"Perséphone! Votre français êtes aller de mieux en mieux." Lindy teased as we sat down in the Grand Hall for breakfast and I smiled, thinking back to the evenings spent in my room, in the library surrounded by books, and occasionally in girls' dorm with Lindy, Cass and Trena but Lindy was right though, my French has been getting better and that's mostly because she's been the one tutoring me. I glanced around at the four friends I've made so far and felt a tickle in my stomach, they were my first female friends, aside from the Queen, but even within the Four Suits the stage names that we carry are our alter-egos, so in a way the Queen doesn't truly count since I don't even know her name, let alone her true identity and she's no wiser of mine.

It started off with Andrew helping every evening after dinner (except Sundays because of the aforementioned family dinner tradition), then it expanded to the rest of his friends when I realized, two months into our evening sessions, that Andrew himself had his own homework to worry about but never made notice to mention to me and he never complained either. Andrew had a full course of classes that's set to preparing him for the rest of his life outside in the real world. I had only the necessary classes to prepare me for the one mission expected of me.

"Le Portugais de Perséphone est mieux," Andrew said as he sat down next to Lindy, a hint of tease in his eyes as he playfully elbowed her. Well, I wouldn't say my Portuguese is better, but since it is Andrew who has been helping me in Portuguese, I felt rude saying otherwise.

"Non, Le Chinese de Persephone est meilleur que le Portugais de Persephone," Tristan joined in, he winked at me and slid into the seat next to Andrew, forcing Andrew to scoot over. Well, Tristan wasn't wrong we made faster progress in Chinese than any of the others, but that's mostly because Chinese is my native tongue.

I felt someone slide into the seat next to mine and turned to see Morgan, who gave me a quick, shy smile before her gaze went down to the plate in front of her.

Something slipped into my hand as I was finishing my breakfast, I looked down and saw a small, neatly folded paper tucked between my fingers and palm, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Morgan had turned her face away. I tucked the note into pocket then heard rapid footsteps patting down our way and then passing our table.

"Hey sis, where's the fire?" Tristan asked, though he was supposed to be speaking and practicing his French. Scarlet whipped around and came back to our table.

"Have any of you seen Julian?" Scarlet asked and I leaned slightly back to see if any of the teachers heard them speaking in English, luckily they didn't seem to be paying close attention.

"The cute senior?" Tristan asked. I saw Thomas jerk his head up from his book, and a smile twitched on Tristan's lip but he didn't let it show. Thomas narrowed his eyes at Tristan and gave him a look.

"Yes, who else is working with me on the senior COW assignment?"

"Way to go, Scar," Tristan winked at his sister and Scarlet rolled her eyes but Tristan continued, "are you two not done?"

"No, we are. We finished yesterday. I just wanted to go through somethings with him." Scarlet explained but then another eye roll came when Tristan raised a brow, almost teasing Scarlet of her wanting to 'go through somethings'. "You're no help."

"Doesn't Julian always disappear from time to time?" Cass asked after Scarlet walked away. Everyone did a little shrug as they looked around each other. "Do you think he'll become the next Chameleon?" Then all eyes turned to Andrew, who just raised a brow.

"Watch out, big bro," Morgan said her voice teasing, "you're going to have competition." But Andrew only smirked and shrugged one shoulder.

"I like competition." He said.

The three months I've been here, I've learnt that Agent Goode was once, and apparently still is, best known as the Chameleon, a code name she earned for herself when she was a Gallagher Girl and made herself a pavement artist who can blend into her surroundings. I took a glance at Andrew, who sat casually with his back slightly slouched, something Madam Dabney would be less than pleased with, and knew he would live up to his mother's legacy. That's to say Andrew was anything but plain, he wasn't an eye-sore or stick out in any incredible way, he looked… ordinary, he wasn't taller than the average male but he wasn't shorter, nor was his build too large to stare or too petite to be disregarded. If I had my comparisons, I would say he reminded me of the Jack of the Four Suits, height-wise, personality-wise not so much. Where the Jack was spontaneous, Andrew was reserved but both, I can tell, have their own way of being cunning.

