Guess I'm off to Charmbridge. Won't be able to text no more.

I'm glad. Srsly. Dean Grimm may be a B but I think she'll try to protect you.

Whos protecting u?

My new best friend. And you know who.

Not very reassuring

I'll be fine. Just keep your head down ok? I want everyone in the AC to stay safe.

Alex…no offense but u don't have a say in what we do. Get over ur savior complex.

…

Like u think we're just a bunch of NPCs

I do not

u r such a dork

Claudia called Alexandra from Paris, her voice tinged with panic.

"Lucilla and Drucilla disappeared off the plane!"

Alexandra squeezed the phone in her hand. "What do you mean disappeared?"

"Disappeared. Out of their seats. They vanished. We only found out after speaking to Valeria—Alex, there's something called a Ban on the Confederation."

Alexandra learned, by searching the Internet, that this had happened to others, including a twelve-year-old who'd disappeared off a flight to Australia and reappeared at the departure gate in Los Angeles.

The girl's name wasn't reported, and Alexandra couldn't find out what had happened to her. But she was sure the girl was a witch. Somehow, other Wizarding governments had forbidden Confederation citizens from leaving the country, and used magic that returned anyone trying to leave.

But Lucilla and Drucilla had simply disappeared.

Alexandra couldn't send an owl, and she wouldn't risk Charlie. So she stood before her mirror in her bedroom, composing a verse to try to reach her sisters.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Let my sisters hear my call.
Where did Dru and Lucy go?
If they're safe or not, please show.
You shouldn't vanish without a trace,
So if you hear me, show your face."

There was a long silence. Then the mirror said, "Your meter's off, dear."

Alexandra clenched her fists. "Will composing a better rhyme work?"

The mirror didn't answer.

"Father!" Alexandra shouted at the mirror, trying to call him with the force of her will, but either he didn't hear her, the mirror was being obstinate, or his will was greater. All she saw was her own angry face looking back at her.

She walked downstairs, and looked around at the house she still thought of as the one she'd grown up in, even though it had been rebuilt after the fire that burned it down when she was eleven. It felt empty.

Archie and Claudia had made a list of things for her to pack and ship to them, and so far, all Alexandra had done was pull stuff out of closets and dressers and make piles on the bed and the floor. Then she'd abandoned the task for a few days, feeling overwhelmed by the reality that she was alone in this house, that Claudia and Archie weren't coming back. At least not until after the war was over.

Dirty dishes were beginning to fill the sink. Alexandra had been buying bread for sandwiches, frozen meals, and take-out. She had never really learned to do much cooking, much to the chagrin of Granny Mahnkey, who had tried, with only limited success, to impart some domestic skills on Alexandra during her stay in the Ozarks the previous winter. She waved her wand and scoured the dishes clean, and then set them all back in the cupboards with another wave of her wand. She Vanished the takeout containers. She had learned that much, at least.

Claudia had reminded her once again, before they got off the phone, that she couldn't live here by herself forever. And yet, where else should she go?

She wanted to talk to someone. Her friends were all going to Charmbridge, her sisters were out of reach, her father was unavailable, and Brian… needed to stay out of the affairs of wizards.

She walked across the street and knocked on Mrs. Wilborough's door.

The old woman answered after letting Alexandra stand on her porch for several minutes. "Well, you haven't been arrested yet or captured by the Wizard Justice Department. I'm impressed."

"Are you really?" Alexandra was already regretting coming over. It wasn't as if she were expecting sympathy, but being able to talk about the wizard war with an adult would have been nice. But the old woman's acerbic remarks got old fast.

"Hmm." Mrs. Wilborough studied Alexandra's face, then shrugged and stepped aside to let her enter.

"Well, would you like some tea, or soda?" she asked, once Alexandra was inside. "I just finished baking some bread."

The smell of fresh bread was pleasant. Mrs. Wilborough's cat meowed and rubbed against Alexandra's legs. She reached down and pet it.

"Thank you," she said, feeling more than she wanted to admit.

They sat at Mrs. Wilborough's spartan dining table draped with a vinyl checkered tablecloth. All of Mrs. Wilborough's tableware looked like it was from the 70s. Alexandra had thought everything in her neighbor's house was really old when Mrs. Wilborough babysat her as a child, and it still looked really old.

"So, what brings you here?" Mrs. Wilborough asked, after offering her a slice of bread with butter and jam and a can of soda. "I thought you're off waging war with your father."

"My father calls me up when he needs me, but so far he doesn't include me in his planning." Alexandra buttered her bread. "Has he really never told you anything or asked for your opinion, just told you to move here and watch us?"

