"The Lake of Blood," Sophie repeated, making sure she'd properly translated the words.

"That is what we call it," Mitya agreed. "The Starkrial Valley was once lush and hearty. But the ogres dammed the river and let everything wither on the southern end. The lake that remains is red and acidic. Many things that touch its surface do not survive."

"And the elves allowed that?" Sophie asked.

"The elves allow many things." An edge had crept into Lur's tone, turning the words to a windstorm.

"The Lake of Blood lies in the Neutral Territories," Mitya explained. "And many have long suspected the ogres ruined the valley to allow them to hide a stockade in the mountains."

"Uh, are you guys going to start using words us non-Polyglots can understand?" Keefe interrupted. "Because I think I speak for everyone when I say we want to know what's going on!"

"I will soon," Sophie promised. "I still need the rest of the story." She switched back to gnomish. "What was his mom doing?"

"Nothing," Lur said. "And that is the problem."

"She is in serious danger," Mitya added. "It's even possible she . . ."

"What?" Sophie asked when neither of them finished.

Lur heaved a sigh. "His mother was badly injured when we saw her."

"Injured how? From the battle?" The last time Sophie had seen Lady Gisela, she'd hurled herself off a cliff on Mount Everest, relying on a mysterious ogre skill called "phase shifting" to save her.

Mitya shook her head. "Her marks were the work of an ogre. They have a tool that leaves a very recognizable wound."

"Why would they . . . ," Sophie started, then answered her own question. "They tortured her?"

"Quite brutally." Lur shuddered.

Sophie sucked in air, trying to think through the explosion of emotions. "But the Neverseen are partners with the ogres."

"Yes, but the ogres do not tolerate failure," Lur explained. "Especially when it comes to the capture of prisoners. In the ogre code of warfare that is the worst possible offense."

And Lady Gisela allowed Gethen to be taken.

"So, you think the ogres tortured her and brought her to that stockade you mentioned?"

"It's possible," Lur said. "Or . . ."

Mitya took Sophie's hands. Her fingers were calloused, but still soft as they tightened around her own. "There are other rumors about the Lake of Blood-stories of a pyre, where the ogres burn the bodies of those they kill. It is possible that it's only a legend. But . . . the Neverseen dragged Lady Gisela into a cave. She was bleeding and wounded and screaming for mercy. After they were gone, all I found was blood."

"The cave could've been a secret entrance to the prison, though, right?" Sophie asked.

"Anything is possible," Lur agreed. "But that would not explain the smoke we saw drifting from the mountains."

Sophie swayed and Keefe grabbed her, holding her steady as he whispered, "Please tell me what they're saying. You said you wouldn't hide things from me."

"I won't," Sophie told him, hoping she could keep her promise. She pulled slowly away from him, asking Lur and Mitya in gnomish, "Is that all you saw?"

"Yes," Lur said. "But we will continue investigating. We stopped only because we felt the Collective should know that the hierarchy of the Neverseen has shifted. Lady Gisela holds no authority. She is either a prisoner or a casualty."

"Can you understand what they're saying, Mom?" Biana asked.

"I'm only catching bits and pieces." But the hitch in Della's voice made it clear she'd understood enough.

"Please, Foster," Keefe begged. "I've heard them say my mom's name. I'm going crazy here."

"I need to verify first," she told him. "There could be a misunderstanding." It was a frayed strand of hope, but she was going to cling to it with everything she had.

"Can I have permission to search your memories?" she asked Mitya. "I need to see exactly what you saw."

"Reading our minds is not like reading that of your own kind," Mitya said. "It will be exhausting, and you already look weary."

"I can handle it," Sophie said, reaching for Mitya's temples.

She rallied her full mental strength, slipped into Mitya's mind and . . .

. . . tangled in a web of memories.

No-not a web.

These were branches.

A mental forest, wild and unruly.

Each memory coiled like vines, wrapping so tightly there was no way to shove through. Even a brain push-a specialized telepathy trick-couldn't break past the gnarled chaos. And the trees seemed to grow and stretch until Sophie couldn't see how to escape the endless woods.

"You need help," Fitz said, sounding very far away. "I'm coming in."

Sophie was too lost to warn him.

Wow, this is insane, Fitz transmitted as his consciousness tangled near hers.

We can't stay here, Sophie said. It's pulling us farther and farther away. But I'm not strong enough to break out.

Okay, so what if we pool our energy? Fitz asked.

Worth a try.

She imagined her consciousness slithering across the vines like a snake. Fitz did the same, and when they finally reached each other . . .

Whoa, is this what it's like to be Cognates? she asked as a surge of warm energy worked like the sun, drawing the trees toward their light and leaving spaces for Sophie and Fitz to move.

No idea, Fitz admitted. But it's awesome.

