"It's not dread," she argued. "It's just a lot of pressure. I don't want to let anyone down."

"You could never let me down." Fitz said something else too, but it was drowned out by the plethora of gagging sounds coming from Dex and Keefe.

"Don't Cognates have to share all their secrets with each other?" Biana asked.

Mr. Forkle nodded. "It's how they reach the necessary level of trust."

Keefe smirked. "Okay, now I feel the dread."

"A perfectly normal reaction," Granite told him. "Sophie has been alone with her secrets for a very long time. Sharing them so openly is a whole new concept-one, I might add, that I myself have never been comfortable with."

"Yeah," Sophie agreed. "Plus . . . this could be super dangerous-"

"Nope! We're not doing the 'I'm trying to protect you' speech again," Fitz interrupted. "You're not allowed to worry about me anymore-and I don't want to have to worry about you. That's why I want to do this. A Cognate is a Telepath's ultimate backup. I promise, I won't be mad if it doesn't work out. But isn't it worth trying?"

He looked so adorably excited, Sophie could feel her cheeks blushing.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Wonderful! So come over here, Mr. Vacker," Mr. Forkle ordered. "I want your minds to be connected as I return Miss Foster's memory."

Sophie's mouth went desert dry as Fitz and Mr. Forkle reached for her temples.

"Try to let your mind relax, Miss Foster," Mr. Forkle told her. "And let me know once you clear the point of trust, Mr. Vacker."

The Black Swan had designed Sophie's mind with a hidden entry point, where her subconscious could pull someone past her mental blocking. Apparently they had to transmit some sort of password to convince her mind she could trust them.

She had no idea what word Fitz used, but he grinned and said, "I'm in!"

"Very good," Mr. Forkle told him. "Her mind is trusting you much faster."

"Of course it is," Dex grumbled.

"I'm going to return the memory," Mr. Forkle said. "And it can be a bit disorienting, so perhaps you should hold someone's hand, Miss Foster."

Dex and Keefe both offered, but Biana wrapped an arm around Sophie's waist and had Sophie lean against her.

"On three," Mr. Forkle said.

Sophie braced for pain, but when he got to "three" all she felt was a whisper of cold.

"Is that it?" she asked. "I don't see the memory."

"It takes a moment to register on your consciousness. You should feel it . . . now."

Sophie swayed as the memory hit, fighting to get her bearings. It felt like her mind had been dropped into the middle of a movie running on fast forward.

That's me, she realized as the scene slowed to a normal pace and she watched her five-year-old self reading on the steps in front of her small square house.

What book is that? Fitz transmitted.

Looks like an encyclopedia. I read the whole thing from A to Z by the time I was six.

She wasn't supposed to be reading that day. Her mom had ordered her to go outside and play with Bethany Lopez, the first-grader who lived across the street. But Bethany had called her Dorktionary and told her to go spell something. Sophie had just beaten a fifth grader in her school's spelling bee. She didn't understand why everyone was making such big deal about it. Why did it matter that she was only in kindergarten? Why was her principal talking to her parents about having her skip grades?

That was the real reason her parents had sent her outside. They'd caught her listening to their whispered conversation. She'd still heard three words, though: "She's not normal."

Sophie could feel her eyes burn as her emotions synced with the memory. Her five-year-old self hadn't understood why it was so hard to fit in like her parents wanted. She'd been thinking about running away when she'd felt the prickly sense of someone watching her.

She could feel Fitz lean closer as they relived the moment she'd looked up and spotted the strange boy in the blue bramble jersey. He was peeking at her from behind her yard's sycamore tree-or she assumed he was. His head was turned her way, but his face was a blur.

Sophie fought to focus the memory, but the boy remained fuzzy, even as he raised a crystal up to the sunlight and disappeared. Now Sophie knew he'd light leaped-but at the time she'd been terrified she'd seen a ghost. She'd grabbed her book and raced for the safety of her house. But her toe caught on the concrete stairs, and the last thing she remembered was the ground racing toward her and a sharp pain in her head.

From there the memory skipped to the part Sophie already knew: waking up in the hospital, hearing thoughts for the first time and crying because she couldn't understand what was happening.

