As we near Ansan, it occurs to me that Sehun has been driving this entire time without using a GPS. And I can see in the dashboard that this car is definitely equipped with the technology. I mean, the car knows when it's raining and automatically outs in its wipers. It heats and cools your back and your and tells you when other cars and objects are too close. The only it doesn't do is provide a solution to having to step for bathroom breaks. Although I wouldn't be surprised if they figure out how to work that into the seats of the next model.

"How do you know your way around Suwon?" I ask. Since our conversation this morning, we've been carefully avoiding the subject of the Ferryman, because if I let myself focus on it, my thoughts tailspin into doom and gloom.

Sehun shrugs. Just heard if driving through Gyeonggi, some memorizing of maps, and then when I need to, I look things up in my atlas.

I half laughs. "In a car with a perfectly good navigation system."

"Cell phones, computers, navigation systems all make it easy for someone to trace where you've been," he says. "We've actually removed some of the microchips in this vehicle, so if someone did know this car belonged to my Family, they wouldn't be able to track us."

"Right," I say. "That makes sense." My weeks at the Academy immersed me in Old World traditional Strategia and I haven't spent much time thinking about what the Families might be able to do witch tech.

"Kyungsoo isn't Junho, you know," Sehun says, and it takes me a second to process the non sequitur.

"The blacksmith," I say, my thoughts edging dangerously close to the Ferryman.

"The blacksmith," Sehun repeats. And his sudden subject change makes me think he's been thinking about Kyungsoo for a while. "What I mean is, what you did with Junho won't won't with Kyungsoo. Junho is pretty decent for a Tiger, and despite his gruff manner he adheres to traditional diplomacy. Kyungsoo, not so much. He's said to be ruthless and a legendary fighter. Some of the people who have tried to negotiate with him have ended up dead. If he weren't the only lead we have, I wouldn't risk it."

Of course Junho is a Tiger. I inwardly groan. How could I expect anything other than manipulation and double-dealing? "I thought you never met Kyungsoo?" I say.

"I haven't. But his reputation preceded him. Anyone who kills other Strategia during routine trades and then managed to resist numerous retaliation attempts become well known," Sehun says, and by the tension in his jaw I can tell he's uncomfortable with the situation.

I shift in my seat, turning away from the rolling hills and forests to get a better look at Sehun. "If Kyungsoo is so different from Junho, how do we negotiate with him?"

"I'm going to try to entice him ahhh a solid intelligence trade, one that doesn't reveal anything about us personally or our plans," Sehun says. "But go be truthful, I'm not sure how well it's going to work. I've only ever made straightforward deals. Someone like Kyungsoo would be assigned to a more experienced Family member."

"Right. Of course," I say. Sehun is so capable and smart that I forget sometimes that he's still a student at the Academy and doesn't know everything.

"What you do, do not tell Kyungsoo who you are," Sehun continues. "There's a bounty on your father's head. It's not usual that we would be asking about him. But Kyungsoo, can't know the real reason. He's not an ally. As far as I know, he's no one's ally."

My stomach flips at the mention of the bounty. Now that my head isn't pounding and I can think more clearly, my anxiety over appa has increased. I exhale, trying to stay focused on the present and not to jump to what-ifs, but of course I can't. "What do I do if he starts questioning me and I don't have answers? Won't he know there's something odd about my lack of Strategia knowledge?"

"Yes," Sehun says. "But that doesn't mean you can't play silence to your advantage. Look at Sejeong. She never says anything she doesn't want to and yet you would never doubt her."

"True," I say, and fidget with the edge of my pink sweater, cursing my precious clothing aversion to black clothing, which would let me blend a little better. Can I really pull off a cool and calm Sejeong, who is basically the exact opposite of my effusive, over-caring self?

Sehun turns down a single-lane dirt road that runs between two large fields; the car bounces on the uneven surface. "Ready?" he asks, and I realize he's slowing down.

I want to tell him no, that I may never be ready, but I don't have the luxury of saying that, not if I have any hope of finding Appa. "Ready," I say, trying to mask any hint of heat in my voice.

Sehun drives us past a classic style home, white with a framework of black timber's, and stops in front of a small stone barn with a wooden sign hanging in front. It reads: BLACKSMITH. The gray stones composing the walls are streamed with soot.