Just as I was starting to get up, Andrew looked up at me and asked, "You done?" I nodded and he stood up too. I gave him a quizzical look before heading toward the doors when Andrew fell into the steps next to mine.

"Where do you usually go after breakfast on Saturday?" He asked while we walked out from the hall underneath the grand stairs and turned up to the stairs together, my hand glided up the black banister while Andrew kept his in his pockets.

"Dramatics class," I answered, "I have a class in the morning every Saturday." Andrew gave me a curious look but turned when a bunch of eighth and ninth graders came jogging down the stairs, we both stepped aside, I felt Andrew's hand at the small of my back, and waited for the crowd to pass.

"We don't have a Dramatics class?" He said once the stairs were cleared again, although it sounded more like he was questioning himself while he watched the group run out the front doors, probably heading to the P&E barn.

"You don't, it's a class just for me." But before he could question any further, I added, "Classified." Andrew nodded, then slipped his hand back into his pocket, though he knew better than to ask any further I knew the questions were swarming in his mind, it seeped from his clothes and skin as he walked beside me.

"Andrew," Macey gave Andrew a nod when he and I walked into the room that, as Macey has briefly told me on my first day with her, was the replica room where their suite used to be when Macey, Dr. Ng, Agent Goode and Mrs. Newman went to the Gallagher Academy together, back when it was a school just for girls and the mansion was smaller (or as small as a mansion can be without the new corridors and extensions) and much older. Andrew brought his fingers near his temple, tipping an imaginary hat as he bowed slightly.

"Mrs. Macey," he said and Macey rolled her brilliant blue eyes, a smile threatening to escape her coral pink lips.

"You are so much like your father," she said then ushered Andrew out of the room before closing the door and bringing out a pair of black heels from behind her. "You need learn to walk, run and fight in heels. It might not be necessary, but it's better to expand to these skills than not to and potentially getting injured, or worse, killed because you don't know how to kill in heels." Macey explained as she handed me the heels. I took the heels, kicked off my boots and slipped on the shoes and walked across the room with good balance, and saw both Macey's lips and brow quirked up.

"I know how to walk in them," I said, thinking back to the days in the Four Suits when the King, very offended might I add, first found out I couldn't walk in heels and forced me to practice in them for our performance. "Running and fighting, on the other hand…"

"Well, that's where Bex and I come in," Macey said then the door opened and in the doorway stood Mrs. Newman with her arms crossed and a devilish smile played on her lips.

"Mrs. Newman?" I said, astonished but Mrs. Newman frowned.

"Bex is fine, I prefer Bex," she said with a flick of her wrist, waving away the formality, then the devilish smile came back and she cocked her head to the side, indicating that I should follow, as she walked away.

"Where are we going?" I asked while Macey ushered me out.

"P&E barn," Bex shouted back without turning her head.

"You think I'm just going to let Bex throw you around on these floors?" Macey said with a raised brow.

"These heels will pierce the mats," I tried though I don't even know why, I should be grateful I was going to have a something to cushion my fall.

"Second floor, there's hay you can fall back on." Macey explained and I nodded, then remembering the note, I reached into the pocket of my skirt, slowing slightly and Macey, after a quick glance at the small note from the corner of her eyes, walked ahead and joined Bex's side. I unfolded the paper and read the neat, cute writing that I've seen before on my Tagalog notes.

Tonight at 7, could you meet me at the third floor of the library?
~ Morgan

I was back in my room, giving my feet a well-deserved massage when the door to my room opened and Andrew leaned in, a smile on his face as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"How was Dramatics?" He asked and I fell back on my bed with a plop. Andrew walked over and sat down next to me so that not only were our knees touching but our entire thighs were mushed close together. I felt myself stiffen as he looked over his shoulder at me, waiting for an answer.

