The next day, when she got to Valhad, Connie picked up Sierra at the Castle Hotel. Sierra's hair was short now and totally black. She strode up to the car in a red shirt and miniskirt and tall black boots.

"Hey," said Sierra, sliding into the passenger seat. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Hm, I don't think I told you."

"Told me what?"

"I'm pregnant."

"Congratulations!" She reached out and grasped Connie's hand. "How far along?"

"Basically a month."

Sierra caught Connie's eyes, gazing into hers piercingly. "We'll find him. He'll be back in time to feel the baby kick."

"Before that."

"If I have anything to do with it. How's Whit?"

"He's undercover. How have you been doing?"

"I've been darting around in one of my personas. She's a bit frivolous, unassuming—the kind of person who can catch things that fall through the cracks." She patted her fishnet stockings. "This is the adjacent form, the transition from her to me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be caught dead in your car." She flipped the shade down and powdered her nose in the mirror as Connie drove off.

To get to the Zephyrs' house, Connie had to drive down into the valley, then drive up the hill on the other side. In the valley, the afternoon sun glanced off a brilliant winding river, its bed strewn with many-colored rocks. The road drew alongside the river and Connie longed to get out and step into it, pick up some smooth stones... but she had to save that for later.

For when Jason gets back.

She would keep making that list until she saw him again...

As she drove over the bridge, she could see fish beneath it, their silvery sides flashing in the filtered underwater light.

"I found out about Locke's security system," said Sierra.

"Really?"

"It is of course an excellent lead, since Viktor said they knew about his slavery. Locke's records were private, but that posed no challenge, as they didn't have any inordinate encryption." She looked at Connie. "These people—they're so entitled they get sloppy. They think they're immune from prosecution or investigation, so they don't bother with the highest possible security.

"Locke's system is called Brightlock. It's pretty secretive. It'll take some time to break into, but in the meantime, I'm also looking into the systems of the other nobility. Many of them are different companies, and I doubt they're all connected. Not all of the nobility are in on this nefarious scheme... probably. I wouldn't entirely rule any of them out, though."

"At least we know Trysta couldn't be one of them."

"I make it a rule to never trust anyone, especially not someone I just met. Especially not someone who seems particularly helpful."

"What do you mean?"

Sierra held up a finger. "It's rather... interesting, I suppose you could say, that she seemed to show up at the right moment. Then not long later, give us this big break."

Incredulity shot through Connie's heart. "It could all be—for show? None of those trails are real?"

"They seem real. They could very well be real. Doesn't mean they're not a diversion."

"From what?"

"Exactly- from what. I'm not saying to be outright suspicious—that would probably be detrimental. I'm just saying...be careful. Stay guarded. Take what anyone tells you with a grain of salt."

Connie drove up into the hills, feeling disturbed. Sierra's job was to be paranoid. it was probably nothing. Connie couldn't bear the thought of another rug being yanked out from under her.

"Speaking of patterns," said Sierra, "I'm beginning to discern the bare bones of one."

Connie's heart flipped back over into the realm of hope. "Really?"

"I'm teasing out a lot of shadowy threads, many of which may only be ephemeral. But there are too many to be a coincidence. That's one reason why I took Trysta up on her offer. She may be able to reveal more of the threads—one way or another."

"What is the pattern?"

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you. It's very tenuous at the moment... I've still got a lot of noise to filter out before I can even form a real hypothesis... But it's not like it's actual intel. It seems like there's a... certain center of gravity. Where all the threads originate."

"Where?"

Sierra shrugged. "Somewhere near Valhad. It could be in the city; it could be in one of the villages nearby. Could be underground. But I'm almost certain there is a center."

"So... everything's connected to it? All of the clues and the trafficking places we've found so far?"

"What I've seen here is a strong hint. A magnetic force, drawing everything to it. Hard to ignore, now that I think about it. Funny to think others can't see the imprint... but then, I'm no ordinary agent. I see things others don't see. It's the nobility I've been investigating. The ones I think have ties to human trafficking. And the tips Demir has been giving me. It's easier to see here in Valhad. Little clusters of activity, like bright nodes on a network. The illegal, underhanded kind, which I tend to see easily."