Sehun is out of the cat and to my door before I realize that I'm just staring and not moving. I would slap myself in the cheek like they do in movies, but if Kyungsoo has a view of our car right now, that would be ten kinds of stupid. So instead, I step out into the cold with feigned confidence, and Sehun and I walk out into the stone barn. I try to picture the agents in the British spy movies Jisoo lives and channel their cool composure.

Sehun opens one of the large wooden doors and the hinges whine. Inside is a scene plucked from a different country and era-a fire roaring in a large fireplace, old wooden workbenches, an antique iron tools hanging from the walls. In the center of the room a average height guy with a bald head wearing a black apron is striking a red-hot horseshoe with a hammer. For a moment, not at all the swarthy old killer I pictured in my mind, and the benign nature of hammering a horseshoe is disorienting.

"Shop's closed," he says without looking up at us, his voice rough between clangs.

Sehun doesn't try to explain who we are or why we're here. Instead, he advances with a measured pace and stops about ten feet away from Kyungsoo, leaning casually against a workbench, and waits.

After what feels like an excruciating minute, Kyungsoo stops hammering and looks up the moment he lays eyes on me, I want to look away. He's ruggedly handsome but with a cruel doe eyes, like the villain prince in a movie.

"Well?" He says, and there's an unforgiving harshness to his tone. Behind him on the wall I catch a sight of a faded wooden sign that reads BAL DES ARDENTS. I only know a handful of French words, but I'm fairly certain ardents means "fiery" or something similar, which is not only suits smithy work, but also his demeanor.

"We've come to make a trade," Sehun says, like he doesn't have a care in the world. Although I know him well enough bu now to know it's a front. "a trade for information about Namjoon."

"I'm busy," Kyungsoo says in an uninterested tone.

"So busy that you'll pass up an opportunity to trade with a Wolf?" Sehun says, maintaining his calm. "From what I hear, you don't get many of us out here since you beheaded Hyoyeon."

I gulp. Sehun said Kyungsoo killed people, not that he beheaded someone from his Family.

Kyungsoo grits his teeth and wipes his forehead with the dirty towel draped over his shoulder. He shifts his eyes to me and once agin my instinct is to run. "And you?"

Between the coals in the forge and roaring fire, the barn is warm and I'm overheating in my coat. "If you don't know who I am, then you don't need to know," I saw in my best imitation-Sejeong voice, and I'm actually shocked by how convincing I sound.

Kyungsoo grunts. "Leave it to an Eagle to be self-righteous."

I stare back at him, neither confirming nor denying his assessment, and I catch the faintest slimmer of approval in Sehun's eyes.

"And leave it to a Jackal to try to get information through insults," Sehun says, and I take a better look at Kyungsoo.

Of course this guy is from the same Family as Rosé-mercurial, dangerous, and probably good at everything.

Kyungsoo shrugs. "Let me save you the effort of sweet-talking me, because I couldn't care less about your decorum and rules. I do have information on Namjoon, but as you're not the first to ask, there are very few things I'm willing to trade. And I'm not going to stand here listening to you cry about how I didn't accept your terms. I'd rather kill you and use you for fertilizer in my back field."

My pulse quickens. It's obvious by his expression and body language that he's not trying to intimidate us. He means every word.

Sehun appears just as relaxed as he did a minute ago, but the look in his eyes has become sharper and more serious. "In that case, I'll trade you everything you know about Namjoon in exchange for a drop-off location of Owl-Tiger communication."

For a couple of seconds, Kyungsoo is silent. He looks from Sehun to me and back again. I hold my breath.

Kyungsoo drops his hammering tool on the work table with a loud clang. "Which one?"

I exhale, relieved that he didn't say no."The one in Ansan," Sehun says, and I can hear in his voice that he knows his offer is a good one. But there's also something strained about his eyes, like it physically pains him to give up this information.

Kyungsoo grunts. "Convenient."

"Absolutely," Sehun says.

Kyungsoo grips the work table in front of him with calluses, sooty hands. "This is a trade, not a guessing game. Out with it."

I suppose that's one way to say you accept terms.

The slightest smile appears on Sehun's lips. "The drop-off location is just off the Royal Road."

"Namjoon's in Inchon," Kyungsoo snaps back, and my chest feels like it might explode. In hein is huge and finding someone who doesn't want to be found will be more than challenging, but just the same I cling to his words. Appa is close.

