Chapter 1

Asher scrutinized the pretty purple ribbon in his hands. "When I dreamt of being a Knight, this wasn't what I had in mind."

"You're not a Knight yet," I reminded him.

Sighing, he continued sorting through the box of satin-sheen, brightly-colored ribbons. There were stacks of boxes positioned all across the ballroom, like the towers of a castle.

"Still, being an Apprentice was supposed to be more glorious than this." Dutch held up two tiny tea candles.

For once, I actually agreed with him. But I couldn't afford to complain. I had exactly four hundred Merit points on the Scoreboard, which was at least a hundred fewer points than anyone else. And I had under twelve hours to crawl my way up to five hundred.

"This assignment might not be glorious, but it is absolutely critical to Gaia's future," said Ms. Featherdale.

In addition to being an Apprentice Program Manager, she was also the event planner for the upcoming Summit in the Magic Emporium. Today, my team was helping her set up the conference center that would host the event.

"She's right," Eris told us. "This Summit is the first—the only—time Gaia has ever hosted the Many Realms Court. It's our chance to prove to the other realms' leaders that we should be admitted as a member of the Court." She passed a box full of sparkly room decorations to Bronte, who looked more than happy to tackle the task of going through them.

Bronte wasn't the sort to complain. She was the sort to get things done, no matter the task.

"When you're finished organizing the ribbons, start hanging up the paper lanterns." Ms. Featherdale set a box marked ‘lighting' on the fold-out table in front of Asher.

Asher looked like he would rather eat the paper lanterns than do anything of the sort, but he simply nodded and got to work. And so did the rest of us. Getting the Emporium's conference center ready for the upcoming Summit would take a lot of work.

"The members of the Court are very particular," said Ms. Featherdale, "so make sure you follow all the instructions I've printed out to the letter."

She was referring to the two-thousand-page bundle that she'd handed each of us when we'd entered the conference center this morning.

"You two, come with me." Ms. Featherdale waved at me and Kylie, and we followed her across the ballroom, to the neighboring room.

The room was as ugly and plain as the ballroom was beautiful and opulent. Instead of glossy wood flooring and gold-trimmed arches, it had naked concrete walls and a rusted, lopsided metal drain in the center of the floor.

"Over here." Ms. Featherdale pointed at the big bathtub next to the drain.

The tub was filled with bleach. My nose told me that before my eyes did.

"Thoroughly bleach everything to get out the stains and the stench of the Wilderness." Ms. Featherdale pointed at the enormous pile of old tablecloths on the floor. Then she turned and walked back to the ballroom.

I grabbed a smock and a pair of pink cleaning gloves off the back of a foldout chair in the corner. "These tablecloths look like they've been through the apocalypse." I held up one of them, frowning. "Are those tire tracks?"

"Probably," Kylie said as she geared up for work. "It looks like the Scavengers recovered these tablecloths from the Wilderness beyond the Fortress."

"I guess that makes them relics from the World That Was."

"Yeah, I guess it does." Kylie plunged a tablecloth into the bathtub of bleach.

I did the same to the tire track tablecloth in my hands.

"I wonder if the other teams are having this much fun." Kylie glanced sidelong at me, smirking.

"I'm pretty sure they are," I replied.

All the Apprentices had gathered at the Castle this morning to receive today's assignments from Ms. Featherdale and Mr. Manly, Ms. Pirana's replacement. That's when Nevada told me her team was gearing up to wash dishes in the Castle's kitchen. And Dante informed me his team would be cleaning up tree debris and raking leaves at the Oval. The members of Team Victory weren't particularly happy about working as ‘glorified Cutters'.

"Not bad, bro!" Asher called out.

Ms. Featherdale had left the door to the ballroom open. I shifted to the side until I could see Dutch and Asher. Dutch had lifted a bulky, metallic ceiling lamp over his head and was parading around the room with it, while Asher cheered him on. The lamp, shaped like a globe, was as large as a chandelier and looked really heavy.

"What do you think you're doing!" Ms. Featherdale gasped in horror.

"Making this assignment more interesting," Dutch said through clenched teeth. He was clearly struggling to keep the lamp aloft. "And practicing magic."

"How is this magic?" Ms. Featherdale's eyes tracked the expensive lamp. She looked like she wanted to rush in and grab it—but knew she couldn't lift something that heavy.

"It's not magic," Bronte chimed in. "Dutch is just being pigheaded."

Dutch winked at her. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, princess."

"I am not jealous." Bronte said the words a little too forcefully, blowing the assortment of feathers in front of her off the table. She scrambled to retrieve them.

Asher laughed. "Inspired by yesterday's Tournament, Dutch fancies himself a Knight now, you know. A Metamorph just as strong as Jareth Mars. That's how he can lift that lamp."

The ball-lamp hit the floor with a resounding thump. Luckily, it was too sturdy to break.

Bronte watched it roll across the ballroom, brows lifted. "It's a good thing you didn't try to lift a mirror," she told Dutch.

"It's easy to judge from the sidelines," Dutch shot back. "If you're so perfect, why don't you show us how it's done?"