Whoa, Fitz transmitted. The voices feel like knives.

I know, Sophie thought, fighting to shut down the memory. Her mind seemed determined to relive every second.

I knew it had to be scary, manifesting so young, Fitz said, but I never realized it was like that.

Fitz's hands were shaking now, sharing five-year-old Sophie's terror as she'd screamed and thrashed, begging someone to make the voices stop. The doctors hovered around her, sticking her with needles, checking equipment.

How long was it like this before you figured it out? Fitz asked.

The doctors gave her another sedative, Mr. Forkle told them, and while she was out I was able to plant the truth in her mind so she'd understand I'd tried to do that before, but hadn't been able to reach her while the ability was still manifesting.

That makes sense, Sophie thought. I remember somehow knowing that I was hearing thoughts. Also that I couldn't ever tell anyone. I'd never felt so alone.

I'm sorry, Mr. Forkle said.

"Uh, are you guys okay?" Keefe asked. "Foster's emotions are spiking all over the place, and Fitz feels . . . weird."

"I'm fine," Sophie promised, shaking her head to clear it. She turned to Mr. Forkle. "But I still can't see the boy's face, or how you triggered my telepathy."

"You were unconscious for the telepathy triggering. And the boy's face is blurry because he was wearing an addler. It's a gadget that makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on the wearer's face. They were very popular during the Human Assistance Program, since humans forget anyone they cannot recognize."

"Why would the boy have one?" Sophie asked. "And who was he? Why was he there?"

"Those are the questions I've been trying to answer for the last eight years. Obviously he's with the Neverseen, but I have no idea how he found you, or why he didn't seem to realize what you truly were. I'm glad he didn't, because I wasn't watching you as closely back then. I hadn't even known you were outside until I heard the neighbor girl shouting that you'd fallen. I ran out to check and found you bleeding and unconscious. When I probed your recent memories, I realized you'd seen an elf and I was tempted to grab you and flee. But there were too many people watching. Plus, the boy had disappeared, and I hoped that meant he'd crossed you off whatever list he was working from. Still, I decided to move up your timeline just in case. I called 9-1-1 and triggered your telepathy, knowing the head injury would be an excuse to help your mind accept the new ability. I also altered your memory to be sure you'd forget the boy. And then I never let you out of my sight again."

"If you erased the memory that quickly," Keefe asked, "how did Foster write about the boy in her journal?"

"I merely hid the memory at first. I was trying to avoid interfering any more than I had to. But the memory kept resurfacing. Sophie's mind had latched on to the moment to try to understand it. When I caught her writing in her journal, I knew I had to be more drastic. That night I washed the moment completely and tore the page out of her journal."

"So you did sneak into my room while I slept?" Sophie asked, feeling especially squirmy when he nodded.

"My job was far from easy, Miss Foster. I had to ready your abilities, keep you safe, and still have you believe you were a regular human girl."

"You failed pretty epically at the last one," Sophie mumbled. "If you'd wanted me to feel normal, maybe you shouldn't have made me read minds-or at least taught me how to block the thoughts I didn't want to hear."

"Believe me, I tried. Certain skills need conscious training, and I couldn't reveal the truth to you yet. So every night I searched your memories and helped your mind set aside anything too upsetting. I also tried to help with your headaches-don't you remember how I was always asking about them? I even gave your mother remedies to try, but I doubt she gave them to you. She wasn't a fan of medicine. She made it clear at her first fertility appointment that she was only there as a last resort. It was one of the reasons I selected her. So many human remedies do more harm than good, and I had to ensure you wouldn't be subjected to them constantly. The few times you went to the doctor, I had to monitor what they gave you and then find ways to undo the damage. I also had to change your records to ensure you looked human on paper-and your hospital stays were even worse. So many files to erase and treatments to adjust. You have no idea what a nightmare it was."

"I might, if you gave me back my other missing memory," Sophie reminded him.

"Nice try."

"But it's not like this memory even taught me anything," Sophie argued. "I still don't know who the boy is."

"Perhaps that will convince you we are not withholding crucial secrets," Granite said.

Or that they picked that memory to return because they knew it was a bust . . .

"And you really have no theories for who the boy could be?" Sophie pressed.