"Kicked my ass," I managed to say and he smiled, I felt I had to keep talking or I just might lose my voice all together under his gaze so I continued, "well, technically, it kicked my stomach and took me out from under my feet." The smile stayed on his face as he bit the bottom corner of his lip and laughed softly. I was very well aware of the thin layer of clothes between us, especially with my bare thigh pressed against the thin fabric of his khaki, but Andrew, on the other hand, seemed less aware or if he was, he didn't show it because then he laid down next to me, so that our entire sides were touching and I wondered if it was getting a little warmer in my room, and if he could hear the loud beat of my pounding heart.

"I heard you were up against Bex," Andrew said to the ceiling, his voice was quiet and deep in his throat, and I was relieved he didn't turn his head. "I'm surprised you escaped with your life." He joked and I laughed lightly, trying not to swallow too loudly.

"I'm pretty sure she was going easy on me," I made the mistake of turning my head because then Andrew turned his and our gazes met, and I felt my breath catch. This was the closest I've ever been to Andrew, body and face-wise, and I could see all the little details that made his face as… well as Andrew's face; a small nick dented the skin just above his dark brows, the narrow slope of his nose, the slight redness of his thin lips, the sharp V of his chin. From the corner of my eyes I saw his hand move, but before he could do anything I abruptly sat up and looked back at him. "So what brings you here?" I asked, thankful for the brief air I got before Andrew sat up too and scratched the nape of his neck.

My eyes couldn't help tracing over the slight arch of his back as he slouched, or noticing how the sleeves to his uniform hugged his arms and the way he wore the sleeves rolled up, revealing the skin of his forearms, where, now that I'm close enough to notice, on the outside of his right forearm there was a long, faint white line, a piece of his past showing through the present him. I wondered what had made that scar on his arm and near his brows that wasn't worth mentioning, but then I remembered I had many scars of my own that will probably never see the light of day. Everyone had their secrets, and sometimes secrets, whether in or out, comes with scars and scars, after all, were scabs, and scabs weren't meant to be picked at.

"Tomorrow the whole school gets to go into town," Andrew's voice brought me back from the path behind my mind.

"Oh."

"And I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie or something." Before I could reply he quickly added, "of course the others will be there too." Andrew's gaze was down at our pressed knees, the tips of his ears were pink, and I found myself smiling.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Andrew's gaze was back on me, but only for a brief second before five people burst into my room and Andrew shot up from my bed, turning to his friends. I followed after.

"Guys!" Lindy squealed, "Look!" she held up a black and white flyer and my stomach did a flip as I read the words bolded in white text against the black flyer:

THE FOUR SUITS

in Roseville, Virginia
Preforming on NOVEMBER 16 the Angela Stevenson auditorium
Evening show ONLY: 8:00pm

Underneath the informative yet completely vague words were three white cards fanned out, each card with a J, K and Q in black and on the bottom stood three white silhouettes of the members under their respective cards. The silhouettes were simple, yet displayed the trademarks of each member and my eyes skimmed through all three, remembering how each of them looked in person.

Under the J was a white silhouette of a man with a black vest and a black mask around his mouth, his hand merged with the white frays of his hair as his head bowed slightly, as if tipping it like a gentleman would tip his hat. Next to the man was another who stood under the K, but instead of wearing a mask around his mouth, he wore a mask that covered his eyes and the left side of his face as it curved down, just above where his mouth should be, he wore a crown above his head with a black tie instead of a vest. Next to that man was a white silhouette of a woman and she, too, wore a crown and a knee-length dress, and on her face was a mask that mirrored the man's mask next her, except it covered her right side of her face. The three silhouettes stood perfectly centered in the middle: the Jack, the King, the Queen and my eyes drifted to the spot next to the Queen, where one member was missing, the Ace. My mind raced back to our previous show, the show I didn't know that would be my last performance with the Four Suits, and given the foresight I might have relished my last day with them, but at that time it was like any other day.