"You've found some traffickers?"

"Some nobility that may either be facilitators or buyers. The funny thing is, there are two, maybe three overlays. Hierarchies of people who may be involved. The general dissipated ranks of the nobility; some elite who are seemingly distant from it but who do have shadowy connections; and hints of another force of some sort, which moves and shakes things behind the scenes... these are the hardest to get to, and the ones I must get to at all costs."

The GPS ordered Connie to turn left, but directions were hardly needed. A long driveway swept off the main road, leading to a magnificent mansion. Tall pines lined the driveway; closer to the house stood meticulously clipped cedars. The sun gilded white walls of stucco roofed with red tiles. A strangely modern, Italian-looking house transplanted into the Muldavian countryside.

Connie parked the car along the edge of the vast driveway lined with flowers and conical cedars. She wasn't sure if this was the place to park; there were no other cars visible. Perhaps they're not home, she thought, but then she saw the lights in the window. Hints of silhouettes moved inside.

As she stepped out, a warm wind blew her hair in front of her face. As she swept it away, she glimpsed the spectacular view. Beyond the driveway, the house looked out onto the vast valley and the city glinted in the distance. Further away she could see the hint of the castle-a golden dot on the edge of the reddish cliff. Beyond it the mountains rose in purplish mystery, hazy peaks reaching toward the pale blue skies.

Sierra stepped out, boots crunching on the gravel. She swept short bangs out of her eyes. "Quite a view." There was a sardonic hint in her tone. "They certainly don't lack for much..."

"Hello!" said a welcoming voice behind her.

Trysta stood in the doorway. Connie walked up to the front steps and Trysta held out her arms and embraced her.

She smelled of saffron perfume and her golden hair tickled Connie's cheek. She grasped Connie's shoulders, blue eyes piercing. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good."

Sierra held out both hands and Trysta took them, then hugged her lightly and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you could make it," said Trysta softly.

"Me too," said Sierra. "Thanks for the invite. I'm looking forward to this sumptuous dinner you promised."

"You won't be disappointed." Trysta flashed a smile and beckoned them inside.

The door opened to a grand foyer with a high ceiling, white walls lined with rich dark wood. The floors were marble and there was a marble statue beside the winding staircase, which had a dark wooden railing, the marble stairs flecked with gold.

The hallway was edged with luscious plants and the walls were lined with painted portraits of what Connie assumed were Trysta's ancestors.

Trysta described them as they passed. "This is great grandma Milena." She indicated a stately woman, hands crossed in her lap. Beside her was a distinguished gentleman with graying hair. "And here's Grandma Loren and Grandpa Kurt." It was a large portrait of a woman in an elegant white, gold-flecked dress and a man behind her in a suit, one hand on her shoulder. He was gazing at her while the woman gazed at the viewer, a faint smile on her lips. "They were very much in love." Trysta's heels clicked on the marble floor as she stepped forward. "And here's Dad."

Trysta gestured to a large portrait of a man sitting in a golden chair, looking out at the viewer in a rather detached manner, as if he'd rather be elsewhere than sitting for a portrait. "That's Daddy. Always busy. In fact... he might not make it for supper."

"Really?" said Connie.

"We'll see."

"Is this your mom?" Connie gestured to the portrait beside Trysta's father. It was of a young woman with golden-brown hair cascading over her shoulder, wearing a green shimmering dress.

Trysta shook her head, frowning a little. "That's my stepmom."

"So that's who these people are?" said Sierra, gesturing to the opposite wall which bore a whole other set of portraits. "Her relatives?"

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I like my stepmom. It's just that—I don't like the fact Daddy totally erased all traces of Mom after they divorced."

"So your mom's parents aren't here."

Trysta shook her head.

"What about the other set of great grandparents?"

"Oh, you mean my grandpa's parents." Her eyes darkened a little, guarded. "He was a commoner. He took on her name with their marriage. Unusual, I know."

"Zephyr's an unusual name."

