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“We’ve moved up your appointment. The others are teleporting in,” the woman interrupted crisply. “Get your house in order, Einar. She is eavesdropping.”
The screen went abruptly blank. Taylor glanced up, saw the hallway camera pointed in her direction and cursed under her breath. So, that was the woman on the other side of all this surveillance. She wished she had gotten a better look.
Einar stood in his doorway, glaring at her, his face a cold mask. He had changed out of his coffee-stained sweater and into an immaculately tailored gray suit. Taylor felt suddenly underdressed in her pajamas and borrowed leather coat.
“Are we going to prom?” she asked.
“Get dressed,” he said simply. “We’re leaving.”
“Who was that woman? Your mean British nanny?”
“You may get to meet her one day, if things go well. She’s a visionary.”
“Oh, wow, do you promise?” Taylor replied with a snort. She locked eyes with Einar, probing for weaknesses like Isabela would. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You screwed up in California. I heard her. Made a big mess. They’re going to liquidate you.”
“Not me,” Einar replied with a meaningful look.
“Yeah, right. I’m a healer. Sounds like I’m more valuable than you.” She made a point of addressing the camera overhead. “You’d rather have me than this fussy screwup, right?”
Einar took a sharp step towards her. “Stop it.”
“They don’t care about you,” Taylor said quietly. “Or me. But the Academy could protect us. They’ll be looking for me . . .”
Einar laughed in her face. She’d been close to getting a reaction out of him, but had pushed too hard in the wrong direction.
“I told you. Get dressed,” Einar said through his teeth.
Taylor’s muscles tensed. Her heart beat faster, stomach rolling over. She was suddenly afraid. Taylor took a step backwards, towards her room. She better do what he said or else—
No. She noticed the way Einar looked at her. Concentrated on her. This was his Legacy again. He was manipulating her emotions. Knowing that didn’t make the fear any easier to resist.
“Stop—stop it,” she said.
“Go,” he ordered.
Taylor’s palms started to sweat and her knees almost buckled. She gritted her teeth, but couldn’t keep her body from reacting. With a yelp, she ran for her room, slamming the door behind her as if there were a monster on her heels. In a way, she thought, there was.
The fear didn’t subside until she began changing into the clothes Freyja had brought for her that morning. An austere peach-colored blouse and a long black skirt. The outfit was stuffy and didn’t fit her exactly right. She had to roll up the sleeves. There was also a long sash of dark silk that she didn’t know what to do with.
She came back out of her room and found Einar still waiting outside. The fear was gone now, resentment in its place.
“You’re an asshole,” she said.
Einar frowned. He held out his hand and took the silk from her. Then, before Taylor could stop him, he stepped in close and began loosely wrapping the scarf around her head. Taylor had to resist the urge to punch him in the mouth. Once her head was properly covered, Einar stepped back to appreciate his work.
“There’s a dress code where we’re going,” he said.
“And where is that?”
“Abu Dhabi.”
“What? Seriously?”
Einar headed downstairs, forcing Taylor to chase after him. Freyja was still wrapped in the curtains, keeping a close eye on the men parked outside. Taylor glanced in her direction and grimaced. Einar ignored the young girl completely, marching towards the back deck.
“What about her?” Taylor asked.
“Who?”
“Freyja. You know, your other prisoner.”
“She stays here,” he replied. “If you have an idea that you might do something stupid, imagine her dying gruesomely.”
Einar shoved open the back door and strode across his frost-covered deck. Taylor hurried after him, grateful that Freyja was out of earshot.
“Isn’t that going to happen anyway?” she asked. “I heard that Foundation lady use the word ‘liquidate.’”
Einar paused and turned to look at her. “That isn’t going to happen.”
“But if it does . . .” Taylor waved towards the front yard. “Those guys outside will kill her, right?”
Before he responded, Einar glanced over Taylor’s head at the camera mounted over his back door. It seemed to Taylor he wasn’t sure how much he should say.
“That won’t happen,” Einar repeated. “We’re too valuable.”
He didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Einar crossed through the rock garden and approached the wooden enclosure that contained the Loralite stone. Taylor watched over his shoulder as he punched in the four-digit access code, making no effort to hide it.
“All right,” Taylor said resignedly. “So, what are we doing in Abu Dhabi?”
“You and the others will be healing the prince of one of the royal families,” Einar replied, pushing the wooden gate open.
Taylor blinked. So many questions. “What others?” she asked first.
“You make the fourth healer the Foundation has acquired.”
“Four,” Taylor repeated. She was the only healer enrolled at the Academy. “You’ve kidnapped four . . .”
As they approached the Loralite, the chunk of cobalt stone pulsed in greeting, the glow coming and going like a heartbeat.
“The prince has leukemia,” Einar continued matter-of-factly. “The others have so far been unsuccessful in healing him. Hopefully, the addition of your power will be enough.” He put his hand on the Loralite stone, then hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “It has to be enough,” he said, “or this entire operation will be judged a failure.”
Liquidate. The word echoed in Taylor’s mind and a sense of nervousness fluttered in her belly. She thought of the cancer patient who she had failed to heal back in California. Would failure here mean punishment? Death for Freyja? Some other unimaginable consequence? Her mind worked feverishly—she needed to save Freyja and escape—but she saw no outs. All she could do was continue to play this game.
Einar held out his hand impatiently. “Coming?”
Taylor made a face, wanting to be sure Einar saw her look of revulsion, before taking his hand.
The world spun and reality bent. Taylor had been unconscious when they
last teleported, so this was her first experience with the alien process. It felt like her body dissolved—not in an unpleasant way—but a gentle coming apart, as if in a dream. The only thing she could still feel was Einar’s hand, like an anchor that dragged her towards their destination. She felt dizzy, a speck of dirt blown in the wind. For a moment, her vision was filled with darkness penetrated by thousands of pinpricks of bright blue lights. Other Loralite stones, other locations. The cobalt fireflies swirled by her and then—
The heat hit Taylor all at once. That might have been the most disorienting part—to have the chill of Iceland wiped away so quickly, replaced with a dry heat that made Taylor immediately sweaty. It felt like she was baking. She shielded her eyes from the sun. Unlike the clouded-over Iceland, here the sun hung red and blistering in the sky. Taylor found herself surprisingly grateful for the scarf wrapped around her head.
She and Einar stood in the courtyard of a genuine palace. All around her were statues of lions and women, these gilded with what she assumed was real gold. A trio of burbling fountains flanked by fastidiously groomed palm trees complemented the cobblestone path in front of them. Taylor gazed up, slightly in awe, at the four-story building—blowing silk curtains from thrown-open windows, cupolas and crenellations covered in ancient-looking oil paintings, balconies filled with men holding machine guns.
The guards gave Taylor pause. There were dozens of them, both up high and along the edge of the courtyard, all identically dressed in long-sleeved white thobes and mirrored sunglasses. A small army. Taylor swallowed; she’d been around too many armed groups of men recently.
“They don’t entirely trust our kind here,” Einar said quietly, following Taylor’s gaze. “The prince’s father—”
“The king?” Taylor asked.
“Sheikh, actually,” Einar replied. “He is a generous supporter of the Foundation. But not all of his brothers and nephews see our . . . utility.” Einar adjusted his tie. “Behave. Remember Freyja.”
Taylor sighed, looking around at all the guns. She glanced back at the Loralite stone. Making a move here would probably get her killed. She followed Einar down the cobblestone path, towards the palace entrance.