Before the show, I helped the Queen into her simple black, knee-length dress and laced up the back, I smoothed out the dress from her waist down and saw the glimmer of the gold thread that looped into a fancy Q just at the bottom of her dress. The King had just emerged from one of the red velvet curtains of the changing rooms, he shrugged on the black suit and buttoned it over the tie that hung around his neck, he certainly looked like a King, but not the King I've come to know during our rehearsals, and I thought perhaps the King, too, had many other masks aside from the Four Suits. On the side of his left arm was the letter K written in fancy gold thread. Both the King and Queen adjusted their masks, unknowingly of their simultaneous action and I tried not to laugh as to point out their mirroring actions because on the second day of our odd little assembly, the King and Queen had declared somewhat of an opposition to one another.

The King had a simple black and white mask that covered his eyes and the left side of his face just above his lips, while the Queen had the same mask but in laces that covered her right side instead. Just as I slipped on my short black leather gloves, the Jack appeared, leaning into the room with his hands on the side of the door frames to support his weight and I assumed he was grinning from the way his eyes smiled because his mouth was hidden away with a black mouth mask. From the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt, I could see the restraints of his arms as they pushed back his weight against gravity. The King crossed the room to the plump couch in front of the fireplace and tossed both the Jack and I, our jackets – the Jack's vest, my short sleeved jacket – and we slipped into our clothes with our trademarks on the sides, both in gold thread as well (the Jack's J displayed on the left of his chest, while my A was on the right of my chest).

"Ready?" The Jack asked, his voice muffled slightly but not completely by the mouth mask, after we had walked to the small round marble table at the side of the room. The King reached into the inside pocket of his suit and held out a blue tarot card.

"Judgement," The King's voice was deep and matter-of-fact as he spoke while holding up his tarot card, at the bottom of the card was the word
Judgement in bold letters, "Judgement, Rebirth, Inner Calling, Absolution." The King cited and then the Queen took out her blue tarot card.

"Justice," The Queen said in her honeyed voice as she held up her card, "Justice, Responsibility, Decision, Cause and Effect."

"The Hanged Man," The Jack spoke, his voice silvery and he, too, held up his card and cited, "Letting Go, Reversal, Suspension, Sacrifice."


"The Moon," I said and just like all the others I held up my card with
The Moon in bold letters as I cited, "Fear, Illusion, Imagination, Bewilderment."

"Solitude before the Four," the same words echoed in four different tones as we placed our cards down in the middle of the table. I glanced up at the mirror across from me, settled between the Jack and the King, and saw a girl with raven black hair that almost merged with her black jacket, the gold thread of her trademark just peeking through. Her dark brown eyes were covered by a fancy black eye mask. I was no longer Persephone Blackburn then, I was the Ace.

"All of you do know that saying is kind of depressing," the Jack said as we made our way to the doors.

"And yet, oh so true," the King replied.

"The Four Suits are in town! They're performing tonight!" Lindy and Cass both squealed, and for the second time that day, within minutes of each other, I had wandered back to the path behind my mind.

"Andrew, we gotta go." Tristan said, equally as pumped and excited as Lindy and Cass.

"What happened to their fourth member?" Andrew nodded to the flyer and I tried hard not to move or draw attention to myself.

"I think the Ace is out, but they're still keeping the name, so maybe they're just looking for another Ace?" Trena offered.

Oh, if only they knew.

"So, Andrew?" Thomas stepped forward, gesturing to the flyer, looking as eager as I have ever seen him. "Let's go." Thomas Ng, as far as I've seen, is the most solemn person I have met, with the occasional twitch of a smile that peaks through but most of the time when I see him, it's always with his nose in a book or in his notes and sometimes that's interrupted with the need to throw a look or two at Tristan.

