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transmitted, opening her eyes to study him. Greyfell’s irises were flecked with gold—just like hers—and as he held her gaze, tiny bits of cold speckled her consciousness, like icy drops of rain inside her head.
    The more she concentrated on them, the more they turned into a steady stream.
    Then a downpour of nightmares.
    Sharp-toothed beasts, and humans with gleaming weapons—chasing, hunting, out for blood. Screams and war cries echoed in her consciousness as the ache of scars still healing brought tears to her eyes.
    She tried to pull her mind free, but Greyfell kept sending violent, bloody scenes filled with lumpy-faced monsters—ogres, she realized—beating and bludgeoning everything they touched until the whole world was red. She wanted to cry, scream, scratch the scenes out of her brain. But she could only stand there as the fear seemed to crystallize inside her, freezing her from the inside out.
    “Whoa,” Keefe said, dragging Sophie back. He held her tight as she shivered against his chest. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
    “What happened?” she asked when her voice was working again.
    “I have no idea. One minute you and Greyfell were becoming BFFs. Next minute you were shaking and Greyfell was thrashing so much Jurek had to sedate him.”
    “He did?” She tried to spin around and felt her knees collapse.
    Keefe barely managed to catch her. “Hey—take it easy. He’s fine, see?”
    He turned so they were facing Greyfell’s collapsed body, which didn’t look fine. His wide eyes stared at nothing and his purple tongue drooped to the ground. But his chest was rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.
    “He’ll wake up as soon as I remove this,” Jurek said, pointing to a lei of tiny green-blue flowers around Greyfell’s neck.
    Sophie usually loved anything teal, but there was something ominous about the pointed petals, like nature was trying to warn everyone to stay away.
    “Dreamlilies,” Jurek explained. “The slightest touch of their pollen and you’re out like a hibernating bugbear.”
    Sophie didn’t know what a bugbear was, but she hoped they slept peacefully.
    “So,” Keefe said, making her realize she was still holding on to him. “You okay now?”
    “Yeah. Sorry.” She pulled away to stand on her own, hiding behind her hair so he couldn’t see her blushing. “Greyfell’s just had a much harder life than Silveny.”
    Her voice quivered as her mind replayed the horrors Greyfell had shown her. He must be centuries old, and had witnessed the murder of his own kind at the hands of all manner of vicious creature. Most of the time he’d barely escaped with his own life, while friends, family—even his mate—weren’t as fortunate.
    But one memory was far more terrifying than the others, partially because it was familiar, but mostly because it was recent .
    “The rebels have been here,” Sophie whispered.
    “You’re sure?” Keefe asked, the same time Jurek said, “That’s impossible.”
    But Sophie knew what she’d seen. “Greyfell saw a black-cloaked figure do something to Silveny while she was sleeping. That’s why he’s afraid of her.”
    She called Silveny down, half hoping she was wrong as she led her a safe distance away from Greyfell’s unconscious form. But when she traced her fingers through the shimmering silver strands of Silveny’s tail, it didn’t take long to find what she was looking for—right where Greyfell had shown her it would be.
    “This is why Silveny keeps chasing her tail,” Sophie said, holding out a quarter-size disk with five tiny crystals set into one side.
    She’d never seen one so large or intricate, and she’d never seen one made of silver.
    But she knew exactly what it was, even before Jurek tore his hands through his hair and said, “That looks like a tracker.”

SIX
    T HERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE,” Jurek said for the dozenth time as he combed through Silveny’s mane, checking for other trackers. “No one could’ve