“Emma, you need to stop viewing this as a burden and see it the way I do. It’s a gift.” Her tone is probably harsher than she means it to sound. Or maybe it’s intentional. Maude isn’t one to mince words. “I meant what I said yesterday. If you can harness it, use it for good… Emma, I don’t want to scare you,” she says, her tone changing. She sounds less certain now. More hesitant.

“Maybe don’t, then?” I crack a smile.

“I’ve been going over and over this Legacy Project of Gravelle’s, trying to get one step ahead of him and figure out what his endgame is. I can’t,” she says. “What does it mean that he wants us getting closer to our DNA families? I refuse to take Gravelle’s words at face value, that our tasks are simply part of our birthright. There has got to be something we’re missing. I’m sure of it.”

“And you’re afraid we’re not going to figure it out until it’s too late,” I conclude.

She nods. “Please, practice that mind reading. If you can learn to do it on command… We may need it, Emma. And you.”

Maude’s words haunt me till lunchtime, when I walk into the dining hall. She’s right. I’ve been acting like a brat about this talent of mine, when, in truth, it could prove so useful. What was I thinking? Wouldn’t most people kill to be able to see inside others’ heads?

That thought sends a shiver up and down my spine, and I wish I hadn’t gone there. Considering what a government might do to get its hands on this ability…on me… I feel sick at the thought of Harlowe having this intimate knowledge of what I’m capable of. How she might try to use it against me. To hurt me or my friends—or worse.

I’ll simply have to stay one step ahead of her.

As I thread my way through the dining hall tables, I try to open my mind to the thoughts around me. I focus on a first-year girl in chunky glasses, willing myself to hear what’s in her head.

—going to fail out of trig and my dad’s going to kill me—

I turn away from her, staring at a boy at the next table.

—can never tell him that I love him, can I? I mean he has no idea, no clue at all—

And finally, I walk over to a crowded table of second years and laser in on a heavily tattooed student in suspenders.

—is it weird that I kind of want new friends? Is it too late for me to get new friends—