Otokar pointed at the pillows as he took position over the bowl and resumed his deep gazing and humming. I sank onto the cushions beside Gideon, sucking my wounded thumb. Several uneventful moments passed, and the little spark of hope in my chest dimmed. Perhaps Otokar’s Magical dealings would result in nothing at all. But a ghostly light blossomed across the water’s surface, highlighting his long nose and strong brow. His singing faded away, and he seemed to freeze like a statue—no breathing, no subtle muscle twitches. I leaned closer to Gideon, bit my lip, and waited.

Time slowed. Shadows deepened. The mists thickened. Then, as if it came from somewhere far away, a shout echoed through the room, followed by laughter, a jeering crowd, horses neighing, a girl giggling. The girl’s laughter reminded me of someone...Malita? How was it possible, hearing her laughter as though she merely stood outside the laboratory door?

I shifted, preparing to see for myself the things that had claimed Otokar’s attention, but Gideon grasped my arm. “Just wait,” he whispered, his attention focused on the Magician.

Otokar thawed from his frozen state, and his eyes flickered. His hand hovered over the water’s surface, and his fingers twitched as though turning pages from a book. He watched a while longer until the distant sounds faded. He blinked, looked up from the bowl, and rubbed his wrist across his eyes.

Sighing, he stepped back from the table as mists dwindled, and the room temperature rose. The urge to ask him to tell me everything burned on my tongue, but Gideon squeezed my arm. I swallowed my questions and waited for the Magician to gather his composure.

He raised a hand and waggled his fingers. The blue firefly lights flickered to life. He went to a small desk, poured the contents of another pitcher into a goblet, and drank it in several huge gulps. Smacking his lips, he folded his hands at his waist and fixed his gaze on me. “I believe I have found your friends.”

Shrugging off Gideon’s grip, I shot to my feet. “Where are they?”

Otokar’s brow furrowed. He wrinkled his nose. “That part is more difficult to say.”

“Difficult?”

“The vision does not show me a map, Evie. The Magic only allows me to see a small piece of a large puzzle. But the details of that piece provide some clues. There was a crowd, and the people were speaking a foreign language. I cannot be certain, but it sounded like a language from the Syrillivic regions—Bluraise, Galgota, Varynga, and so forth.”

“I heard Varyngish.” Gideon rose to stand beside me. “I’m sure of it.”

I blinked at him as if he’d told me he could walk on water. “Is there any language you don’t speak?”

“I don’t speak it.” Gideon huffed. “But I’ve met Varyngan traders a few times in Steinerland. I may have picked up a word or two.”

Languages stuck to him like glue, and I envied his talent. “There must be something you’re bad at. One of these days I’ll find out what that is.”

He folded his arms over his chest and grunted as if to say good luck. I turned to Otokar. “So, the Fantazikes could be somewhere in Varynga. It’s an enormous country, judging by the maps I’ve seen in my father’s study. How are we supposed to find a single pod of peas in a ten-thousand-acre wood?”

He threw hands out at his sides. “Before, you only knew they could be anywhere in the whole world. Now you know what country they are in. Compared to searching for them in hundreds of nations, finding them in one country should be simple, no?”

“Simple?” I shook my head. “Maybe a little less hopeless than before, but not simple.” Even as I said it, plans formed in my head. I could return to the Katedrála z Vzrostl Syn and ask Sister Maria to focus our inquiries on her counterparts in Varynga. “Perhaps the empress has contacts among the royal family in Toksva,” I said, naming the capital city. “Maybe one of them has seen the Fantazikes. They like setting up near big cities. More people means more money.”

Otokar folded his hands and bowed toward me. “I shall be pleased to talk to the empress on your behalf. I will ask her to start an inquiry.”

“Really?” I glanced at Gideon, and his dour expression dampened my enthusiasm. His seriousness reminded me about the hazards of raising my hopes prematurely. I cleared my throat and clasped my hands behind my back, adopting a stiffer posture. “Tell Her Majesty I would be grateful for her assistance.”