Mr. Forkle heaved a heavy sigh. "In the interests of avoiding further questioning, I will tell you that we've spent many years investigating the children at Foxfire. And we've ruled out every single boy."

"Could you have missed someone?" Biana asked.

"Our methods were very thorough. I'm convinced he was not there-and if I'm right, then there's only one other place he could have been."

Fitz figured it out before Sophie did. "Exillium."

"And before you start plotting ways to find the campus," Mr. Forkle told her, "keep in mind that you saw the boy eight years ago. He has long since aged out of their curriculum."

"So where do the Exillium kids go when they graduate?" Fitz asked.

"There is no single place," Granite said. "Some earn jobs in the Lost Cities. Others remain banished. Either way, the boy is just as untraceable as the rest of the Neverseen."

"There has to be a way to find him," Sophie said. "Maybe the teachers saw something suspicious, or the Exillium administration kept records, or-"

"I can assure you, Miss Foster, you will find no record saying 'Boy X is a member of the Neverseen,'" Mr. Forkle interrupted. "And the Coaches would be of no help. Exillium is designed for anonymity. Those who attend do not use their names. They also wear masks."

"Sounds like the perfect place for the Neverseen to hide," Sophie pointed out. "They could have members there right now."

"I doubt it," Blur said.

"Why not?" Dex asked.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way," Blur said, "but . . . Exillium is for kids."

"What he means," Mr. Forkle jumped in as they all groaned, "is that the Neverseen haven't demonstrated a pattern of relying on children."

"They did once," Fitz argued. "Shouldn't we at least look into it?"

"It's not worth the risk," Mr. Forkle insisted. "Finding Exillium would require breaking into an incredibly secure database."

"I can do that, easy," Dex said.

"Don't get overconfident, Mr. Dizznee," Mr. Forkle told him. "And do not attempt it. Whatever modicum of information could be gleaned by searching Exillium's records does not match the havoc that would occur if you were caught."

"Plus, we have far more important assignments for all of you to work on," Granite added. He glanced at the rest of the Collective, waiting for them to nod before saying, "It's time to rescue Prentice."

ELEVEN.

PRENTICE," SOPHIE WHISPERED, not sure what to feel.

Relief?

Hope?

Fear?

Yeah . . . it was mostly fear.

And then of course there was the shame-mostly because of all the fear.

Prentice had allowed his mind to be broken in order to protect her. And healing him was the only way to be sure Alden's sanity would never shatter again.

But . . . Prentice had been trapped in his madness for thirteen years, and his whole life had fallen apart during that time. His wife had died-faded away during some sort of light-leaping accident. His orphaned son, Wylie, had been adopted. And even though Sir Tiergan-Sophie's telepathy Mentor-had surely been a good father, Wylie was now all grown up, a Prodigy in Foxfire's elite levels, having spent most of his life never knowing his dad.

That was a lot of heartbreak for someone to wake up to. What if Prentice shattered all over again once he faced those cold realities?

"Whatever concerns are causing that crease between your brows," Mr. Forkle told her, "we do share them. But we cannot stall Prentice's rescue any longer. He is too important."

"And we're not saying that because we miss our friend," Granite added, clearing his throat several times. "We've also long suspected that Prentice's mind is hiding something crucial. It would explain why he called 'swan song' before he was captured."

"Swan song" was a code the Black Swan used if they feared their life was in danger.

"Prentice used the code the day before his capture," Mr. Forkle said. "I've always wondered how he knew they were coming for him."

"As have I," Granite agreed. "I'd been monitoring Alden's investigations most carefully, and he'd had no suspicion toward Prentice whatsoever. Then Prentice called swan song and suddenly he was arrested."

Della looked away, twisting and retwisting her graceful fingers.

Granite turned to Sophie, his stony eyes almost pleading. "No one is more aware of the risks that come with healing Prentice than we are. But don't you think it's worth it, to find out what happened, and give him a chance at happiness?"

Sophie pictured Prentice the way she'd last seen him, locked in a lonely cell, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself, drooling. . . .

"Okay," she whispered, not sure if her heart wanted to race or explode. "But isn't he still in Exile?"