Dex doubles over with laughter when Sophie tells him the news.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes between breaths while Sophie looks on, unamused. "I'm not laughing because of your grades. I'm laughing because I can't believe Forkle decided on Keefe. Out of everyone at Foxfire, without a second thought."

"Mr. Forkle showed me Keefe's Alchemy grades," Sophie adds. "He's been top of his class since he was a Level Two."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Dex replies. "But also, this is Keefe we're talking about."

Sophie laughs soundlessly. She's a little apprehensive about the idea of spending one-on-one time with Keefe—given their last encounter alone in Everglen—but she also feels better knowing she won't be tutored by a complete stranger.

Dex shivers and draws his cloak tighter around himself. "Where is Greyfell, anyway?"

She peers up into the white-blue sky. "He should be here soon." The alicorn was usually hesitant to land anywhere too close to the Lost Cities, but here at Rimeshire they're so far north that they're isolated from any kind of civilization, elvin or human.

Right on cue, a crack of thunder sounds from above, and Greyfell swoops down to the earth on blue-tipped wings. He lets out a soft grunt when Sophie reaches towards him, warm breath pluming out of his nostrils like smoke.

"Hi, boy," she croons. "Dex and I want to visit Wylie. Can you take us there?"

Greyfell whinnies softly.

Moments later, she and Dex are sitting astride the alicorn, her fingers tangled in Greyfell's silky mane. She squeezes her eyes shut as Greyfell tucks in his wings and plummets.

When she opens her eyes, they've teleported to a completely different landscape, surrounded by gently sloping moorland. A stone cottage sits amidst a meadow of heather, warm and inviting under the overcast sky.

Sophie strokes the alicorn's neck gratefully as she slides off Greyfell's back. The alicorn leaps into the air and circles above them as Sophie and Dex make their way towards the house.

Prentice answers the door and smiles at them, his eyes crinkling kindly. "I'm glad you're both here. Come on in."

The interior is decorated in shades of cozy beiges and blues—couches draped with knit blankets, fuzzy rugs on tiled floors, neatly cut logs in a basket by the fireplace. Prentice leads them upstairs, past windowsills lined with vases of lavender, to a room painted eggshell white. A curtained window looks out onto the heather meadows. Wylie lays on the bed, tucked under a pale blue quilt, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths.

"He's been in and out of consciousness because of the medicines he's on," Prentice explains quietly, "and Maruca visited earlier, so he's quite drained of energy."

"Of course," Sophie says understandingly, feeling a little relieved to hear that Maruca isn't here right now. Sophie's spent the past few days avoiding her friends under the excuse of Black Swan duties. Even Dex doesn't know about the fight she had with Maruca. Sophie doesn't want him to feel forced to side with one of them, or even worse, he would confirm what she already knows to be true—that Sophie had failed them.

They sit at Wylie's bedside, and Prentice settles in an armchair across from them. "The last time I was here, I was the one in recovery, not Wylie," Prentice says with a chuckle. "But both times, we have had you to thank, Sophie."

Sophie has a distant memory of visiting this place years ago to heal Prentice's broken mind. She tries for a smile, but Maruca's words keep echoing in her ear. You're the Moonlark. You're supposed to help people.

"I just hope I did enough this time," she replies solemnly.

Prentice looks at her with thinly veiled surprise. "There's no need to be so hard on yourself," he says gently. "You have accomplished more than the Black Swan could have hoped for, both as a Moonlark and as an elf of the Lost Cities."

"It doesn't really feel like that sometimes," she admits. She can feel Dex giving her a worried glance, but she ignores him, staring down at Wylie's sleeping face instead. "I know I can do more. But people I care about still seem to get hurt."

Prentice chuckles. "You're beginning to sound like Jolie. She was hard on herself, too, always striving to do the right thing, even before she took on the role of the Moonlark."

"Were you friends with her?" Dex asks curiously.

"When you're working behind enemy lines with someone, you tend to develop a certain bond." Prentice smiles fondly. "Even in the face of danger, Jolie was fearlessly kind and loyal, and relentlessly protective of her loved ones. No matter what," he adds, his tone shifting to something quieter, more serious.