"Guys, there's no way my mom's going to let us out. You know we're not allowed outside the gates." Andrew said and everyone raised their brows at him, Trena and Tristan crossed their arms, all of them challenging him. Andrew swung his head back with his eyes closed, exposing his throat to the light and I couldn't help looking at his Adam's apple and notice how… attractive he was then. Honestly, what makes guys and their Adam's apple so attractive? And as if that sight of Andrew wasn't enough, he just had to make a deep sound in his throat that was mixed between a groan and moan. Attempting to distract myself, I glanced around the group to see victorious grins stretching across each face, knowing they had won this battle. My eyes flicked back to Andrew and caught him looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"Fine," He said, flinging his head back to face everyone, "there's one passageway I know that can lead us out the back." Lindy and Cass squealed as they hugged Andrew then darted out the room. Tristan smooshed Andrew's cheek with his lips, forcing Andrew to lean into Trena's fist as she punched his arm and Thomas… rubbed his back before hooking an arm around Tristan's stomach and dragging him away with Trena behind. Somewhere through the whole scene, Andrew had his hands back in his pockets and he turned his attention to me now that we were alone again.

"Care to go, Ms. Magician?" Andrew asked with his lips quirked up, he tapped the floor with the tip of his shoe as he looked at me. A part of me wanted to say yes and go out with everyone, to enjoy the night out and be just a little normal if allowed, but another part of me also knew I shouldn't. No, I couldn't because a part of me knew I couldn't just sit in the audience and watch from that side, to just look from the outside in. I knew I would long then I would want, and wanting, right now, was dangerous to the mission, it was dangerous for the Goodes. So I bit the bottom of my lips until they hurt, and gave Andrew my most apologetic smile as I spewed out an excuse with the most convincing tone and face I could muster from my lessons in Dramatics, which seemed to pay off as Andrew nodded and didn't pester me further (thank you, Macey).

I pushed open one of the frosted double doors to the library and made my way past the front desk that sat cozily in between two white stairways curving upward, but the front desk was empty, as always because the real adventure was upstairs, so I made my way up the soft, carpet-padded stairs. On the first floor, in the centre of the library was a tall, large in diameter tower where if one were to step through the tall archway (with high enough clearance, which seems to be the sophomores and plus) and into the tower, one would find themselves surrounded by a maze of shelves, stairs and books, more delicate and historic books too sensitive to be out in the outer shelves in the library. In the tower, it was a maze of wide tunnels that connected to the higher grounds of the library. Around the outside of the tower, sat couches for lounging, and long and round tables for studying, at the side of the round walls were shelves upon shelves of more sturdier books lined all around and other stairs leading up to higher floors with more books and more areas to lounge about or study.

I made my way to the side of the tower, where a glass elevator sat and stepped in. I pulled the shiny lever at the side to the number 3 and watched as the elevator took me up, passing through the maze of the tunnels that branched out and connected to the outer walls, I watched as students and rows of books rolled passed me until I reached the top floor. The third floor of the library was definitely one of my favourite places to be, I didn't even need to step out of the elevator to enjoy the view above me, a glass dome filled the entire roof, allowing for peaceful stargazing as some areas on the floors of the third floor had couches and cushions settled into the ground, off to the side a modest fire was dancing in the stone fireplace.

I searched around for Morgan and found a small figure sitting at one of the benches that curved against where the dome met the wall. Morgan was leaning against the glass of the dome, looking out over the lake that sat behind the school with a forest of orange and red surrounding it, fall was here and winter was approaching. I quietly made my way over to her and sat down on the cushioned seat of the bench, looking out over the lake I could see the shimmering of the water under the light of the crescent moon above.
"I think, when I graduate, I'm going to miss the library to most," Morgan's voice was quiet, and I thought she might start crying but when I took a glance at her and saw her smiling softly down at the lake, I nodded and smiled too.

"Yeah," I said softly as I watched the slow, soft ebb and flow of the lake's water under the light of the crescent moon. The library, especially the third floor, was a breathtaking and exciting experience but it was too exposed. I felt too many people knew of its existence and preferred an area that was smaller, cozier and less known. I thought back to the round room I found in my little passageway journey, with the four windows that faced the same lake I was looking down at right now, and my mind drifted to the piano stored in that room, waiting to be played again by hands that have found them in solitude, blissfully unaware its presences was a ghost to this school.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I asked, shifting my body so I was leaning against the glass with my back to the lake and my attention turned to Morgan. Morgan shifted shyly in her seat, pulling her legs closer to her then tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Could you…" Morgan began her voice was so quiet and muffled by her knee that I had to lean in to hear her, but then something must have snapped in her mind because she quickly straightened herself and sat cross-legged instead. "Could you teach me some of your magic tricks?"

