“No,” she says finally. “I think if the prince knew what you were, he’d have arrested you the moment he saw you. Victory likes to pretend humans are no longer a threat; a Hero traipsing around the market would ruin the illusion. And if he wanted to use you to find the rest of us? Well, he wouldn’t have left us alone long enough to have this conversation.”

I look at Shura gratefully. She took a chance bringing me back here; I’m not sure many of the others would have done the same. But even with Annika’s small words of comfort, Shura doesn’t look pleased. I think perhaps there’s still a conversation to come between her and her mom.

Guilt ripples through me. Shura took me to the market as a favor, and I’m paying her back via parental disappointment and a lecture from Annika.

Ahmet tilts his head to the side, his disbelief still visible. “We always thought attempting to look like a Resident was like a human pretending to be another animal. It wouldn’t matter if they were covered in fur, scales, or needles—you could look in their eyes and see they were human. You’d sense the imposter. You’d know. But somehow…”

“Somehow you did what we never could,” Annika finishes for him, and the room falls quiet. She watches the detailed hologram of Victory spin slowly in the center of the table. “We’ve never been able to disguise ourselves well enough to hide from the Residents. And today you didn’t just hide—you spoke with one.”

“Prince Caelan,” Shura adds bitterly. “The ruler of Victory.”

“How did you do it?” Theo asks seriously, ears red from concentrating so hard.

I wish I could give him the answer he wants. Something simple yet informative that could be wrapped up in a neat little bow and filed away for safekeeping. I wish I had any answer that could make everyone stop looking at me like I’m an irregularity.

“All I know is that one second I was thinking about this comic my dad wrote, and the next… I can’t explain it. I didn’t even know I’d changed until the prince”—I pause, looking at Shura—“Prince Caelan said something about my dress.”

“She broke out of my veil,” Shura clarifies. “It was like she turned into a different person. I lost hold of her, and I never lose hold of anyone.” She looks at her mom for an extra beat, as if to say “It’s not my fault.”

Annika nods like she understands, before shifting her eyes to mine and pressing her fingers into the table for emphasis. “This is a gift. And I don’t intend to let it go to waste.”

I twist my hands together, uncertainty gnawing at my chest.