mind. It all happened so quickly. I slow it down and try to play through the moments.

I see Nick, sitting on the chair facing the desk, drinking iced tea. The boss leaning back in his chair. He’s holding something in his lap. I didn’t pay attention at the time—I was a little too busy trying to figure a way out of the situation—but now I see it clearly.

He had his flipper curled around a nasty-looking dagger.

He could have been about to slice Nick’s throat. Or he could just as easily have been showing off his favorite blade.

“How can I believe you?” I ask. “You’ve been lying to me from the start. How can I trust you?”

Again.

That bothers me more than anything else. I let my guard down, let him in, let him closer to me and my sisters. How can I trust my own judgment again?

And, maybe the most important question, why do I want to?

“I’ll earn it back, Gretchen,” he says. “I’ll earn your trust back.”

“How?”

“In whatever way I can.”

I study his handsome face. His short, wavy blond hair. The steady set of his jaw. The unwavering look in his midnight-blue eyes.

I want to believe him.

But I’ve been burned before. And not just by Nick. I always wanted to believe Phil when he swore he’d never drink again. Every time. Year after year. Twelve of them. Twelve long years of taking his anger out on me and Barb. Twelve years of convincing myself it would get better. It never did.

How can I trust this boy who has, admittedly, lied to me from start to finish? Even if he has a good reason for the deception, it’s still a betrayal. It was still lies.

“I—”

“I get it,” he says, stopping me before I voice my doubts. “I’ll work for it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I nod. I’m still angry and confused, but I appreciate that he’s giving me time.

“And the first thing I can do,” he says, “is help you get the Gorgons back.”

CHAPTER 28

GRACE

Hi girls, I—What happened?”

When I return to Greer’s basement, Nick is conscious but still tied to the chair, and Gretchen and Greer are facing off. They both have their arms crossed over their chests and are standing about ten feet apart with matching angry looks on their identical faces.

“I have been planning this for months,” Greer says.

“Who cares?” Gretchen retorts. “It’s a stupid tea.”

“It is not stupid. It’s a tradition.”

“And this is your destiny.”

“Destiny has waited this long,” Greer sneers. “It can wait one more day.”

Gretchen growls and lunges for her. I dash forward, putting myself between my sisters. Putting myself in harm’s way, if the stormy look on Gretchen’s face is any clue, but better I get a little hurt than Greer ends up strangled on the floor.

I’ve spent the last four hours straight staring at Greer’s laptop—getting nowhere on a current address for our biological mother—so my vision is swimming a little. And my patience is a little thin.

“What’s going on?” I shout.

Gretchen looks at me like she’s just noticing that I’m here.

“What’s going on?” she echoes. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. The Ice Queen is freezing full force.”

I roll my eyes—mentally, so I don’t set Gretchen off on me. She and Greer have had personality conflicts from day one, so this isn’t really surprising.