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into the boat. The way they’d starved him and spit on him and dragged him through the stormy sea for days with no water. And now, here, the storm still raged all around. Where was he? He had to get away. He had to escape!
    With all his strength, he pushed against the mattress and tried lifting himself up, only to fall back again. He breathed hard, the air slicing his lungs, and tried again. Once more his strength gave out and he landed, twisted, on the cot.
    A wave of nausea interrupted his efforts, and he began sweating again. He tested his voice, crying out for help, but it came out grainy and weak, nothing like the commanding voice of a high priest. He gave up.
    When a shadow fell over his face, Aaron was too tired to open his eyes. But when someone slipped his arm around Aaron’s shoulders and hoisted him up, putting a cup to his mouth, the boy lashed out blindly, slapping it aside. The back of his hand connected with the jaw of the one helping him, sending the man sprawling.
    A moment later, Aaron could hear a low chuckle nearby and the voice of an old man saying, “Ah, there you are, Alex-san. I think you are going to be just fine after all.”
    Pain ripped through Aaron’s stomach. Again, someone confused him for his brother. How was it possible that everybody in the world seemed to know Alex? Why couldn’t Aaron ever be recognized?
    He’d pretended to be Alex in the past. But this time Aaron wasn’t going to let it happen. He was tired of it. He was Aaron Stowe, high priest of Quill, and he had done a lot of impressive things on his own, thank you very much. He was really getting sick of his brother always being the one people knew—and liked. And Aaron was tired of hiding conveniently behind his brother’s fame, when Aaron should be known as the famous one for becoming the youngest high priest of Quill ever. He’d vaulted to the top in an amazingly short amount of time. And people ought to know about it. If Aaron’s name was going to be known in this world, he’d better start using it and standing behind it, because clearly nobody else was going to vouch for him.
    With all the energy he could muster, Aaron opened hiseyes. He blinked a few times and looked at the blurry face of the ancient little man who had returned to his side.
    â€œI’m not Alex,” Aaron rasped, his voice like gravel. “I’m Aaron.” He closed his eyes and breathed, and added, “I’m the twin everybody hates.”

Stealth and Trickery
    A day later, Alex met up with Florence, Simber, Samheed, Lani, Carina, and Sky. This time they took advantage of the beautiful day by sitting on the lawn. Simber seemed back to his usual self, and nothing was said of the previous day’s fight between him and Alex. But Alex was determined to make his new idea work without Simber’s assistance.
    â€œFlorence, start us off,” Alex said. “What’s our best move? Storm the palace?” He’d secretly always wanted to say that.
    â€œNo,” Florence said. “We want to draw her out of the palace. There are too many places for her to hide inside—right, Simber?”
    â€œAnd toomany innocent people inside who could get hurrrt,” Simber said, and by the look on his face, Alex could tell he was remembering their visit to the palace with Mr. Today, when Aaron had nearly killed Alex after sneaking up on him.
    â€œYeah, you’re right, of course,” Alex muttered reluctantly.
    â€œAnd,” Florence continued, “we’ll want to make this a definitive action—one move to take her down, and it’s done. Like Claire said, if we mess this up and she gets away, she’s going to know what we’re willing to do to stop her, and we definitely don’t want that.”
    Alex nodded. “Great. So we need a few of us to infiltrate Quill and keep an eye on the palace without being recognized. You four would do well at that,”