Asher chuckled. "There's no chance of that. Vance won't risk a public show of magic until she's mastered the spell. She cares too much about her perfect reputation to risk dropping the ball." He winked at Dutch…

…who rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"Hey, how about you show us some magic, Asher!" Kylie called to him from our next door concrete bunker.

Our neglected tablecloths were floating in the bleach bathtub.

"Ok." Asher rolled back his shoulders and stood up a bit taller as he scanned the room, searching for inspiration. His gaze locked on to the ball-lamp. He sashayed over to it, scooped it up with his hands, and lifted it over his head.

"Copycat," Dutch snickered.

"Oh, this isn't a repeat of your failed show. It's something far more magical. I'm going to…" Asher puffed a few times under the strain of keeping the ball aloft. "…levitate it in the air. Just like the White Knight did yesterday when he caught the falling Scoreboard with his mind."

"You're talking about telekinesis," Bronte said, like she was a student answering a quiz question.

"Yes!" Asher grunted.

"But that's an Elf spell. And I thought all Elves are lame." The hint of a smirk crossed Bronte's lips.

"Really? It's Elf magic?" Asher looked confused.

And that's when the ball-lamp slipped from his fingers, tumbling down, down, down. Ms. Featherdale squeezed her eyes shut.

But the ball-lamp never hit the floor. A magical force caught it moments before impact. Now it was hovering just millimeters above the smooth surface, subtly bobbing like a buoy on the ocean.

"You did it!" Dutch laughed, slapping Asher on the back. "You used magic!"

"I did?" Asher looked down at his hands, turning them over before his eyes, like he expected to find magic dust on them.

"No." Eris hummed, and the ball-lamp made a gentle landing on the floor. "I did."

Dutch's eyes flitted between our mentor and the lamp at her feet. "But you're a Nymph. How can you use telekinesis?"

"I can't," she replied. "There's more than one way to grab something with magic. You can use telekinesis." She hummed again, and the ball-lamp rose from the ground and slowly floated across the room, landing inside its box. "Or you can use air magic."

Dutch gaped at her. "You are so much more intimidating than I thought."

"Thanks for the stamp of approval." Her eyes hardened into shards of turquoise. "But play time is over now. Get back to work on the tasks Ms. Featherdale has assigned you." Her gaze snapped to me and Kylie. "All of you."

We made a hasty retreat back to the bathtub.

"Dutch is right about one thing," Kylie whispered to me as we reached into the pool of bleach. "Eris is much more intimidating than she seems. She's much more than just a nice, friendly hippy."

"Well, she is a Knight." I hung my bleached tablecloth on one of the clotheslines. "And Knights have powerful magic. They are all pretty formidable heroes."

"You were a pretty formidable hero yourself yesterday at the Tournament, Savannah," said Kylie. "When the Black Knight attacked—when helpless people you didn't even know were in danger—you rushed in to help them. You didn't run away scared like the rest of us." She blushed, like she was ashamed. "You worried about others instead of just about yourself. That's why I know you'll make a great Knight."

And now I was ashamed. Too ashamed to tell her I didn't rush in to help strangers; I'd rushed in to help my mother. At the time, my mind hadn't even processed that there were others in danger too. All I'd seen was my mom.

If I really wanted to become a great Knight, I had to start thinking about other people too.

Kylie had already moved on. "Of course the biggest hero yesterday was the White Knight." She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "Your boyfriend."

"I told you. He's not my boyfriend."

"Why not?"

I struggled to find a response that wouldn't prompt more teasing.

"If you don't want him, I'll happily take him off your hands," Kylie offered. "He's cute."

"You don't even know what he looks like," I pointed out.

"But you do." A sly smile curled Kylie's lips. "Ha! I knew it! He showed you his face! When did this happen?"

She didn't even wait for me to answer. Not that I had an answer.

"It was when he escorted you home, wasn't it? Did he also tell you his name?"

I blinked.

Kylie swooned. "He did, didn't he? This is epic! The White Knight is the most famous, most mysterious Knight of them all. No one knows his name. Only the other Knights and the General have ever seen his face. He's so powerful and valiant and chivalrous and serious. He never takes off his helmet in front of humans—or even Apprentices. You're the first Apprentice to see his face, Savannah. Ever. He must really like you."

"There were extenuating circumstances," I said.

"Yeah, I'm sure there were. Like how much he likes you," she purred.

More like the scorching heat of Shadow Fall and the limited visibility due to that weird fog. But I wasn't supposed to talk about what had happened there. Apparently, Shadow Fall fell into the realm of classified knowledge. It felt kind of weird protecting a secret I wasn't even allowed to know about yet.

"Just tell me one thing, ok?" Kylie's eyes were pleading. "If the White Knight asked you to the Castle's annual masquerade ball, you would totally say yes, wouldn't you?"

Asher's voice cut through the doorway, piercing the vacuum of silence left by me. "You know we can all hear you, right?"

Kylie turned toward the door, where Asher was standing. "And?"

"And we don't need to hear you two gossip about boys," he told her.

"Then don't listen."