Sophie lets it sink in, turning it over and over in her mind. "Grady told me the same thing." Jolie was adored by everyone who knew her, it seems. Sophie's not sure how she could ever live up to that kind of reputation.

But Vespera had known Jolie too.

Sophie hadn't mentioned it at the Black Swan debriefing after the explosion, mostly because they were more focused on protecting Foxfire. The last time she had brought up Jolie, Mr. Forkle hadn't exactly reacted well. It's a detail she mostly kept to herself without realizing—partly because she'd dismissed Vespera as a liar, partly because she was afraid to know the truth.

"The night of the dance," Sophie says, "Vespera told me she knew Jolie. That they'd known each other." She looks at Prentice. "Is that... true?"

Prentice goes still. He settles against his seat, gazing out the window. "Yes. It is."

"Did Jolie break her out of Lumenaria?"

"It's not what you think." A shadow passes over his handsome features. "Everything I said about her is true. She always wanted to do the right thing. She believed she could fix everything that was ugly about our world."

Sophie frowns. "And she wanted to fix... Vespera?"

"She wanted to fix Lodestar," Prentice corrects. "The Neverseen. All of it. She was a loving person, Sophie, but to a fault." He shakes his head. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. It's in the past. You shouldn't worry yourselves over it."

"But—"

Wylie coughs, turning his head in his sleep. His breathing sounds raspy and dry.

Immediately, Prentice is hovering over his son, tucking in his sheets and checking his temperature. "I need to get him some water," he says with a frown.

"I can get it," Dex offers, and hurries downstairs.

Sophie watches as Wylie mutters absently, then falls quiet. She desperately wants to talk to him, to hear his voice. "Can I ask you something?" she says to Prentice.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Did Maruca say anything about me when she was here?" Sophie asks hesitantly.

Prentice considers this. "I don't believe she did. Why?"

"Well, we sort of had a fight." Sophie swallows around the lump in her throat. "She said she blamed me for what happened to Wylie. And Biana."

His expression softens. "I'm sorry that happened, Sophie. Maruca can be... abrasive when she finds herself emotionally vulnerable. Please believe me when I say I'm sure she didn't mean it."

"Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. Maruca looks up to you a great deal, you know."

Sophie's eyes widen. "She does?"

Prentice smiles. "Don't tell her I told you," he says in a mock-whisper. "But yes. When the rest of our family turned their backs on Wylie after I was gone... well, she and her mother were the only ones to support our association to the Black Swan. Maruca grew up listening to Wylie's stories of your adventures together." He sighs. "The reality of this life has hit her harder than she realized. She'll come around, but she needs space to heal."

Out in the hallway, footsteps thunder up the stairs. They turn towards the door in confusion as Dex bolts into the room, carrying a jug of water that spills over the rim as he comes to a halt, splashing water all over the floor.

"Dex!" Sophie says, shocked. "What's gotten into you?"

Prentice takes the jug warily from Dex. Dex hunches over to catch his breath. "Did you see Forkle's message?" he pants. "On your Imparters?"

Frowning, Prentice picks up his Imparter from the nightstand. His eyes flick over the screen before he raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh. That was fast."

"What?" Sophie demands. "What's going on?"

Dex hands her his own Imparter to read the message from Mr. Forkle. "The Council scheduled Alvar's tribunal," he explains to her.

She glances up in confusion. "This says the tribunal is three days from now. That's not a lot of time."

"Don't tribunals normally take longer to plan?" Dex asks. "Why would they make it so soon?"

"They likely want this taken care of as quickly and quietly as possible," Prentice answers. "It's not unusual for major criminal offenses like Alvar's. And the longer we wait, the more we risk him becoming a target for the Neverseen."

Sophie doesn't even want to think about the possibility of that happening. This tribunal would be key to forging their alliance with the Council—and more importantly, to finding out more about the elusive Vacker Legacy.

"Three days it is," she says.