The sweet, familiar voice passes through my mind with a jolt that travels through my entire body, swirling around my heart. I had forgotten she can communicate this way; it's the first time she's done so with me. Are you all right? I ask in a rush. Did they recognize you? Are you hurt?

I'm not hurt, she says. And they don't know who I am. After a moment's pause, she adds, I knew you'd come.

I swallow hard, touched by the certainty I hear in her voice. Where are you being held?

I'm not sure. I was blindfolded when they brought me here. But from the window, I can tell we're high in the tower.

I start moving again. How many others are with you?

Twelve. And they told me why we're here.

Why?

The High-Lord is looking for a wife. He'll choose from one of us.

I frown, remembering the conversation I heard in the dining hall. Is this what they were talking about? My hands tighten into fists. I should be relieved that her secret is still intact, though the idea of the High-Lord choosing her sickens me. I know I don't deserve her, but I can't allow some decrepit old man to have her either. And that's not the only thing to worry about. What if the High-Lord knows exactly who she is? Garreg is here with me, I say. We're going to get you out.

Wait, Cress. What if this can help us?

I frown as I pass a group of Noble-lords on the sixth floor. Not one of them looks in my direction. What do you mean?

What if the High-Lord knows something about the prince?

The thought hadn't even occurred to me. It's likely he knows everything that goes on in the city. Can I let Syndel put herself at risk?

've never met the High-Lord before, she says as if guessing my concern. He won't know who I am.

Are you sure? I ask, liking this plan even less than any of Garreg's.

Yes. We're supposed to be presented to him in his chambers at sundown. I can make sure he chooses me.

She plans to use her ability of persuasion. The image it brings makes my blood boil. I force myself to remain calm for her sake. Be careful.

I will.

Feeling wretched, I turn on my heel and walk back down to the fourth floor.

“You're back sooner than I anticipated,” Garreg says when I enter the room. “Did you find her?”

“Yes,” I say, telling him everything I've discovered, including Syndel's plan.

“She's a brave young lady,” Garreg says. “I'm sure she'll be fine.”

“I plan to make sure of that,” I say. “I'm going to be there when it all happens.”

Garreg taps his chin thoughtfully. “A hasty move, but I think it could work. I've been waiting to hear when our appointment with the High-Lord will be. I'm beginning to think it won't happen until after he inspects his choices for a wife. Perhaps we'll arrive unannounced as the sun sets. It might make him angry, but I doubt he'll have us arrested.”

“And if you can ask him about Bronek yourself, Syndel won't have to.”

Garreg nods.

For the first time since coming here, I agree wholeheartedly with the plan.

***

The sun is low in the sky, telling us it's time to make our move. Garreg holds his head high, stopping the first servant we see as we leave our room.

“Where can I find the High-Lord's chambers?”

The young man blinks at him as if this is the first question anyone has ever asked him. “Tenth floor, Your Excellence.”

Garreg nods curtly, brushing past him the way a disdainful superior would. I have to admit he plays the part well.

We climb the staircase.

Our way is unchallenged until we reach the tenth floor. I suddenly halt as the burning of the pendant doubles. Something is wrong. Rubbing at the spot on my chest, I find out the reason. Only one hallway meets us, and it's lined on both sides with Soulless guards standing rigidly at attention.

“Now what?” I whisper to Garreg.

The stone man squares his shoulders and moves forward, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. I follow, resisting the urge to look to my left or right to see if the Soulless are even aware of our presence. The door at the end of the hall is blocked by more mindless guards. Garreg clears his throat.

“I am Frand Sosuman, Mid-Lord of Wellind. I wish to speak with the High-Lord.”

None of the guards move; they don't even blink. Then, from within the room beyond the thick door, comes a slightly muffled voice. “Let him enter.”

As one, the guards step aside, making the door accessible. Garreg reaches for the knob and turns it. We enter the spacious room, looking around for our host.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Eminence,” Garreg says, moving forward, “but I cannot stay long in Heldra and I wished to speak with you before departing.”

“Your apology is not necessary,” comes the voice, though the speaker is still not in view. “I knew of your arrival and should have sent for you sooner. Please sit. Both of you.”

I'm surprised that he's acknowledged me. Perhaps he is more tolerant than the rest of them. We take a seat among a semi-circle of cushioned chairs, still waiting for the High-Lord to reveal himself. I suddenly see movement behind a sheer veil hanging from the wall to the right.

“Now,” comes the voice, from the same direction as the veil, “let's begin with you telling me who you are.”

Garreg cocks his head to one side. “I thought you knew. I'm Frand So—”

“No,” the High-Lord interrupts, “who you really are.”

I stiffen. He knows we're imposters. Garreg, however, doesn't flinch at all. “What do you mean, Your Eminence?”

“You look like Frand. A clever trick of some sort. Yet, as a boy, Frand was in a riding accident which twisted his left leg, giving him a permanent limp. So unless his leg has miraculously healed, you are not Frand. Which begs the question: why shouldn't I call my guards and have you escorted to the dungeon?”

“You're right, Your Eminence,” Garreg says, still remaining calm. “I am not Frand. But the ruse was necessary. We're looking for someone who is rumored to be here in the city and we hoped you might be able to help us.”

Silence fills the room for several seconds. “I'm listening.”

“He's a Soulless. A very dangerous one.”

A laugh. “A dangerous Soulless? In Heldra? You must be mistaken. As you've seen, every Soulless here is a slave, unable to do anything unless I tell them to. It is not possible for an unfettered Soulless to be in my city.”

Garreg persists. “The Soulless I speak of is much different than any other. He is clever enough to hide right under your nose.”

“Impossible,” the voice retorts in anger. “I suggest you leave now or I'll use my better judgment and have you arrested.”

I rise to my feet, determined to get Syndel now and leave this place for good, but I freeze in place. The pendant suddenly goes cold against my skin.

“Wait,” the High-Lord says. “You. Have we met before?”

I know he's speaking to me. My throat constricts. “I don't believe so, Your Eminence.”

More movement from behind the veil, as if he's pacing. “There's something familiar about you, something I've known from the past. Almost like. . .” The pacing stops and the veil is suddenly thrown back. A young man, not old as I envisioned, stands there, his narrowed eyes fixed on me. My mouth falls open as I stare back at the High-Lord of Heldra, leader of the Noble-lords who have hunted Soulless for hundreds of years.

It's Bronek.