"For the most part. I'm not just being bitter when I say there isn't much a Squib can do to help. I watch, report, and now and then I've been able to do a little bit of detective and surveillance work for your father, but yes, mostly I sat here and waited for him to cry havoc."

"Cry havoc?"

Mrs. Wilborough sighed at Alexandra's blank expression. "I forget, you've had a wizarding education since age eleven. I suppose they don't include Shakespeare in their curriculum."

"I know who Shakespeare is."

"Ever read any of his plays? Or see one?"

Alexandra said nothing.

"Have you ever thought about how separate your world is?" Mrs. Wilborough asked.

"Yes, actually, I've thought about that a lot," Alexandra said. "Maybe we'll change that, once we've ended the Deathly Regiment."

"We? My, my. Have you shared these plans with your father? I thought you said he isn't including you in his planning?"

Alexandra drank from the soda can to hide her reaction. Mrs. Wilborough was still sharp and cynical, and had a habit of going right to whatever was preying on Alexandra's mind.

"I don't know what our endgame is," Alexandra admitted finally. "He says Muggles are just going to have to deal with all the magical forces being unleashed. I've seen on the Internet that there are people with a bunch of crazy ideas. If the Confederation falls, we'll need, like, a new government, right? Or maybe the American wizarding world can join the Muggle world."

"You're asking the wrong person. Abraham Thorn promised to bring down the Confederation, and that was good enough for me."

"Really? You never cared how he'd do that or what it would mean? What if it just means wizards running around doing whatever they want to Muggles, with no Auror Authority or Special Inquisition to stop them?"

"Oh, suddenly the rebel sees a need for authority after all." Mrs. Wilborough shrugged. "What do you want from me, girl? I don't care what brave new world you and your father forge from the ashes, as long as I get to see the old one burn."

Alexandra stared at Mrs. Wilborough, in her frumpy clothes and white hair in curlers, looking like the harmless, crotchety old woman she'd always been.

She might be harmless, but only because she had no power. Mrs. Wilborough, Alexandra realized, was mean, and angry, and probably had reasons as good as Claudia's to hate the wizarding world. And she wasn't going to share them with Alexandra, or be a sounding board for her worries about the war and its aftermath.

"Has your clock shown any of us in peril lately?" Alexandra asked.

"Your father, quite often. You, you seem to be safe enough here in Larkin Mills."

Alexandra stood up. "Thanks for the food, Mrs. Wilborough."

"You seem disappointed. You were hoping I had more insight. Listen, dear, your father has been decent to me, but it never once occurred to him to ask for my advice."

"Did you want to give him advice? Did you ever try to make him listen to you?"

"How has that worked for you?"

Alexandra frowned. "Maybe I need to try harder."

Mrs. Wilborough laughed with little humor. "Good luck with that."

Alexandra waited until the evening, then walked to Old Larkin Pond. She found a couple of teenagers there, smoking and throwing soda bottles into the pond. They both ran away when they saw her, even before she cast a Vanishing Spell on the bottles.

Standing at the edge of the pond, she made another attempt at a Scrying Spell, and then at summoning her father. Neither worked.

"Well, then," she said, raising her arm to let Charlie land on her wrist. "Time for us to go on a little trip, Charlie."

"Fly, fly," said Charlie.

"Not this time, Charlie." She unbuttoned the top of her shirt and pulled it down from her shoulder. Charlie cawed glumly and became a raven tattoo. Alexandra buttoned her shirt back up and faced east.

It took her mere minutes to reach New England with seven-league steps. She reached the river that separated her twin sisters' house from a small Muggle city, and walked through reeds and tall river grass in the summer evening. Charlie would be no help at night, so she had to rely on her own senses. While the Office of Special Inquisitions might know the Whites lived somewhere in the area, their house was protected by a Fidelius Charm. As far as she knew, she was the only one they had shown it to, before bringing Claudia and Archie there.

When she saw its seven gables take shape in the mist, she began casting Revealing Spells and other charms. The twins had sealed the house thoroughly. It was dark and uninviting. There were spells on it to repel intruders, as if it needed them. Alexandra considered trying to break through them, then cast a Patronus Charm instead. It wasn't easy, in the gloomy riparian evening with doubts about her sisters' fates foremost in her mind, but Alexandra had some good memories here too. She sent her Patronus into the house, to plead with Lucilla or Drucilla to come out and let her know they were alive.

Her Patronus returned to her. The house remained dark and silent. No one emerged.

Lucy, Dru, where are you?

Alexandra wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and ran back to Larkin Mills.

She heard nothing from Lucilla or Drucilla, nor from her father. She was consumed with anger and anxiety. She avoided Brian and spent much of her time at the Pruett School, practicing Scrying and Location Charms when not performing wand drills that further scarred the interior of the building. Hela cowered from her.