Trysta smiled. "It was kind of their compromise. They'd share a new name, a new blended future, when they married." She touched the frame of her grandparents' picture. "They're really the foundation for all that we are. We're both an ancient noble family—and we're new, forward-looking, and we've earned our place rather than merely being entitled."

"That is admirable," said Sierra.

The end of the hallway widened out into a vast space, stairs leading to a sunken floor, a grand piano the centerpiece of the room. Beyond it was a screened patio looking out onto a garden with a pool. Vague shapes moved beyond it.

"Those will be my half-siblings," said Trysta, descending the stairs. Connie followed her and Sierra, taking in the beautiful place, tastefully decorated, filled with plants and light.

"Dad bought this house after the fall of the communist regime," said Trysta. "I was just a little kid. I barely remember the old house. Dad was celebrating the fact his business was booming almost right out of the gate, no more suppressions of business. We've been an unstoppable force ever since."

"Where was your other house?" said Connie.

"In Rakima. That's where everything was in the old days. But now after logistics improved, we've been able to expand from here... Sorry. I don't want to talk shop. It's just that it consumes a lot of my life."

"You'd rather it not?" said Sierra.

Trysta stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked at her earnestly. "It's my duty. I'm bound to my family—I'll support them, I'll protect them, no matter what. I won't deny I have an independent streak. I've been able to leverage into the part of the business I like most—media outreach. It's giving me a solid foundation, and I don't mind staying here for the time being. Eventually though... perhaps my own business... perhaps a political career."

"Politics?" Sierra raised an eyebrow.

"I can't deny I'm ambitious. But that comes hand in hand with loyalty to my country—as an extension of my family."

Sierra sighed. "I can't pretend that's easy for me to understand. I've been basically a woman without a country. Nominally America because that's where I'm often based, but..." Regret flitted through her eyes. "I... don't remember having a family either. Except..." She looked out into the garden, where the children were playing. Then she looked at Connie. "The Whittakers have become my...honorary family. That's why... it's so devastating what has happened. Pain comes with attachment." Her lips tilted wryly.

"Speaking of which..." said Trysta. "That brings us to why you're here. I...didn't want to say much over the phone because of how sensitive this is. My fellow nobility have a lot of resources, and they can be ruthless when they want to be. Even if they're not connected to the criminal underworld. This is really the most secure place to discuss things."

"What have you found?"

Trysta stepped over to the grand piano, rested her hand on the glossy white surface. "It... isn't especially concrete. I know we'd meet when we had more concrete details, but... it's hard to get info on them. Especially when—I've realized—it really isn't likely for me to be able to break into their ranks."

"Why not?"

Trysta smiled. "I'm not like them. I never will be. I may be able to prevaricate for my job, but I'm not that good of an actor. Not enough to actually—be one of them. I can't descend into that world. I know enough of it—and it sickens me."

"What world?" said Connie.

Trysta looked at her. "It's an open secret. The types of things a lot of nobility get up to. The things they feel they're entitled to. Very close to what we're already looking for—and some of it crosses the line. I know they visit brothels and don't check that the poor people trapped there are underage or enslaved. They bring them to their homes and...do vicious things to them. What would get prosecuted if they were not elite." Sorrow crossed her face. It echoed Connie's own sorrow and she knew that this could not be faked. That gave her relief that Sierra's worst suspicions were unfounded.

"Those are the types of circles I'd have to run in if I wanted to find things out quickly. For one thing, they'd never believe I'd descend to their level that fast. For another thing—I'd never be able to do the things that would 'prove' I was one of them. They'd be suspicious of me and throw me out. Now if-" Her eyes sparked as if a thought had occurred to her, but she didn't continue it. "So- that's the dilemma I'm in. I need to get close to them, but I can only ask questions of those on the periphery. Hoping some of them will give me some clues. It's so frustrating to be so close, but so far away."

"Maybe I could help," said Sierra.

"Really?"

"My current persona's gone as far as it can go. It's time for another approach. I was thinking about this anyway, and if you can give me the names of the people you're suspicious of-"

"So you'd go undercover?"

"Believe it or not, I can masquerade as one of them. I've got some tricks that I can use to seem like them but avoid participating in the worst."

