“As requested, you two will be flown to the airport you departed from, November,” Blackwood says, and leans back in her chair. Her relaxed posture doesn’t soften her. “You’ll be responsible for yourselves from there.”

“Thank you,” I say, still a little awed that she’s letting us go.

Blackwood looks from me to Ash. “Before you travel, you’ll receive your clothes and personal effects.” She hands us each a thick envelope. “And these.”

I peek inside to find an enormous stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Holy sh—”

Blackwood gives me a look and I swallow the word, fooling no one. Ash’s eyes betray his amusement. Where in the heck did all this money come from? I’m assuming my dad, but this must be half his savings.

“Do you have any logistical questions for me?” Blackwood asks, and I can tell by the way she emphasizes logistical that she’s discouraging the type of conversation we had two nights ago, when we openly discussed her friendship with my dad. And now I’m regretting not asking her more questions about her time in the Academy with my parents—what they were like when they were my age before they ran away from Europe and their Strategia Families to hide in America.

“How do we get in touch with you if we need to?” I ask, suddenly uncertain that I want to walk away from Academy Absconditi for good.

She nods and the faintest hint of a smile appears in the corners of her eyes. “The usual way—through your Family contacts.”

I open my mouth to say that I have no idea who those contacts would be, but since the guards are in the room, I decide against it.

Blackwood looks at Ash, but he makes no effort to ask her anything. He exudes a nonchalant attitude, as though we were doing nothing more than visiting our Families for the holiday.

“Now if that’s all,” Blackwood continues, “these guards will take you to change into your travel clothes and you’ll be off.”

Ash and I stand up.

“Safe journey and I’ll see you both when you return,” Blackwood says, and even though her tone is as cold and distant as always, I get the sense that in her own way she’s wishing us good luck.

“Thanks,” I say, and smile, regretting that I didn’t thank her for the various ways she’s protected me when I had the chance to speak freely. Our conversation two nights ago was in the wake of being attacked by Conner, and my exhaustion, compounded with the realization that my dad left not one scrap of information about how to find him, made me overwhelmed and cloudy.