"Nearby or inside Cheonin," Sehun says.

Kyungsoo nods, like so far the information he's getting is acceptable. "Taecyeon's son-in-law was murdered a month ago in Ansan," he says in exchange.

"One of the ghost tour guides is an Owl. She facilitates the drop-off," Sehun says, and their interaction reminds me of a Ping-Pong match.

"Namjoon is suspected of killing him," Kyungsoo says, and I fight to keep my eyes from widening in shock.

A month ago? No way. Appa was home in Jeongsan . . . My shoulders tense as I remember his quiet behavior, concerned looks, and frequent trips to visit Uncle Jin. He couldn't be involved. Appa wouldn't kill someone . . . would he? I relax my body just as Kyungsoo glances at me.

"Find the tour guide and you find the drop-off location. She switches the placement of it every time," Sehun says, and there is a beat.

I look from Sehun to Kyungsoo and they are both oddly still, that is until Kyungsoo turns to meet my eyes.

Kyungsoo wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. "I have to say, I think I got a lot more than I gave in that trade."

"Then you should be grateful for your good luck," Sehun says, and there's an edge to his tone that wasn't there before.

"See, even that response," Kyungsoo says, gesturing at Sehun, "makes me wonder . . ."

He and Sehun stare at each other, neither of their faces giving anything away.

"If you're part of the head Wolf Family," Kyungsoo says, suddenly more interested in the conversation, "and I would say you most certainly are a close relative, given your resemblance to your Family members and the access to the information you just traded. If that's the case, you should already know half of what I just told you. But you don't, do you?"

"Now I believe you're wasting our time," Sehun says, and removes his arm from here he was leaning against the workbench.

"Which means you must be out of society . . . Maybe at school?" Kyungsoo's eyes brighten. "And what I want to know is, what are two Academy brats doing trading with me?" The strange thing is, he doesn't look at Sehun when he speaks, but instead keeps his eyes trained on me. His voice has shifted from its agressive clip to a smooth cadence; he actually appears to be enjoying himself. His posture has relaxed, and as he wipes more sweat from his forehead, I can almost picture him in clean clothes, schmoozing at a cocktail party. And charming Kyungsoo is way more terrifying than disgruntled Kyungsoo,

"I wouldn't congratulate yourself in surmising that we're young,"Sehun says, not missing a beat and seemingly not put off by Kyungsoo's prying. "That's nothing a person with average eyesight wouldn't pick up."

"I'm not asking you," Kyungsoo says. "I'm asking her." His eyes focus on me so intently that my skin crawls, and I hope he can't tell.

"Ask anything you want," I say with my best Sejeong-like composure. "Doesn't mean I'm going to answer you."

"Mmm. Right," Kyungsoo says, never moving from the sport where he was working; yet somehow I can't help but  feel like he's cornered me. "A Wolf pup and an Eagle eaglet looking for Kim Namjoon. If I were less perceptive I might simply assume you were after the bounty. But no, I don't think that's quite accurate. Is it?" His last words come out with force, like he already knows the answer.

Kim? A wave of disorientation hits me and I rack my brain. Kim is nationally Kim origin that's gone global over many years, which means "gold" and "thick-headed." Which is the opposite meaning of our last name-or what I thought was our last name. Bae means "clearing" and "free." Dis my parents choose it on purpose to separate themselves from their Families?

Sehun nods toward the door and I snap back into the moment, taking a few steps in the directions of the exit.

Kyungsoo whistles long and loud, and before we've  made it ten feet, four large black dogs appear at the barn door. Oh . I look back at Kyungsoo, who's still staring at me.

"This is personal," he says, scanning my face. Kyungsoo doesn't bother phrasing his assumption like a question. "And it's not about revenge."

Sehun hovers by my side, looking from Kyungsoo to the dogs and back again. And he sighs like this is all very tedious, which is basically the last response I would expect. "Either make a move or get you dogs out of our way."

I assess the barn in a sweeping glance. Almost everything in it is a potential weapon-knives, swords, tools, oil for quenching steel. And just about every surface is hard and sharp-angled. There's no way to get into a fight here without getting hurt. There's just too much room for error and too many unpredictable factors.