"I'd like to know what they are."

"You'd never be able to pull them off. You've got to immerse in the part, believe in it. It dims a part of your soul... but a part of your soul is worth it to rescue the suffering." Sierra's eyes blazed with a steady fierce focus. "Besides, it's best that you not know any of the details."

Trysta nodded. She looked out at the garden for a moment. "So... it'll be about half an hour until supper. Would you like some drinks, some appetizers, while we discuss things?"

"Sure," said Connie.

"What do you have?" said Sierra.

"Wine- I could break out the good stuff. Champagne... brandy... basically whatever you could want."

"Do you have juice?" said Connie.

"Yes, we have juice. Pomegranate, orange, tropical, cranberry, grapefruit-"

"I'll take pomegranate." For some reason she felt like that. She'd heard it was very healthy.

"Good choice." Trysta texted a message and in a moment a maid in a purple uniform curtseyed and set the tray on the coffee table in the living room.

Connie took the glass of juice and sat down in the white leather chair while Trysta and Sierra sat in the loveseat facing the garden. There were also artichoke hors d'oeuvres and mini strawberry tarts on the tray along with a few pieces of dark chocolate. Connie took a few of them. They melted in her mouth.

"So," said Trysta. "You said you might be pregnant. Did you find out-?"

Connie nodded. She sipped some of the pomegranate juice. "I'm a little over a month along."

"Congratulations! How is the baby doing?"

"Okay, I think. It's too early to do an ultrasound."

"I'm not really familiar with babies. Never close to being pregnant myself."

"Would you ever like to have children?" said Sierra, sipping her strawberry wine.

Trysta shrugged. "It's almost like I have children now. My youngest sister is seven. They keep me busy." She smiled. "I really have no time for kids. Eventually... when I find the right person... but my family keeps my hands full. Sometimes I think I'm the parent to all of them..." She grimaced slightly and took a sip of her champagne. Then she looked at Sierra. "What about you? Do you want kids, a family of your own?"

"I...never had a life conducive to a family. With all I've seen, I didn't really want to bring more children into the world. But now that I've tasted a more settled life... I can see the appeal. Still—I can't see myself giving up my job, especially now that it's become a calling."

"You mean rescuing trafficked people?"

Sierra nodded. "I avoided it before, because of my...past. But now I have to do what's necessary and crush the evil people that tear apart innocent kids."

"So... I suppose I'd better give you the names." She pursed her lips. "I... do have this weird sense of duty. As if I'm betraying my own kind. But they're not my own kind—they're parasites we're better off without. And so without further ado..." Trysta listed several names and Connie took note of them.

Not that she could do much. If Trysta couldn't break through to their inner world of corruption, then Connie definitely couldn't. Perhaps there was some minor detail she could discover... something she could somehow see but the others couldn't... but at the moment she couldn't imagine what that could be.

At least I was the conduit between Sierra and Trysta. Making these connections—it is a vital role. I just wish I could be more active... However, she wasn't about to risk her baby so it was a bit silly to regret something she wouldn't do anyway.

But she longed to help find Jason... to be the one to rescue him from darkness... even though the others were infinitely more qualified.

"I do have another sort of lead," said Trysta. "I'm not sure if it'll go anywhere. But there will be a fall ball soon."

"A ball?" said Sierra.

"It's called the Autumn Extravaganza, but I call it the Fall Ball. It's held on the equinox. A lot of nobility and other elite will be there. Including some of the people I've mentioned. I have it on good authority there will be some rather wild afterparties as well. I could take you to it, introduce you... get in on the edge of the wildness, as close as I can get. You'd have to do the rest—go where I couldn't."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Really?"

"My persona would have to be sufficiently removed from my own they wouldn't connect us... in case a few have seen us together. There aren't that many Asians around here, I've noticed."

"Sorry about that."

Sierra laughed. "I'm good at compensating—keeping my disguises sacrosanct. I'll dive in head-first and leave you on the unsullied shore." She caught Trysta's gaze. "I'm also good at getting out of seemingly impossible situations. So it would be wise not to try to cage me at all."

