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Maybe my being here isn’t some freak accident. Maybe I’m supposed to be here, now, for a time like this. No one but Aidan knows Jasyn carries the Void. What if keeping the darkness hidden was the very cause of my grandfather’s downfall? I know the king meant—means—well, but what if I’m here to influence even the smallest alteration that could effect a difference in the future?

Perhaps I was wrong when I believed the past couldn’t be changed. Could Hollywood have it backward? Without my Mask Calling I may not be able to transform into a butterfly, but that doesn’t mean this butterfly can’t cause an effect that will start a hurricane.

Can anyone say boom?

I free my arms. Sit. My head has had enough of these stabbing bobby pins. One by one I remove them, placing them in a pile on the cushion beside me. My crunchy hair stays mostly in place, so I comb my fingers through it. The effort does little to relax my locks, but at least my scalp isn’t throbbing.

When will my grandparents return? They brought me to the apartment, and I got one quick hug in before they promptly left.

“Get some rest now, mia cara.” Grandma B patted my head, then cupped my face. Looked into my eyes as if she really knew me. “I will return, di mattina.” Her entire face softened then, her lips forming a sad smile.

I looked from her face to Nathaniel’s, attempting to find my father and uncle somewhere in between. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. Who knows if I’ll ever see them again?

They turned to retreat down the stairs.

“Wait.” I hovered in the doorway.

My grandparents paused.

The brave girl Mom has always believed in did something totally bold and weird then. I threw my arms around my grandparents, holding particularly tight to Bianca’s neck. Nathaniel’s still around, though it’ll be a wonder if another visit to Lisel Island lies in my future.

It was Nathaniel who had the last word. “There, there, child.” He patted my head the way Bianca had, but with much less maternal instinct. His touch was more in line with that of Ebony petting a stray dog. “Things will work out in the end. Wait and see.”

Did he realize how much I needed his assurance? They looked at me with wide eyes when I released them, but their expressions remained kind. No doubt my sudden outpouring of affection startled them. Which is fine, because I will live knowing I made the moment count. Every moment matters.

Every. Single. One.

Did my grandparents return to the Alliance meeting? Did my shock really warrant my being treated as if I’m breakable? I could be helping them, finding out more information. Instead, I’m stuck here, Callingless, with no game plan. When did I become so obsolete? No mirrormark? No power? What good is the Verity beneath my skin if I can’t do anything with it? What am I without the one thing that makes me, well, me?

“It doesn’t define you, brave girl.” Mom’s long-ago whisper brushes my soul.

She’s told me this countless times. On days I felt particularly hideous. Do her words ring true now?

I unwrap myself from the scratchy fabric and plant my socked feet on the wood floor. The boards don’t creak as I pad to the radiator beside the nearest window. It’s the middle of the night, but why tiptoe? Nobody’s here except me. The clanging radiator covers the muted sound anyway.

The sheer eggshell curtains act as a veil between me and my reflection. I push them to one side, peering at the girl I’ve glimpsed only once before. In a dungeon I believed was a palace. In the time and place I’d give anything to be.

Unremarkable. That’s the first word that pings my mind as I turn my head left, then right, examining my even complexion. There really is no other word for me but average. Plain. An eggshell face to match the curtains. A face that would never stand out in a crowd. My mocha hair almost swallows me now. I pull it back with one hand to catch a better look.

I used to imagine I’d resemble Mom more without the mark. I shake my head. What an utter disappointment. Her natural beauty captivates. Her bonbon eyes with that forever twinkle in them.

And me? I’m flat. I’m—

Whoa. Where did that come from?

I recoil from the window, and the curtains swish back into place. This . . . negativity. It’s not me, not anymore. I blink three times, shaking away the tangible gloom overtaking my heart. I’m alone. Lost. Disoriented. But I will never allow myself to be consumed by self-loathing again.

Never.

I inch closer to the radiator, which rattles again. The noise is loud enough it sounds as if an animal is making an attempt to barge through the wall. I stretch my palms toward it, warming them. Clang, bang, clatter.

I curl my fingers into fists. I stiffen my body. That encore noise did not come from the old-fashioned heater.

I turn slightly, gaining a good view of the front door. The knob jiggles again. A key holder would not take so long entering.

Which means . . .

My palm meets glass. I close my eyes, try for a song. Whispered words release on nipped breaths. They do not resemble lyrics whatsoever.

“Somewhere else . . .

I need to be . . .

Anywhere else . . .”

Nothing.

Worth a shot, right?

My faith in the Verity’s power dwindles as I inch backward, toward the darkest corner of the apartment. Darn it for the lack of mirror walking. Great time to be Callingless. Maybe this is just a dream. The time travel. My unmarked skin. It’s too crazy to be real, yeah? I’ll wake up, warm in my bed, mark on my face, family and friends by my side.

Ha. Nice one. Tried hoping for that once before. No use doubting the insane. In my experience it’s usually, more often than not, true.

The door opens to a soundless overture. The man framed by the threshold peers at me through the shadows. Then he removes his black bowler hat, touches it to his heart, and smiles.

Never mind. Forget what I said. This isn’t a dream.

This is a nightmare.

ACT II

On My Own

TEN

Ky

What’s a fine ship like this doing at bay? She ought to be out to sea.”

Those words have haunted me since the day they were spoken. I’d just gained my bearings in the Third again. Between being banished from the Second by David and hightailing it to the Fourth and back to retrieve my sister, I’d decided one thing.

Nothing would make me move from that spot aside from the queen of the Second herself.

I turned from the port side where I gazed out upon the waves. A cloaked figure, decidedly female from her height, build, and sound, stood a cannon’s length away. The wool cloak pooled at her feet, the hood draping her head like a tarp over a barrel. Her midsection protruded slightly, but not enough to say she was heavy.

I furrowed my brow. The Seven Seas was hidden by a façade, which meant this was no ordinary passerby. Was she an Amulet or something other? “I’m waiting for the right time to set sail,” I replied. Waiting for Em, for the day she turned up on my deck step.

“Any chance you’d give me passage to the nearest Threshold?” The voice was timeless, cooler than a bell. I couldn’t make out her face beneath the cloak’s hood, but I guessed she was middle age. Her tone emanated wisdom, though it also implied a certain youth. But I doubted she was much older than my ship’s most talented Mask, Charley.