I found myself lucky to have had the glass wall behind me because I was definitely not expecting that. I think I may have been gaping at her because Morgan began playing with her thumbs, her eyes were everywhere but on me, and she blushed furiously as she weakly mumbled, "Or not,"

I blinked myself out of stupefaction, and apologized for being rude before adding, "No, yeah I would love to teach you… but how did you know?" I asked and was not expecting Morgan to smile mischievously before shrugging and pulling her legs back toward her chest. She rested her chin on her knees before another smile broke across her lips.

"My brother talks about you," she said, the innocent smile turning back to a devilish one, "well, not often in front of Mom and Dad, but when they're in the kitchen together, Andrew would talk about you. A lot." Morgan's eyes widened slightly as she emphasized 'a lot', and then a grin stretched her lips as she giggled. Unable to look at her and being painfully aware of the warm tips of my ears and the heat rising to my face, I pulled my legs closer to me and buried my face. I heard Morgan giggle again, so I reached out and gently pushed her away that made her giggle even more. I rolled my eyes, and couldn't help the foolish smile from breaking across my lips before pushing myself back into the glass wall, and agreeing to teach her some magic tricks.

"What's wrong?" I asked after watching her enthusiastic smile dwindle as she began tapping her chin on her knees. Morgan's eyes met mine and I realized, though they were siblings, the brother and sister had different eye colours. Morgan's eyes weren't the same as Andrew's, whose was a warm chocolate brown, instead Morgan's was a dark forest green, and I wondered if Mr. Goode's eyes were a dark green. Morgan shrugged after a moment, her hands lightly rubbed her arms as she began to rock back and forth, and her lips bunched to the side.

"Do you think my parents love me? I mean, are they proud of me?" Morgan asked after a moment, her voice cracking slightly as she looked back up at me, her dark eyes searching earnestly into mine. I felt the corner of my lip twitch up, the words were at the tip of my tongue but I knew I couldn't say my thoughts.

If they didn't then I wouldn't be here
.

Instead I said softly, "of course they love you, they have every right to be proud of you." But Morgan just shrugged and shook her head a little.

"I'm not– I'm not the next Chameleon like Andrew, I'm nothing like my older brother, Matthew. I'm not cut out for field work. I can't be the spy everyone expects me to be."

"Morgan, I don't think your parents are expecting you to be exactly like your brothers," I began to say but Morgan shook her head.

"There are expectations from everyone else. I'm one of the legacies of two secret agents who stopped World War III from happening, I'm the grandchild of the Morgans and Joseph Solomon is my grandfather, and–" Morgan stopped, she was not one to brag and I knew that very well, because nothing in her tone told me she wanted all this. So I knew Morgan wasn't looking for attention when her breaths came in heavy and her eyes glossy as tears lined the bottom, threatening to spew, and I think, better than anyone, she needed to be listened to. I saw her fingers digging into the sleeves of her uniform, her jaw clenched and then Morgan's eyes became glassy, distant in thought before they returned back to me, an almost empty expression, her voice cracked as she said ever so quietly, "I'm scared,"

Without thinking, I reached over and pulled Morgan into my arms, allowing her weight to lean against me as I stroked her hair, under my arms I felt Morgan tremble and heard soft hiccups as she turned her face into my shoulder and cried.

"Shh, it's okay to be scared," I whispered into her hair, remembering the words I wanted to hear for so long, "it's okay to cry," I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against Morgan's hair.

"But I'm scared,"

"Tell me what you're scared of," I said softly, stroking her hair. Morgan's voice was quiet and muffled as she spoke.

"Shut up!" The slap had stunned her silent for a moment but then she burst out crying and wailing even more, holding a small hand up to her red cheek that stung. "I said shut up!" Another hit came but before another sound could escape her lips, she was dragged up by the front of her shirt.