Trysta looked at her as if trying to discern what exactly she meant, then she nibbled on a hors d'oeuvres.

A rush of successive figures streamed onto the porch then the patio door opened and three kids spilled into the living space- a tall boy who looked about twelve, a slim, wiry girl who looked almost the same age, and a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers. They all had one thing in common: they had hair a bright shade of wheat-gold, a shade lighter than Trysta's, with light eyebrows as well.

Trysta set down her glass and Connie and Sierra followed her over to them.

"This is Zen," said Trysta, gesturing to the older boy.

He said hi solemnly.

"This is Umbra." Trysta indicated the girl, who flashed a smile and waved.

"And this-" Trysta crouched down. "This is Zenith." She swung the girl up and held her. Zenith peered out from behind the flowers. Trysta kissed her temple and she giggled. Then she set her sister down as a woman stepped inside, carrying a tablet. She was tall and elegant; Connie recognized her from her portrait in the hallway.

She held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Uma."

"Nice to meet you," said Connie. Uma's hand was gentle but firm.

Trysta's stepmom led them to the dining room to the left of the stairs, passing a giant honeysuckle plant and a tropical tree with a large red blossom. Uma sat at the end nearest the porch; at the furthest end, closer to the door to the foyer, was a large chair, carved more elaborately than the others. Connie guessed it was Mr. Zephyr's.

The kids all settled in at their places; Uma gestured to the other side and Connie sat beside her. "I apologize for my husband's absence; he often works late."

"That's okay."

"My other sons should be here, though. They don't have that excuse."

"Just Umber," said Trysta. "I can go get him."

"Text him. He knows it's suppertime."

Trysta picked up her phone.

"You said sons?" said Sierra. "There are several more?"

"I know, we have a big family." Uma smiled. "My oldest isn't actually mine. He's my stepson. Trysta's brother. And he's...ill, so he won't be joining us."

"What happened?" said Connie.

Uma looked down. "He...he has appendicitis." Her voice was faint, as if it were a shameful thing.

"Oh, no! I hope he feels better soon."

"He had to go to the doctor," said Zen on the other side of the table. "He got really sick while he was away. They had to do an operation." She pressed her hand to her stomach, grimacing.

"I hope I never get appendicitis," said little Zenith. "He has to spend all day upstairs."

"I had that when I was a kid," said Connie. "It's awful. But if he gets a lot of rest, he'll get better soon."

"I hope so!"

Just as the first course, a bean salad, was being served, the older boy appeared in the doorway with a book in his hand.

Uma raised an eyebrow. "No books at the table. We have guests."

"Oh." The boy looked at Connie and Sierra as if surprised at their presence. He set the book down on one of the mini tables along the wall. Then he sat down beside his brother Zen.

"This is Umber," said Trysta.

"Hi," said the boy.

"I know it's confusing—Umber and Umbra. But I guess we wanted to stick with the end of the alphabet theme."

"I just like the names," said Uma.

"They're beautiful," said Connie.

"Thank you."

Trysta looked at her stepmom. "I give you a hard time sometimes, but you've done a good job with them."

Uma inclined her head graciously.

"Umber loves to study, as you can tell." Trysta looked at Connie and Sierra. "At this rate, he'll be in college next year."

"I don't know about that," said Umber, blushing.

"Well, whatever you choose, we're really proud of you. And Zen's really good at soccer. And math. Umbra's amazing at gymnastics."

Umbra reached across the table and gave Trysta a high five, to her mom's disapproving frown.

"And little Zenith here... she's such a good reader and speller! She writes poems. You should hear some of them. They're really good."

"Sounds like you have an amazing family."

"That they are," said Uma, beaming, sharing a smile with her stepdaughter.

As the main course was served—roast beef and baby potatoes of all colors, along with biscuits—the door opened and cool air rushed in. Footsteps trudged through the hallway, stopped, then tromped forward. A rather weary form appeared. Mr. Zephyr. He introduced himself as Zavier and sat down at the head of the table. Despite his weariness, he welcomed them heartily to their family home. He didn't ask what exactly they were doing there; Trysta must've explained something to them before they arrived.