"If this is personal," Kyungsoo continues, still focused on me, "then you must know Namjoon. And you're too young to know him from his childhood in Gyeonggi, so it's only logical to conclude that you know him from this time in hiding."

It's suddenly so hot that I catch my breath. He's inching toward the very piece of information Sehun said he mustn't discover.

"Right," I say, "because you know everything. Why even bother making trades when you're clearly omniscient?"

Kyungsoo's focus doesn't waver. "And then there was your emotional response to consider-fear and concern. Now, why would be concerned for Namjoon?" A small smile appears on his lips, but his eyes are just as dangerous as they were when we first walked in. "If you were with him in hiding ... given your age ..." He pauses. "Do you know who you look remarkable like?"

Damn it all! I look to Sehun for help, and he's already in motion, pulling his jacket sleeve down over his hand and grabbing one of the long metal rods out of the coals. It blazes red-hot at the end. Before I can even take a breath, the dogs start for me, teeth bared.

One of them lunges for my calves, his jaws snapping in the air, as I throw myself atop a tall worktable just in time. The four dogs circle below me, their lips pulled back, growling.

Kyungsoo scoops up his hammer and chucks it toward Sehun, who manages to deflect it with the metal rod he's holding. By the time Sehun recovers his stance, Kyungsoo has grabbed a sword off the wall behind him. It's immediately obvious that Sehun's metal rod, which appears to be an unfinished fire iron or a farm tool, won't stand up to Kyungsoo's long blade.

I glance at the knife in my boot, but Sehun is positioned between me and Kyungsoo, leaving me with no clear shot and a good chance of giving up my weapon for no reason. Just then, one of the dogs jumps at the table, its paws scraping the wood as it strains to reach my ankles.

I look down at the table, where there is nothing but an old rag, and then side to side, assessing my surroundings. There's one workstation nearby that has some metal tools on it and a slightly better angle for throwing, but it's definitely not close enough to jump to. And there a few benches nearby, but they're too low-the dogs would get ahold of me in a second. I frown at the dogs. Defending myself from terrible people is one thing, but defending myself from dogs is a completely different story.

Kyungsoo takes a swing at Sehun. Sehun manages to block the strike, but I can see the strain on his face as he tries to compensate for his inadequate weapon. My heartbeat throbs in my temples and for a moment I just stand there, frozen, trapped, and no solution in sight. Another dog jumps for me, snapping its jaws viciously and slinging a thin streak of saliva onto my boot.

Think, Suzy, think. I look again at the nearby workstation. If I could get to the tools, I might be able to make use of them alongside my knife. Although the way Sehun and Kyungsoo are positioned, and given their distance from me, I'm not confident it's the right choice. I look up at the ceiling, but there's nothing but bare crossbeams.

Appa's advice about how to surprise someone with my boot dagger rings in my thoughts. Just because there isn't a clear shot doesn't mean you can't win. There is always a work-around and a way to surprise your opponent. It just takes creativity and a lack of self-imposed boundaries.

Kyungsoo takes another swing, and even though Sehun parries, Kyungsoo's stronger blade comes comes only inches from slicing Sehun's ribs. I survey my surroundings again-table with metal tools that's too far to jump to, exposed crossbeams above my head, low benches that will leave me in the dogs' reach. My thoughts are fragmented, the pressure of the situation making me indecisive.

Kyungsoo swings, forcing Sehun backward a step toward the burning-hot surface. A few more swings like that and Sehun will get pushed into the blazing coals. Blazing coals . . . And suddenly, an idea dawns on me. I snatch up the old rag near my feet and shove it in my jeans pocket.

I crouch down and jump straight up as hard as I can, reaching for one of the timbers. My right hand gets a grip on the crossbeams, but my left hand doesn't and I drop back down on the table, nearly losing my balance. I look at the barking dogs, which have surrounded the table, ready for me to misstep so they can rip me to shreds. I take a deep breath, relax my knees, and jump again. Gotcha!

I readjust my grip for a better hold and pull myself along the crossbeam as fast as possible, knowing all too well from climbing trees that there's only so long my arms alone will support me. I don't let myself look down, but the growling and the snapping sound of the dogs' jaws are right below me. I shinny all the way to the wall and immediately brace my feet against the stones, relieved to take some of the weight from my strained arms and hands. I study the wall for a path to the nearby crossbeams that leads to the other workbench. My eyes fall on a carved wooden coatrack against the wall. It's a thin foothold and not ideal, but it appears sturdy enough to hold my weight. I reach my leg out toward it, hoping I can grip it with my toes, but it's just out of my reach.