Two days after her conversation with Mrs. Wilborough, Alexandra found her father waiting for her on her morning visit to the school. Hela skulked in the shadows, her expression a mixture of fear and relief. Abraham Thorn didn't seem to notice Hela's demeanor. He fixed a disapproving gaze on Alexandra and said, "You have been trying to summon me."

"And you haven't been answering," Alexandra said.

"Do not use magic to get my attention as if I were carrying one of your telephones."

"Well then maybe you should give me another locket or something. Because it seems to me that having a phone would be a good idea, actually."

Her father scowled. Hela blanched, but Alexandra didn't look away. "I assume you know Lucilla and Drucilla have disappeared," she said.

He nodded. "The Ban. The International Confederation of Wizards has imposed sanctions on the Confederation, but somehow they acquired a copy of the Census and used that to circumscribe travel. The Governor-General has been trying to keep it a secret until now."

"And you didn't know?"

"None of us have attempted to leave the country in the last month. This is actually good news for us—the pressure on the Confederation from the rest of the wizarding world is further eroding their support, especially among those who have family overseas."

"It's not good news for Lucilla and Drucilla!" Alexandra shouted.

He held up a hand. "Stop shouting." His tone stilled her tongue.

"They may have simply gone into hiding when they realized what had happened," he went on.

"And they couldn't find a way to contact you, or me? You don't believe that."

His lips pressed together. "No, I don't," he admitted, and Alexandra's heart sank. Against all reason, she'd wanted to believe perhaps Lucy and Dru were on the run. "The Ban has resulted in Muggles witnessing people disappearing off of airplanes and sea vessels, but I suspect the Special Inquisition has been taking advantage of these balked flight attempts to capture wizards who weren't expecting to find themselves returned back to their starting point."

"Why wasn't Claudia Banned?" Alexandra asked. "Isn't she on the Census?"

"As Claudia Carolina Thorn."

"The Census doesn't get updated when people change their names?"

"Often not for…" He didn't finish the sentence.

Alexandra did. "Squibs." Behind her father, she saw Hela frowning, but he remained impassive.

"I… went to Lucy and Dru's house," she said. This was a sensitive subject. Even their father had never been shown the house's location. The twins wanted it that way.

He raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"It's empty. At least, I'm pretty sure it's empty. If they're hiding there, they were hiding from me too."

"I am sure they were not."

"What if…" Alexandra swallowed. "What if someone were… forced… to reveal a secret hidden by a Fidelius Charm?"

Her father's countenance was grim, but his voice was gentle. "That won't work, Alexandra. The protection of the Fidelius Charm is absolute. The secret can only be revealed freely. Torture, Imperius, anything that compels the mind will prevent the secret from being divulged."

Alexandra took a deep breath. "Then where are they?"

"I don't know."

"You have spies and double-agents throughout the Confederation, don't you? Nobody has any idea?"

"I have of course made finding Lucilla and Drucilla's whereabouts a high priority. We will find them."

"And then we'll rescue them."

He stepped closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I will spare no effort. And if they are harmed, I will punish those responsible in a way their descendants will remember for generations."

"I don't want vengeance," Alexandra said. "I want them back."

"This is a war, Alexandra. We will do what we can, and we will also do what we must." He turned away, leaving Alexandra momentarily engulfed in the swirling folds of his cape. He looked at Hela, who straightened up, with an effort. She had almost stopped limping after her duel with Alexandra. "What ails you, Hela?" he demanded.

"N-nothing, sir," Hela said.

He seemed to consider this a moment. Then he said, "You and Alexandra will be traveling."

"We will?" Alexandra said. "Where?"

"Come, both of you." He was still studying the other girl thoughtfully. "We are going to talk about politics."

"Looks like an east-west thing," Alexandra said.

Her father had projected a magical map of the Confederation on one wall of the downstairs classroom, and colored Territories that remained loyal to the Confederation in blue, secessionist in red, and his assessment of the sentiments of the others in various in-between shades. Only Deseret, Columbia, and Yukon had openly broken away from the Confederation, but most of the western Territories were orange and North California, Alta California, and Baja were red-orange. New Amsterdam, Appalachia, Roanoke, Acadia, and Florida were all deep blue. New England stood out like a purple bruise. Central Territory was also deep purple, almost evenly split between red and blue.

"Yes," Abraham Thorn said. "Hucksteen's support is strongest in the east, except the stubborn Yankees, who have always had a moralistic, judgmental temperament. He is now doing his best to keep the more restive regions under control."

"The Kings are surrounded by Confederation loyalists," Alexandra said.

"They are protected."

"Protected how?"

"By me."

