“Apparently he does,” Aarya says from the backseat.

“Are you thinking the message was altered? That it wasn’t from him?” Ash asks, ignoring Aarya.

“No. It was his handwriting,” I say. “And it follows the patterns of the other clues he’s left us. It’s just that all of a sudden, after seventeen years of raising me in a small town away from Strategia, talking to me in non-Strategia ways, and teaching me non-Strategia values, he suddenly does a one-eighty.”

“Didn’t your dad also lie to you your whole life?” Aarya says, which earns her a disapproving look from Ash through the rearview mirror.

“He did,” I say. “And I’m learning to accept that, even though I don’t like it. But sending me to Logan’s and to that Lion ball is different. Why would he willingly put me in danger…to what, test me? Everything in me tells me he wouldn’t do that, yet here we are with an address that he could easily have hidden in the tree outside my house instead of in a Lion event. What kind of a parent would do something like that to their child?”

“Mine,” Ash and Aarya say at the same time, and it puts the kibosh on my rant.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did and it’s fine,” Ash says. “You’re right that Strategia parents aren’t as warm or cuddly as other people’s parents. But they have a level of responsibility that other parents don’t. They know their children will grow up to stop disasters, to thwart attacks, to sidestep wars—and they do what they need to in order to get us prepared. When you’re looking out for everyone, there are always personal sacrifices. Strategia aren’t perfect.”

“Speak for yourself,” Aarya says.

I nod because I’m not sure what to say. Ash’s point is absolutely fair, and from a nonemotional standpoint that logic makes perfect sense. But I’m not coming from a nonemotional standpoint and I don’t want to. I want my dad—the one I’ve always had, the one who loves me so much he would risk everything to keep me safe.

Ash slows and I spot the sign for Winter Street. We pass a restaurant cleaning up for the night and a closed chocolatier’s with the number 6 on the awning. And the instant Ash puts the car in park, I’m out the door.

I walk quickly to a brick apartment building with white trim, bay windows, and a bronze number 1. It only takes a few seconds for Ash, Aarya, and Ines to join me. We don’t discuss it; we just casually walk up to the door, and Ash pulls out his lock-picking tools as though they were keys. I stand next to him, blocking him from the view of any pedestrians, and in a couple of seconds we’re inside.