It definitely was. The memory forest had divided into dozens of paths, and Sophie chose the darkest. Nightmares clawed with thorny stems, but with Fitz's help they pushed to the path's end. There they found a cold, stark tree, empty and quiet. But Sophie could see the truth hidden in the branches at the top.

Fitz's consciousness gave Sophie a boost and they climbed together, watching in wary silence as the memory unfolded. Two black-cloaked figures dragged a decloaked Lady Gisela past a red lake with dead carcasses scattered along the shore. Sophie could tell Keefe's mom had been wounded, but she couldn't see how bad the injuries were until Mitya snuck ahead of them and slipped into the bushes. The Neverseen passed by, mere feet from where Mitya hid, and Sophie felt her stomach heave when she saw the deep, curved puncture wounds on Lady Gisela's face. She had dozens of them, carved into her cheeks, her chin, her neck.

"Please," Lady Gisela begged as the figures dragged her toward the mountains.

Her captors ignored her cries, kicking her when she stumbled.

Her pleas grew more urgent as they headed for a rift, but the Neverseen did not slow. Mitya tried to follow, but by the time she found a way into the cave, the Neverseen had vanished, leaving nothing but red.

As she turned to head back, Mitya heard Lady Gisela scream, "Don't do this!" Then everything fell silent, and a raspy voice said, "It's done."

A million icicles stabbed Sophie's heart as she recognized the voice.

Brant.

Clearly he'd recovered from his wounds.

The memory shifted forward, to when Mitya rejoined Lur by the poisonous lake. He was studying the trail of red, which was darker than the deadly water. They both turned as the scent of smoke laced through the air. A single black plume rose into the sky, before the mountain winds whisked it away.

"That is all we know," Mitya said as Sophie removed her shaking hands from Mitya's temples.

"You'll share this with the Collective?" Lur asked.

"We will," Fitz answered when Sophie couldn't.

Mitya stepped closer, wiping the tears off Sophie's face. "I am sorry to burden you with this responsibility, Miss Foster. No one should face such horrors. Especially you."

"I'm not worried about me," Sophie told her, not feeling brave enough to look at Keefe.

"We must leave you now," Mitya said, dipping a slow bow. "But we promise to report anything new we discover."

"Be careful, my friends," Calla said, hugging them both. "Things are not as they seem."

"Indeed they are not," Lur told her, kissing Calla's cheeks.

They both took one last look at Sophie, their eyes focused on her moonlark pin. Then they disappeared into the trees.

"Okay," Keefe said, taking Sophie's hands again. "You have to tell me what my mom's done."

Do you want me to talk to him? Fitz transmitted.

Sophie shook her head. Keefe was asking her.

I'll be right inside if you need me, Fitz promised before he led the others away.

"Come on," Sophie whispered, pulling Keefe toward a tree that had fallen by the river. The bark felt rough and damp, but she knew this was the kind of conversation that needed to happen sitting down.

"If she killed someone, just tell me," Keefe whispered.

Sophie tangled their fingers together, squeezing so tight their knuckles faded to white. "It's not about what she's done, Keefe. It's about what might've happened to her."

Once she started, the story poured out, in every horrifying detail.

"But they haven't found a body," she finished. "So we don't know anything for sure."

Keefe stared blankly at the river.

"What are you thinking?" Sophie asked, when the silence turned suffocating.

"Strange question, coming from a Telepath."

"You know I would never invade your privacy like that."

Keefe sighed. "I'm thinking . . . she deserves to be dead."

His voice meant the words. But his eyes didn't.

"It's okay to be sad, Keefe."

"No it's not-not after what she's done."

"She's still your mom, no matter how angry you are."

"I'm more than angry, Sophie. I'm . . . I don't know what the word is. But I don't care what happens to her."

"Then why are you crying?" She reached up to wipe his cheek and showed him the tear on her finger.

"I . . ." The rest of his words twisted into a sob.

Sophie held him tightly, letting him soak the shoulder of her tunic with tears. She wondered if Fitz had felt this helpless when she'd done the same thing to him. He'd seemed so strong and steady that day, when he'd taken her from her human family. She wished she could be the same for Keefe.

"We don't know anything for sure yet," she repeated.

"It doesn't matter. I don't even know what I'm rooting for."

"You don't have to root for anything. But as much as you hate her, part of you still loves her. So whatever happens, you're going to have to grieve."

"Not if I can help it." Keefe pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy, but they seemed dry now as he turned back to the river.

"Want me to leave you alone?" Sophie asked.

Keefe nodded. "Actually, no. It's not good for me to be alone right now. I'll do something stupid. I need . . . I don't know what I need. Just don't go."

Sophie stayed.

Keefe leaned his head against her shoulder and Sophie counted his breaths, considering what a strange thing grief turned out to be.

Grady and Edaline closed themselves off.

Fitz pushed everyone away.

She couldn't figure out how Keefe was handling it all yet. But she was glad he wanted her to stay.