"Like Lucilla and Drucilla were protected?"

"Alexandra." Alexandra sensed her father's anger simmering beneath his lowered brows, his steely tone. "We will find them. I am never not thinking about my daughters. Focus on what you can do now."

Alexandra turned away, to find Hela regarding her and her father with an intense, unreadable expression. Alexandra stared at her, and the other girl looked away.

"So what I am supposed to do?" Alexandra asked.

"It is time for you to become a public face," her father said. "The symbol that I cannot."

"Me, a symbol?" Alexandra turned her attention back to him.

"Yes," he said, very seriously. "You're the witch who fought a dragon to save a city full of Muggles, the witch who came back from the Lands Beyond, the witch who revealed the Deathly Regiment. You appeared on Muggle television sets and the Worldwide Wizard Wireless. Muggles may not know your name, but the wizarding world does."

"I'm an Enemy of the Confederation now, like you."

"Indeed. But now that the Confederation has been revealed as rotten and corrupt, that is no longer such a great stigma. My reputation is darkened by years of lies and slander. While more and more people are questioning whether I was right all along—" He smiled ironically. "The average wizard is still hesitant to be seen on the same side as the Thorn Circle, which has been associated with Dark magic and terrorism thanks to the Confederation's propaganda."

"Maybe it's also thanks to, you know, Dark magic and terrorism?" Alexandra should have held her tongue, but she was still angry and worried about Lucilla and Drucilla and her other sisters, all of them paying the price for her father's reputation.

He gave her another one of his measured looks that made her regret being so insolent, then said, "I make no apologies, but yes, I must live with the consequences of my actions." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You, on the other hand, have a clean reputation."

Alexandra almost choked. "You're kidding."

His expression was serious.

"I…" Alexandra looked at the map of the Confederation, and thought about what he'd said.

She'd always had a bad reputation. In Larkin Mills, she had not exactly been popular even before she went away to Charmbridge. At Charmbridge, she'd become known as the daughter of the Enemy. Her reputation had preceded her to New Amsterdam, and she'd left one behind in Dinétah. And of course, in the Ozarks, she was Troublesome.

Did it matter now what her former classmates thought of her? The rest of the world didn't care who she'd been at Charmbridge or in Larkin Mills. Yes, she was Troublesome, the daughter of the Enemy, but… a symbol?

"I have many contacts and some influence, even after all these years," her father said. "But while I must stay in the shadows for the time being, you can speak directly to those who have lost faith in the Confederation but still fear me."

"You want me… to become a spokesperson for the Thorn Circle? Am I supposed to go on a publicity tour or something?"

"Something of the sort. There are Territorial Governors and Congressmen, as well as ordinary witches and wizards, who've seen the broadcast from Storm King Mountain but are still unpersuaded. There are Cultures, like Hela's, who have long resisted the Confederation but are reluctant to declare open opposition to it. Their minds have not yet fully embraced the horror of what the Deathly Regiment represents. You, my daughter, have come face to face with that horror, and you have a forceful personality and powers of persuasion you have never properly brought to bear. I want you to speak to the uncommitted, and bring them over."

Alexandra's mouth was open. Of all the tasks her father might have suggested for her, this was never one she would have anticipated. "I'm only sixteen. Who's going to listen to a teenager?"

He smiled. "Don't underestimate yourself."

"And the protection I've had here in Larkin Mills… what happens when I start traveling around the Confederation?"

"You will of course need to be accompanied for your own security. That's one reason Hela is here. You seem to be getting along now."

"Oh yes, we're totally besties."

Her father nodded. He seemed to miss the sarcasm, and Hela's expression. "You're not wrong that you lack experience and political acumen. I could hardly expect you to conduct yourself in these circles and know what to say to your audience without proper counsel."

With a sinking feeling, Alexandra said, "Not Medea?"

Her father sighed. "No, not Medea. When she is not by my side, she has other duties."

Alexandra managed to keep her thoughts about Medea's "duties" to herself, but half-expected to see her when she heard the pop of Apparition in the room. Instead, as she turned, her father said, "Thank you for being so punctual, Archibald. I know you and Alexandra have met."

The younger man, wearing a rumpled brown suit and fedora, gave Alexandra that supercilious smile she'd learned to hate. A camera hung from a strap around his neck, and a pen was tucked behind his ear.

"Hello Miss Quick," said Archibald Mudd, the former reporter for the Confederation News Network. "And Miss Punuk." He nodded to Hela, who just stared silently back at him. He turned back to Alexandra. "Don't tell me you're at a loss for words, Miss Quick? I've really missed your snappy patter."

"You," Alexandra said.

"Tsk," Mr. Mudd said. "I know you can be more articulate than that. We'll work on it."