’You have a lot of explaining to do,’ Marina adds. He is unmoved by our anger and remains seated. ‘I had to be sure you are who you claim to be. I had to be sure you were ready to meet me. My apologies if your feelings, or anything else, were hurt. You all proved yourselves, if that makes you feel any better.’ I’m fed up. I’m tired and hungry. Not to mention I flew across the world and fought an army to get here. I want answers. I stand up, fists clenched at my sides. ‘I’m going to ask a question, and if you don’t answer me directly, we’re leaving. This isn’t a philosophical discussion; and you had no right to test us. Are you, or are you not, Number Eight?’

He looks up at me and purses his lips. His skin color changes from blue to a deep copper tone. When he shakes his head, the crown falls off and his black hair grows into a shaggy mop of curls. Two of his arms vanish, and in a matter of seconds, a shirtless teenage guy sits on the grass in front of us. Commander Sharma gasps.

He’s kind of thin, but toned. With his full lips and thick black eyebrows, I must say, he’s kind of hot. Around his neck hangs a blue Lorien pendant.

He’s one of us.

Ella looks over at Crayton, who exhales a long breath. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but the boy speaks first.

‘My Cêpan originally named me Joseph, but I have gone by many names. In this region, most people know me by the name Naveen.’ He pauses and looks at me, then pulls up the ragged leg of his pants to reveal the scarred Loric symbols of One, Two and Three on his ankle. ‘If you want to get all Loric on me, then yes, you can call me Number Eight.’

The anger bubbling inside of me pops and disappears. We have found another member of the Garde. We just got stronger.

Crayton steps forward and offers his hand. ‘We’ve been looking for you, Eight. We’ve traveled a long distance. I’m Crayton, Ella’s Cêpan.’

Eight stands and shakes Crayton’s hand. He’s tall, and every muscle in his upper body and stomach is very well defined. He’s clearly been training for years, surviving alone in the mountains.

Ella stands as well. ‘I’m Ella,’ she says. ‘I’m Number Ten.’

‘Whoa!’ Eight says. He looks into her eyes. ‘What do you mean, you’re Number Ten? There’re only nine of us. Who told you you’re Number Ten?’