"I only said otherwise to frighten him," Mr. Forkle added. "It does raise an interesting question, though, doesn't it? How far are we willing to go in this fight? For instance, would you have been willing to hand your cache over to the dwarves or goblins if the Council had called your bluff?"

"I don't know," Sophie said-but that was a lie.

You would've done it, Mr. Forkle transmitted.

Is that bad?

Quite the opposite. It's a sign that you're close to being ready.

Sophie knew better than to ask, Ready for what?

"Where are the gnomes under quarantine?" she asked instead.

She'd hoped to catch a glimpse of the treatment area, but all she could see was the solid stone and metal of the castle's walls and gates.

"There's a small grove behind the inner tower," Mr. Forkle said. "I hear they're being contained there."

"You haven't seen them?" Sophie asked.

"Only physicians are allowed to enter, and they haven't been allowed to share any details."

The castle bell ended their conversation, followed by the echo of heavy footsteps. When the gates creaked open, ten goblins stood arm in arm to block them from entering.

Sophie searched for Sandor among them, knowing it was a vain hope. She found only strangers, and none who looked friendly enough to ask if they'd heard any news about her recovering bodyguard.

Behind them, the Four Seasons Tree stood proudly on a small patch of grass. As Sophie studied its colorful branches, Bronte and Emery leaped into the courtyard.

"Where's Prentice?" Mr. Forkle demanded.

"On his way," Councillor Emery promised. "He didn't respond to the sedatives Terik gave him for transport, so we sent Alina to calm him."

"Alina is a Beguiler," Granite explained to Sophie. "Her voice can be irresistibly soothing."

"Then why is she always so awful?" Sophie had to ask.

Bronte's lips twitched with a smile, and even Emery sounded mildly amused as he told her, "Much like Telepaths, Beguilers have restrictions for when they can use their power."

"Without those restrictions, Alina would surely be a Vacker," Granite added.

Sophie felt her jaw drop. "She's that powerful?"

"It's why we elected her to our ranks," Emery agreed. "In these troubling times we may very well need the power of persuasion."

His tone wasn't threatening-but the words still felt that way.

"I take it this is our prisoner?" Bronte asked. "I see he had no issue with the drugs."

"You will find him much the same when the sedatives wear off," Mr. Forkle told him. "He's using some sort of telepathy trick to keep his consciousness hidden."

"I've never heard of such a skill," Emery said.

"Neither had we," Granite agreed. "But we're growing used to finding ourselves in unfamiliar territory." He motioned to the goblins standing at the ready. "You honestly thought this was necessary?"

"You are fugitives," Emery said. "And this area is under quarantine."

"It is indeed," Mr. Forkle agreed. "Any progress on the cure?"

"All work is progress," Emery said.

"Which is political-speak for 'no'?" Granite pressed.

Bronte cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, it means we have little news to report."

Sophie wished she could ask about the drakostomes, but it would be too risky. The Council had gone to great lengths to keep their existence hidden, and she couldn't risk hindering the exchange for Prentice.

"Are you monitoring the Neutral Territories?" she asked.

"We're watching everywhere the plague has spread," Emery agreed.

"And have you found any trees with force fields around them?" she asked.

Bronte frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Neverseen have a Psionipath working with them," Mr. Forkle explained. "We've been trying to ascertain his purpose."

"Then why have we heard nothing of this?" Emery snapped.

"Well, I suppose that's the problem with treating us as fugitives," Mr. Forkle said. "It makes it rather hard to work together."

Emery and Bronte shared a look, but Emery shook his head.

"What about the Vacker boy?" Emery asked. "How is he faring?"

"He's expected to make a full recovery," Mr. Forkle said.

Both Councillors looked noticeably relieved.

"What about Oralie?" Sophie asked. "What did you decide for her punishment?"

"She should have been removed from the Council," Emery said. "But our world does not need the uncertainty of another election, so she has been put under surveillance and relegated to menial assignments until she earns back our trust."

"At the moment, she's enduring our most odious task," Bronte said. "Monitoring Lord Cassius's investigation."

"What is Keefe's father investigating?" Sophie asked.

"His own memories. He's working with Telepaths, hoping to uncover any clues his wife might've given. Oralie's there to read his emotions and ensure he's honest about what he finds."

"Has he found anything?" Blur asked.

"Nothing of note. Lady Gisela was very careful."

Before anyone could respond, a light flashed next to Bronte, and Councillor Alina appeared in all her jeweled finery.

"Where's Terik?" Bronte asked her.

"He should be here right . . . now." Alina waived her arms like a spokesmodel and Councillor Terik appeared beside her. Something dark was slung over his shoulder, and Sophie realized it was Prentice.

"The sedatives kicked in once Alina calmed him down," Terik explained through huffing breaths. "I'd given him some pretty strong stuff, so he'll probably be out for hours."

Granite moved forward to help, but the goblins raised their swords.