Trysta, however, did tell them she was planning to attend the Fall Ball. Zen snickered at that.

"We haven't RSVP'd to that," said Zavier. "I thought we weren't going this years, seeing as your brother..."

"We don't need him to be able to go. I want to have some fun."

Zavier raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "I suppose that would be good for you. After how hard you've been working lately."

"Thanks, Dad. Are you coming?"

He shook his head. "No, I think I have something more pressing to attend to that night." He set his jaw then stabbed a purple potato.

Trysta sent an apologetic look to Connie and Sierra.

"Can I come?" said Umbra.

"You're too young," said Trysta.

"Why can't I ever do anything fun?"

"You have fun all day. Besides, you have to wait until you're twenty-one."

"But that's old!"

"Am I old?"

Umbra thought for a moment, then nodded, sweeping back a strand of wheat-blond hair.

Trysta chuckled. "At least I'm not the oldest."

"Good thing," said Zavier almost under his breath.

"My oldest brother just had his birthday," said Zenith. "He turned twenty-seven. But he fell down the stairs at his birthday party! Then he got appendicitis." She shook her head. "It's just not fair."

Zavier peered at her over his reading glasses. "He was reckless—he paid for it."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" said Uma.

"He's my son and I've known him all his life. I know his weaknesses."

"But we don't..." Her voice was strained, jaw tense. "We don't have to discuss this now."

He nodded tersely and looked back down at his cell phone.

The servants cleared the dishes away and served banana cream pie—several of the kids' favorite, from the chorus of cheers. Umbra jumped up from her chair with excitement, and Uma reprimanded her with a threat of no dessert. She sank to her seat sulkily.

Connie was full, but she couldn't pass up the delicious-looking pie. Just as she was about to take a bite, a figure appeared in the doorway behind Zavier, who was so absorbed in his phone he didn't notice.

He had a shock of golden hair the same shade as Trysta's. His eye had a fading bruise and there was a fading cut on his nose. "Oh, hey, it is a party! Guests!"

He waved at Connie and Sierra.

"Hey, Zar!" said Umbra and Zenith. Umber looked up from the book he'd apparently snatched from the ledge. Zen stood and gave him a hug as he sat down beside Trysta.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed," said Zavier sternly.

"I wanted dessert."

"We were going to have it brought up to you."

"They were taking too long! Besides, you guys got it already." He looked at Sierra and Connie, held out his hand. Sierra, nearer to him, took it.

"I'm Zar Zephyr. Nice to meet you." He flashed a charming grin.

"Nice to meet you too," said Sierra, amusement in her voice.

Zar dug into his pie and stuffed the triangle end into his mouth. "Ah...heavenly."

"You're supposed to be in bed," said Trysta. "Two more weeks."

"It's boring! Besides, I can barely feel it with all these drugs." He smiled beatifically.

"That's the problem. You don't know what damage it's doing. It's jarring your injury and you don't even realize it."

"Worth it to get some of this pie. And meet these charming ladies. Are they going to the party too?"

"What party."

"The ball of course. I could overhear you from on top of the stairs."

"You always did have a bad habit of eavesdropping. No, they're not going to the party."

"That's too bad. I'd like to see them there."

"You're not going, either."

"Why not?"

"You're in no shape to."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Actually, I can."

"I'm the oldest."

"You've forfeited that right. So I'm taking over—and if I have to, I'm binding you to the bed so you can't move."

"I don't think we have to go to that extreme," said Zavier laconically.

"Do you want another repeat of this?" She gestured vaguely to Zar's face.

Zavier eyed her, his eyes shaded. He sat back, sighing. "I suppose not." He looked at Zar. "You're sick. No way are you going to the ball. Even if you weren't sick, I'd forbid it after the stunts you pulled."

"What did he do?" said Zen earnestly, looking concerned. "I thought it was an accident."

"The accident was as a result of his negligence." Zavier looked sternly at Zen. "I hope you don't follow in his footsteps. I've raised all of you to be good upstanding citizens... too late for some."

