Alex glares at me intently, and with a note of accusation he says, “Receiving prophecy involves a ritual that requires extensive training. But unreliable and cryptic premonitions can be induced with Kishuf—the corruption of nature with dark arts, like blood magic. Did you consume blood before your vision?”

“Of course not.” Except… “Oh. Simon—he fell on me, and his cheek cut on my teeth.” I cringe at the memory of blood filling my mouth. “But it was totally an accident.”

Alex stands and stalks over to me. He looks down, straight into my eyes. His gaze is cold, regal, commanding. “Who are you?” he asks.

For a moment I don’t answer. Then I say the name that once brought me pride. “My name is Ada Isabella Castle, from the Daughters of Castile, steward to the histories of the Families of the Holy Inquisition.” I swallow and continue. “I was sent here to gather information for the Families. But I now renounce that task.” Well, at least partially. “From now on I want to help protect the Makers of Genesis.”

Prince Alex shakes his head. “But who are you?” he presses. He’s asking a question that I have been unconsciously asking myself for some time now.

While I’ve been finally getting to know my self—my heart, my beliefs, my values—I’ve had doubt cast on everything I thought I knew about my upbringing and who I’d always thought my family was.

“I’m not sure how to answer your question,” I say sincerely. “But I can tell you this. My father is a musician named Joseph Levi.”

Alex’s eyes go wide, and I hear sharp intakes of breath from Bloche and Rafe. The room seems to go still for a silent moment, and then everything is moving faster than my heartbeat.

Alex grabs Rafe by the shoulders and says intently, “You must tell no one. Not even Father.”

“We have to inform Chorus,” Bloche says, standing.

Alex shakes his head in frustration. “She probably already knows. She hasn’t wanted to meet the girl. She’s been saying it’s not yet time.” He shakes his head again, his long hair shifting like a living thing. “I wish she would…” He trails off and looks at me again. “Yosef was not a Prophet himself, but his grandmother was.” His grandmother, meaning my great-grandmother. Was a Prophet. “It would make sense that his child would inherit the Sight.” Alex advances on me. The intensity has not left his eyes. “You must never ingest blood to induce a blood prophecy. You were lucky this time, but I cannot stress how dangerous Kishuf is. When the time is right, Chorus will train you to develop your Sight properly using the ritual stones. Kishuf will never be necessary.” He strokes his beard. “By the Conductor, the child of Yosef HaLevi… How old are you?” he asks me.

“Eighteen.”

“And your father is still alive?”