"I'm scared of the expectations. What if I'm not as good as everyone wants me to be? What if I disappoint my parents? I'm scared of being out in the field and messing up. One mess up can cost the life of another, and I– I don't know if I want to a field agent." Morgan buried her face into the palms of her hands.

"If I hear you cry one more time, I'll smash your head between those doors, got it?"

"It's okay to cry," I said again as I gently pulled her hands away and leaned into view, so her eyes caught mine, "it's okay to be uncertain." I tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek.

"So you're not like your brothers, and you are definitely not your parents or your grandparents because, Morgan, you are you." I stared firmly into her eyes, my hands held tightly on to hers, making sure she knew my words were certain as I continued, "The world doesn't need another Agent Goode or Mr. Goode, or Joseph Solomon," – whoever he was – "the world needs a Morgan Goode, do you understand?" Morgan nodded silently, pulling back she wiped her eyes and I gently rubbed her back.

"Thanks, Persephone, for listening," Morgan said sheepishly after she had taken a large breath in and allowed her breathing to slow. I leaned in, kissing the side of her temple and felt her smile, and then Morgan said something I never knew I wanted to hear, "I'm glad the world has a Persephone Blackburn," I watched as she looked up at me, smiling softly, I stroked her hair once more before looking down at my watch.

"It's half past seven, you should get ready for tonight's show," I said as I stood up. Morgan rubbed her eyes then waved a hand.
"I think I'll stay here for a bit, I don't want to go around looking like this," she said gesturing to her red eyes. I nodded an okay and bent down to give her a hug before heading down the elevator and out the front door.

"We are not bugging Persephone's room!" The voice hissed. I stopped at the sound of my name and pressed myself against the wall, the voice sounded close, close enough that if I had turned the corner I would have ran into them. "Are you guys out of your minds?" My heart thumped against my chest and in my ears, I think it had less to do with my eavesdropping and more to do with knowing who the voice belonged to.

"Besides, what are you guys expecting to get out of bugging her room? She lives alone," Andrew continued and then quickly added, "and before you even suggest it, we are not planting cameras in her room."

"Andrew, aren't you the least bit curious about her?" Another voice came in a whisper and I recognized the soft southern accent that was similar to Dr. Ng's, it was Cass's voice.

"For all we know, she could be a honeypot." Lindy's voice joined, and I wondered if all six of them were there. I heard the anger and displeasure in Andrew's tone as he jumped to my defense, though I must admit I hadn't the slightest of what a 'honeypot' meant but from the tone of Andrew's voice, it must have been implied as a synonym for insulting, or such.

"She's definitely not! How could you even think–"

"But Andrew, she–"

"She has a name!" I jumped at the sudden anger in Andrew's raised voice, and then more quietly but not calmly, he steadily said, "And her name is Persephone," No one said anything afterwards, I was starting to think they were gone when Tristan's voice suggested what Andrew had assumed on my first day, but Andrew denied it, "My parents told me Persephone's not a double agent,"

"Your parents…" The next voice was soft and quiet but I recognized it as Trena's, and I realized through all of it, Trena was starting to speak now. There was a long, straining silence before Andrew said, "What? What is it?"

"It's…" Trena began with a hint of hesitation weaved into her tone. I didn't think hesitation was in Trena's character as she was one to stride in with certainty, her actions and thoughts resolute. Trena as I saw was the sensible one, along with Andrew, out of the seven of them. So when Trena continued, I wondered if she truly believed what her thoughts led her to say.

"It's awfully convenient that she– that Persephone is rather close to the Goode family,"

There was no argument against it, but no agreement either. They were silent. Andrew was silent. Then, after what felt like eternity, there were soft taps of shoes against the marble floor that filled the silence, whoever it was, was walking the opposite direction before they stopped.