"Is it really too late?" said Uma quietly.

"We'll have to see, but after certain events, I'm not holding out much hope."

"Daddy, it's not fair. Why are you treating me like this?"

"Because you deserve it. As far as I'm concerned, this is karma. You've endangered this family and our reputation. You still haven't gotten it through your head that what you do affects us all."

"I'll be good from now on. I promise."

"I've heard that before. I'm putting my foot down. No parties of any kind for six months."

"Six months!"

"I think that's reasonable. You and parties... tend to be an explosive mixture." He looked as if he'd eaten something bitter. "Prove yourself—that you can act normally—then I'll put you on probation instead of mandatory house-arrest. Prove you can actually be a productive member of this family." He spread out his arm. "You have all your younger siblings as examples. Be an example to them rather than trying to drag them down."

"Sorry, Daddy. I'll do better." His face was contrite.

Zavier looked at him dubiously then went back to his phone.

After dessert, they headed out to the main room. Trysta helped Zar onto the couch and Umber sat down at the piano and played a haunting sonata. The music reverberated through the vast space; it was almost like being at a concert. Connie congratulated him after he was finished, and he blushed and bowed.

Afterwards they went out into the garden and Umbra showed them an elaborate gymnastics routine. From her seat by the pool, Connie cheered her on. Then Zenith stood at the edge of the pool and recited her poem, reserved at first, then adding little dramatic gestures. Afterwards she came up to Connie and gave her a hug.

As the sun sank past the mountains, the bugs came out, so they headed back inside and sat on the porch. The kids stayed outside, apparently not bothered enough by the mosquitoes to go inside.

"If I can't go to the party, I'll take the party to me," said Zar, trying to snatch a glass of wine, but Trysta kept it from him.

"Drinking doesn't mix well with your meds."

"Ah! What pleasures are left to me!" He mock-swooned against the chair. Then his hand leapt to his stomach.

"Hurts a lot, hm?" said Sierra behind him, a drink in her hand. She'd been pacing, as if she wasn't thrilled at staying in one place for too long.

"Yeah it hurts. I think I need another dose..."

"Not yet," said Zavier.

"But dad!"

"All good things come to those who wait." He smiled.

Despite his apparent pain, Zar got to his feet, still clutching his stomach. "Not a party without dancing." He held out his hand to Connie. "Would you like to dance?" HIs blue eyes pierced hers. Shadows of pain in their depths.

She shook her head. "I'm not really in the mood to dance..."

"I'll take you up on that," said Sierra. And she took Zar's hand, and they danced slowly around the porch, Sierra smiling as she held him close. When it got to the point she was almost holding him up, she let him sink into the wicker chair beside his stepmom.

"Well- I suppose," said Sierra. "We'd better not impose on your hopsitality any longer."

"It's not imposing," said Uma. "We've enjoyed having you here."

"And we've enjoyed it. But—we have things to do tomorrow."

"Of course," said Zavier, rising. He ushered them out to the foyer then took his leave up to his upstairs office.

Trysta stepped outside with them into the early dusk. She looked a little sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"About what?" said Connie.

"We... well. Some of us don't know how to keep family drama to ourselves..."

"That's okay."

"And Zar!" She swept a dramatic hand across her forehead.

"He wasn't too bad," said Sierra, smirking. "I know his type."

Trysta nodded, lips pursed. "I... was hoping he'd stay in bed. But of course he never does what he's told. More than anyone else, I think he really is a lost cause. But..." She sighed. "He's still family."

"It was a nice dance."

Trysta laughed. "Thank you for humoring him."

"No problem. Thank you for inviting us."

"I'm so glad you're able to help out."

"That's what I'm here for. Hopefully this will be the final nail in the coffin. We're getting closer, I can feel it." She had such determination and hope in her eyes it was contagious.

We're finally getting somewhere! A thrill raced over her skin.

Jason, I'm coming.

Or at least... the others are coming. And they'll bring you back to me.

They waved goodbye to Trysta, and Sierra drove down into the valley as the last of the golden sunlight faded from the castle, drowning it in shadow.