The great hall. That can only mean one thing: a binding ceremony. My appetite vanishes and I push the tray away.

“I’m done,” I tell her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Norah hasn’t asked me about the details of my kenning. Including which of the three Sights my reading showed.

I can tell her anything I want.

Tessa and I walk down the corridor toward the great hall. As she fills me in on what to expect during the ceremony, I think of my father’s lessons in strategy. Should I say I have Third Sight? Assuming Norah has hired another instructor to replace Latham, they would presumably be using his old office. Latham might have left behind clues there that could help locate him.

Then again, I could say I have First Sight. Maybe focusing more heavily in reading the past would help me determine his plan in more detail.

And not choosing Second Sight might be protective—if I’m bound to the same Sight as either my mother or Gran, will Latham really acquire the bones of all three Sights by killing me?

The large doors of the great hall come into view, and an image rises in my mind. A huge rectangular room bathed in sunlight. Soaring ceilings supported by massive bone columns. Hundreds of folded cloaks resting beside stone basins. A shiver tingles down my spine. It’s as if a ghost has sidled up beside me to whisper secrets into my ear. Memories of things that never happened to me but would have if I’d been on a different path. If Gran’s bone had never broken.

But when Tessa opens the door, the scene before me looks nothing like the one in my memory.

The day is overcast, and so the stained-glass windows aren’t flooded with light and color. No rows of long tables. No stacks of colorful cloaks. No grandeur at all.

And the room is empty.

“Oh no,” Tessa says, “you had more time to eat and I rushed you. I’m sorry.”

I laugh at the sincere look of regret in her eyes and take her fingers in mine. “You’re a good friend, Tessa.”

Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and it takes me a moment to realize my mistake. We’ve only just met, and my response was far too familiar. I let go of her hand and my cheeks flame.

She studies me with a perplexed expression, and I scramble for some way to explain. “I’m sorry, I—”