Kylie had already turned her back to him, so she didn't see him roll his eyes at her before he rejoined the others in the ballroom.

"Whew! Last one!" The tablecloth in my hands made a wet, squelching noise as I pulled it out of the tub. "Can you believe we're already done?"

Kylie chuckled. "Don't think I didn't notice what you did there, Savannah."

"What did I do?"

"Dodge my question." She slipped off her gloves and tossed them into the sink. "Ok, let's go see what else Ms. Featherdale has for us, shall we?"

I followed Kylie back into the ballroom, where the other Apprentices on our team were in the middle of a heated debate about which Tribe they'd end up in.

"The Elves." Bronte's answer was immediate and not unexpected.

Nor was Dutch's. "The Metamorphs."

"Same," Asher said.

"Are you sure? Earlier, you seemed awfully interested in learning Elf magic," Dutch pointed out.

"Hey, I didn't know telekinesis was an Elf trick," Asher protested.

Dutch's expression softened. "I have a book that outlines all the Tribes and the spells that belong to them. You can borrow it."

Asher patted him on the back. "Thanks, bro."

Ms. Featherdale cut in front of us. "Run along, girls. No time for socializing." She set down the box of decorative vases she was holding. "I need those tablecloths bleached today, or my whole Summit schedule is ruined."

"We're done with the tablecloths," Kylie told her.

"Really?" Her eyes scrunched together. "So fast?"

I nodded. "We are fast workers."

"And fast gossips," Asher muttered.

Kylie stuck out her tongue at him when Ms. Featherdale looked down at her phone screen. He returned the gesture.

"I have just the job for you two." Ms. Featherdale glanced up. "I need someone to deal with the caterer. That disagreeable man just messaged me to say he's decided to change the menu!"

"Did he say why?" I asked.

"Some nonsense about how he knows more about food than a mere human." Her jaw clenched up. "I spent weeks painstakingly designing a menu to accommodate the demanding needs of our guests from all across the Many Realms. Many of the delegates are quite particular about which foods they will consent to put in their mouths. Prince Fenris, especially."

"Prince Fenris?" I looked at Kylie, but she only shrugged. It seemed she didn't know who he was either.

"Crown prince of the vampires, and by all accounts, the most spoiled, arrogant, unpleasant man in all the Many Realms," Ms. Featherdale sighed. "If the food isn't exactly to his specifications, he will walk out of the Summit. And take a large part of the Court with him!" She grabbed a leather binder off the table. "Go talk some sense into the caterer." She shoved the binder into my hands. "Instill fear into his heart if that's what it takes."

"Uh…ok."

"I'll go with them," Bronte told Ms. Featherdale, joining us. "I have lots of experience getting event vendors to behave."

Ms. Featherdale expelled a sigh of relief. "Go." She retrieved the binder from me and handed it to Bronte.

I was trying really hard not to feel offended by that.

"Get this fixed," she told Bronte.

"Don't worry. I will." Bronte's blue eyes twinkled with confidence. "Let's get going, girls."

"Oh, and stop by the florist to check on the flower arrangements for the Summit!" Ms. Featherdale called out as we left the ballroom.

As soon as we stepped outside, we saw them. Watchers. They were everywhere.

"What are they doing?" I wondered, watching the scary soldiers patrol the streets in their scary black body armor.

"Looking for Rebels," Kylie whispered. "The General thinks the Rebels were behind the attack at the Tournament yesterday."

Of course he did. The General really hated the Rebels. But he loved blaming them for things.

"I heard it on the news," Kylie continued. "They interviewed the General this morning. He had a whole speech prepared, warning the public about the ‘dangerous Rebels endangering the city'." Kylie nibbled on her lip. "I don't know. The Rebels saved all those innocent people from the bandits at the mall on Thursday. So why would they turn around the next day and decide to attack innocent people?" She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Leaving the Knights to become Rebels doesn't make any sense," Bronte said. "They're criminals, Ky. They're unpredictable and unstable."

"I guess you watched the General's interview on TV too. He said something just like that."

Bronte replied, "Ok, so maybe the General isn't the nicest guy on the planet?—"

Kylie snorted.

"But he's right about this," said Bronte. "Even Eris agrees. Remember what she said? ‘Being a Knight comes with a lot of rules that we must follow. We can't do everything we want to. And we shouldn't either. The Rebels don't subscribe to that philosophy. And that makes them dangerous.' Eris isn't wrong about that. And neither is the General."

I frowned. "What else did the General say in the interview?"

"That his Watchers will continue to patrol the streets until they've apprehended every last Rebel," Kylie told me. "He's determined to catch them all before the meeting of the Court. You heard Ms. Featherdale. Gaia needs everything to go perfectly at the meeting, and the General thinks that means no Rebels."

Raised voices echoed down the street, rushing toward us like a torrent of floodwater after a dam had broken. The iron gates of the Black Obelisk burst open, and a fresh wave of Watchers poured into the Emporium. Dozens of them. Filling the streets. The stampede was as loud as a drum in my ears. The crowd split and fled in terror.

I should have fled too. But it was too late now. I was already being pulled in.