"It's nearly eight," was all Andrew had uttered before continuing, his footsteps becoming fainter and farther as he walked away. A moment later the others followed and they were gone, and only then did I realize I had a death grip on my skirt, I slowly released my grip, feeling the creaks of the bones in my finger as they did so, my eyes were glued to the marble floor beneath me, staring at the faint blur of my reflection.

Of course they had every right to question my nature. After all, as Agent Goode had told me before, in this line of business there are some who turn, and given my clandestine story and background, I don't blame them, and I know I shouldn't but that still doesn't stop the feeling of hurt that I felt tight in my chest. They were being cautious, they were doing what their classes taught them, thinking in the mind of a spy, and of a friend.

A friend, in that I'm certain of now, is something I would never come across in their eyes, not unless I tell them everything, but given the circumstances I highly doubt that day will ever come, and I realized my thoughts this morning were only wishful thinking. They didn't know who I was, not the Queen, not the girls. Not Morgan. Not Andrew. The Ace was an alter-ego for the Four Suits, and Persephone Blackburn was a lie to the world.

I finally emerged from the corner and began heading back to my room, when something inside me made me think otherwise. Maybe it was the sinking feeling inside my stomach, or the pain behind my eyes or the headache threatening to pound against my skull, or maybe I just wanted to be alone, so I turned and walked toward the one secret passageway that I knew would give me solitude. My legs didn't slow even when I suddenly felt tired, I continued to walk faster and faster until I broke out into a run, I ran down the stone corridor that nestled between the school courtyard and the lake. I stopped just underneath the stony stair way that spiraled up and opened the secret passageway behind the stairs, climbing through I walked a short distance before opening the door panel that led to the small round room with the piano.

I finally allowed myself to catch my breath as I ambled over to the window seats, sitting down, I leaned my head back against one of the pillars that framed the windows and lulled my head to the side, watching the lake in front of me. I realized, in that moment's peaceful solitude, that I was exhausted, not just physically with the muscles of my body aching from days and days of training and fighting, but also mentally, my mind was tired and emotionally, my heart felt heavy.

I closed my eyes. I was tired, tired of secrets, tired of all this spy stuff that's left me feeling more alone than I have ever felt.

"We are the Four Suits, goodnight everyone!" The four of us chorused at the end and from out of our pockets, as we pulled out large black silks, the lights danced about and the audience 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed at the dancing silk curtains, and while their attention were elsewhere, we disappeared.

I could still hear the loud cheers of the audience even after we've exited the stage, and I could still feel the heat of the spotlight on the bare skin of my arms and legs. I still felt the adrenaline and the excitement of our performance, but soon that dwindled when we made our way back to our rooms and straight toward the small, round table at the side. We all picked up our cards.

"
Solitude after and to death," The four of us spoke out of routine and none of us said another word to the other as we turned and went our separate ways again.

Solitude before the Four, solitude after and to death.

This passed on as a reminder to all of us, we were alone with all our secrets before the Four, and shall continue to be after the Four and taken to our graves. It was a reminder that I would always be alone.

I felt my mind drifting further and further as my breathing slowed and the soft thumps of my heart was the only sound I heard, my hand fell to my side and I felt something brush against my fingers. I opened my eyes again, and reached into the pocket of my skirt, where I pulled out the small, white ball with the black rose itched in black ink. I absentmindedly turned the ball around in my hand, feeling the smooth surface of it as the memory resurfaced.

"Impressive. You're no amateur, are you?"

His voice floated through my mind.

"Spy,"

His smile teased my heart.

"Morning, Blackburn."

His touch haunted my skin.

"She has a name! And her name is Persephone,"

I clutched the ball tightly in my hand, felt my jaw clench as I forced myself to stop. Wanting, right now, was dangerous to the mission. It was dangerous to the Goodes.

"The only reason he could make you feel this way is because you're lonely, and he's the only guy who's giving you any attention," I tell myself out loud.

'But maybe, just maybe…' I thought as I dared to let the tiny flame ignite at the darkest corners of my soul, 'of all lies, the truth of it is because Andrew was Andrew, and you've completely fallen for him.'