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quicker than having your father in the next room.
    “So we’re agreed?” he asked, offering me his hand to shake.
    “Agreed.”
     

 
    CHAPTER 4
     
    When they told me that we were going to a “castle,” I hadn’t really known what to think. The only images I could come up with in my mind were based on the only two examples of castles I’d ever really known, neither of which were doing me any good. The first was of the only two castles in the US – or the only two that I was aware of, anyway – one in Florida and one in California, both of which had been built by Disney, and as such, obviously didn’t count. The other was pictures and drawings in all the fairytales and textbooks I’d read growing up. The history books had shown ancient fortresses which were cool, but clearly not anything that would still be habitable today, while the fairytales depicted grand Camelot-style citadels with stone arches, flag-topped steeples, and drawbridges over sparkling moats, which, though awesome as it would have been, didn’t seem any more likely. However, anthropomorphized rodents and lack of round table aside, Adare Manor turned out to be pretty incredible.
    I did my best to play it cool as we pulled up the long drive to the entry, but on the inside I was gaping like a kid from the sticks on their first trip to the city. The long white graveled drive up to the entry was lined with perfectly groomed topiaries and flowerbeds that looked like they’d popped straight off the page of a gardening magazine. The walls of the manor were high and white, with windows of all shapes and sizes decorating their faces, each pane shimmering under the afternoon sun like gems.
    And if for some reason the building and grounds alone weren’t enough to impress, the hustle-and-bustle surrounding them would certainly have done the trick. The moment we stepped out of our car we were swallowed up in as high class a flurry as I’d ever seen. There were dozens of luxury vehicles being unloaded and whisked away by white gloved valets, scores of servers – in tuxes, no less – passing trays of refreshments to the arriving guests, and more varieties of designer luggage than I’d even realized existed.
    And I felt like a chicken at a swan show.
    I’d worn the nicest travel-appropriate outfit I owned, and had even taken the time that morning to do my hair and make-up, and until that moment I’d felt pretty good. But now, standing in the midst of a five-star flutter of manicured nails, air kisses, and French-cuffed shirts, it didn’t feel like enough. Luckily, my general distaste for these people eased the self-conscious itch I felt crawling up my back.
    Almost, anyway…
    However, there was something else that was off, and it had nothing to do with rosebushes, fancy cars, or self-esteem. It was a feeling in my head; a strange haze round my mind as though my brain needed to blink. It started just before we pulled up to the Manor and seemed to be growing by the minute, becoming almost overwhelming. As one of the valet/bellman teams came over to our car and began unloading, I stepped over to the edge of the drive and out of the way, trying not to stumble.
    Holders. They were all Holders. Of course I’d known that would be the case, but I hadn’t given any thought to how it would feel – and I clearly should have.
    “Are you all right?” Alex asked quietly, coming over to stand beside me.
    “Yeah… I’m, um… fine.” Or at least I was trying to appear fine, but I knew I was blinking way too much to completely pull it off.
    Being able to sense other Holders around me was not new; in fact, it had become so second nature that I barely noticed the brushes of ability on my mind unless I deliberately looked for them. This, however, was like nothing I’d ever experienced. There were Holders everywhere; dozens and dozens of them, all with a corresponding ability radiating from them like a florescent bulb. I could feel them everywhere; nearby, far