"First, our prisoner," Emery told him.

"You think we're going to betray you?" Mr. Forkle snapped.

Councillor Alina adjusted her peridot circlet. "I wouldn't put it past you."

"Fine." Mr. Forkle turned to their dwarves. "Make the exchange."

The dwarves passed Gethen's cot to two of the goblins, and Terik handed Prentice to Granite.

"What did you give him?" Granite asked, cradling Prentice like a baby. Prentice's head lolled to the side, his body limp and pale.

"You can blame his condition on Alden Vacker," Alina told him. "And yourselves, for violating our laws."

Sophie was tempted to grab a handful of dirt and throw it in Alina's face, but somehow she found the willpower to refrain.

"He should be fine once the drugs wear off," Terik promised, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Well . . . as fine as he ever is."

Granite held Prentice tighter, whispering, "It's going to be okay."

Sophie wanted to believe him, but she could see the clammy sheen on Prentice's skin.

"Thus ends our truce," Councillor Alina said, raising a hand to order the remaining goblins back into position.

"Your real enemy is tied to that cot," Mr. Forkle warned the Councillors.

"Said the elf hiding behind a disguise," Alina argued.

Sophie didn't understand why the Council refused to see that the Black Swan wasn't evil. But then she remembered the doubt she'd felt because of Gethen's fingernails.

It was far too easy to misunderstand a single action.

Prentice was living proof of the pain such mistakes could cause. And now she had a chance to set things right.

They brought Prentice to a stone cottage, surrounded by crumbling paths and mossy walls. It sat nestled in a verdant valley, blanketed with grassy fields and rolling hills, under a gray sky swirling with mist.

"Are we in England?" Sophie asked, feeling like she'd fallen into a period movie. The only thing missing were horse-drawn carriages.

"It's possible," Mr. Forkle said, licking one of the stones to open the door to the house. "We rarely consider human land claims when we choose our hideouts."

He led everyone inside, and the house's interior reminded Sophie of the Healing Center at Foxfire. The floor was sleek silver, and along one wall was a neatly blanketed cot, as well as a table covered in bottles of Youth and vials of medicine. Two of the other walls were floor-to-ceiling apothecary shelves-hundreds of tiny square drawers Sophie was sure were filled with all manner of elixirs. The last wall had a window overlooking the lush valley, along with a counter, a sink, and a full set of alchemy equipment.

"How long have you had this place?" she asked.

"Since Prentice's memory break," Mr. Forkle said. "We knew we had years to wait for your abilities to develop-but we wanted to be ready just in case."

"I'll take the first shift," Blur said, heading down a flight of stairs in the corner. Another flight went up to some sort of loft.

"Private quarters," Mr. Forkle explained. "So that those staying here to care for Prentice have somewhere to rest."

Granite set Prentice on the bed as Squall grabbed a crystal basin from the counter and filled it with water. They toweled off Prentice's face and hands and tied back his dreadlocked hair. Blur returned with a clean robe, and Sophie turned away as they changed him. She helped Wraith and Mr. Forkle sort through the drawers, pulling out various ointments and unguents. By the time everyone was finished, Prentice's skin looked clean and smooth-all cuts and scratches healed.

If he hadn't been so unnaturally still, he might've looked normal.

"It's strange for the sedatives to take such a strong effect, isn't it?" Granite asked.

"Indeed it is," Mr. Forkle said. "And to last this long."

Sophie thought back to the dark days after Alden's mind had broken, when Elwin was attempting to treat him. The sedatives had worn off so fast, Elwin couldn't keep up with them.

"Do you think there's something wrong?" she whispered.

"I don't know what to think," Mr. Forkle admitted. "Not until I have more information."

She realized that everyone was looking at her. "You want me to heal him right now?"

"Not heal," Granite said.

"Unless you feel like you're capable," Mr. Forkle jumped in. "But what we truly need is a better sense of his mental state. None of us can enter a broken mind except you."

Sophie's mouth went dry, but she took a deep breath and stepped closer, trying not to think about the last time she'd been in Prentice's mind. She focused on Alden-and the joy she'd felt bringing him back-as she reached for Prentice's temples and pushed her consciousness into his.

His mind was dark-but not like any darkness she'd experienced before. She was used to blackness that had a shape. A space. An end.

This was absolute nothingness.

No light. No sound.

Not a whisper. A breath. A flutter.

She tried to call Prentice's name, but the transmissions vanished. It felt like trying to light a match in a room with no oxygen.

Heaviness settled over her, burying her in the emptiness, until all she had left was a single, solitary thought-a truth so inescapable, it turned solid in her mind, creating a lifeline to climb up and out of the black.

Sophie stumbled back from Prentice, the world crashing around her in a tornado of senses. But even the chaos of reality couldn't change the heartbreaking truth she'd discovered.

She gave herself several long breaths before she turned to face the Collective.