Gideon pressed closer to my side, and I interpreted his body language: he was ready to leave. I bobbed a quick curtsey to Otokar and backed away. “I am grateful for your assistance, too.”

The Magician smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Gideon opened the workroom door and held it for me. “We’ll let you get back to work, Master Otokar.”

He nodded as Gideon drew me into the hallway. “What’s the big rush?” I whispered.

“I don’t care for Magicians,” he muttered. “You got what you came for. There was no reason to linger.”

I scowled at his back as he led me toward our rooms. “I don’t like it when you get bossy.”

“And I don’t like it when you get hurt. Let me do my job.”

I huffed behind him. “I’m going to regret your promotion, aren’t I?”

He tossed a dark look over his shoulder. “The horses are easier to tend than you are, Evie.”

I resisted the urge to blow a raspberry at him, although it would have perfectly summarized my feelings. Instead, we trudged to our rooms in silence. Marlis greeted us the moment we stepped through the door. Excitement radiated from her, and she clutched a stiff, cream-colored card as if it were a trophy. “The empress has invited you to a dinner party tomorrow night.” She presented the card to me. “There will be visiting dignitaries, and she wants you to meet them.”

“Dignitaries?” I said. “I don’t know. It’s bad enough Tereza knows my identity, but to reveal myself to more strangers seems like a big risk.”

“I agree,” Gideon said.

“Did she say where these dignitaries are coming from?” I asked.

“She didn’t, but the servant who brought her invitation said Her Highness thought you would be very interested to meet them. They’re well-connected.”

I turned to Gideon, so I could read his expression. “Maybe she means it’s another avenue to use for finding the Fantazikes. Maybe they’re interested in my claims to the Inselgrish throne.”

He frowned. “Maybe Tereza has ulterior motives, too. You don’t know if you can trust her.”

“Every move we make, short of hiding in the shadows again, has risks.”

“I breathed easier in the shadows.”

“And yet, the empress still found us.”

“You weren’t exactly being quiet.”

I balled a fist. “I can’t reclaim my throne in silence.”

Gideon’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You can’t claim your throne if you’re locked up, broken, or dead, either.”

Perhaps his authoritarian nature inspired my rebellious urges, or perhaps I was tired of playing mouse, skittering around the dark places of the world, trying not to draw attention. We had lived that way for weeks, and it hadn’t helped me or kept me safe. Finding myself, my connection to the storms and thunder and my kingdom, meant stepping into the daylight—it was a tactic we had yet to try. “Hiding has gotten us nowhere. Dangerous or not, I’m willing to make myself known. It might make the difference between merely surviving and truly living. It might be the key to finding my thunder when nothing else has worked.

“I’m going to Tereza’s dinner. I’ll meet these dignitaries and see if they have anything useful to offer. You’ll be there, too, Gideon, playing the role of my personal guard, but I want you to watch and listen and tell me anything you think might help us.” I pointed toward my bedroom. “Marlis, please help me find something appropriate to wear.”

Gideon said nothing as I retreated into my chambers. Moments later, the hallway door opened and banged shut hard enough to make the walls shudder.

I opened the wardrobe. “Your brother has quite the temper.”

Marlis drew up beside me and stared at the collection of jewel-toned fabrics. “Not really. I think you simply have a knack for drawing out his ire.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Knack?”

She smiled. “A talent.” I shook my head and focused on the gowns again. “He’s worried about you. He cares for you and it makes him afraid.”

I snorted but withheld my retort. Not that I had a reply, other than to deny her assertion. She set her jaw, crossed her arms over her chest, and boldly returned my stare. Clearly, she believed her claims, and my own doubts wouldn’t sway her. Perhaps Gideon did care for me on a personal level, but maybe he only wanted to assuage his guilt for betraying me to his uncle.

He’d abandoned his home for me, but what was his ultimate goal? Surely, he wanted something more than bowing at my feet for the rest of his life. Gideon had ambition—of that much I was certain. But to what end?