.

If I can't get to the coatrack, there's nothing I can do but climb back to my useless worktable or attempt to fight off the dogs with my boot dagger. From behind me I hear Sehun grunt and my forehead beads with sweat. I'm running out of time to make a decision before Kyungsoo slices up Sehun or I'm forced to give in to the strain of bracing myself against the wall. I have no choice but to risk jumping, I tell myself, because it feels better than telling myself This is a terrible plan that will likely end in me being ripped limb from limb.

I take a deep breath, make my plea to the climbing gods, and remove my feet from the wall, swing them them like a pendulum. One shot. I have one shot.

I build up momentum, my legs reaching farther and farther with each swing until I've hit capacity. It's now or never, I think, my arms already starting to ache. I focus on the wooden coatrack secured to the wall. And even though I really don't want to, I let go of the crossbeam. My boot catches the edge of the coatrack, and I use my momentum to launch myself forward toward the next beam. My right hand gets a grip on the rough wood, but once again my left hand slips. For a terrifying second I dangle by four fingers over a sea of snapping jaws.

It takes every ounce of my strength to get my left hand around the beam and pull myself as fast as humanly possible to the other worktable. I drop down onto it, my hands burning and my breathing labored.

Kyungsoo swings at Sehun, once again forcing him a step backward.

I pull the old rag out of my pocket, stick it in my mouth, and tear it into strips. I snatch up a few of the metal tools and tie a single strip around each one. From my coat, I dig out the box of matches Sehun and I used in the Jeongsan barn and light one of the cloth strips. I fo a three-sixty, scouting all of the potentially flammable materials in the room.

I pull back my arm, aiming for a spare apron draped over a stack of logs, and throw the tool like i would if it were a knife. My aim isn't what it wold be like with a blade, but it's not terrible, either, and the fiery cloth hits its mark. Next, I aim for a cushioned chair against the far wall, and then for a wooden bucket.

Sehun and Kyungsoo have their weapons up, pushing against each other. Sehun being a little bit taller than Kyungsoo, but he's bluffer than Sehun; however they both seem to be evenly matched in strength, but Kyungsoo's weapon advantage slides Sehun backward again until he's only inches from the flames behind him.

"Thirty more seconds and this whole shop will go up in flames!" I yell to Kyungsoo. Sehun once told me that Strategia rarely live in rural areas, that they vastly prefer cities where they can blend in, affect politics, and maneuver leaders. So if Kyungsoo is living out here making horseshoes, it's by choice. And it doesn't take a genius to guess to look around this carefully arranged shop with its handcrafted ironwork to know that it's his passion.

Two seconds tick by and Kyungsoo doesn't react. Have I completely misread him? Sehun's foot slides back another inch. I tie the last piece of cloth around the end of a long antique hammer and light it.

"You want to keep doing what you're doing? Fine. This one's going to the dog's beds." I pull back my arm and land a clean shot into a pile of straw with a blanket on top. It ignites almost instantly.

Sehun and Kyungsoo have their weapons up near their throats, pushing against each other. But Kyungsoo steals a glance sideways to glimpse what I've done. The flash of anger in his eyes reassures me that I was right when I judged the shop's importance to him. And as Kyungsoo turns his head again to more full assess the flames, Sehun takes advantage of Kyungsoo's momentary distraction. Sehun grabs the hot end of his metal rod with his bare hands, overpowering Kyungsoo and burning his cheek. The pain from touching the smoldering metal is obvious in Sehun's expression and I cringe right along with him. But it works.

Kyungsoo growls and takes two step backward, breaking their locked stance and allowing Sehun to jump away from the furnace. But Kyungsoo doesn't touch his face to check the burn like I wold expect; instead his eyes flit to a fire extinguisher on the far wall. He looks back at Sehun, his jaw locked, and I can see the conflict written all over him. It only takes a beat for him to give up on Sehun and run for the fire extinguisher. 

For a split second Sehun doesn't move; just like Kyungsoo, it seems he doesn't want to walk away from the fight. But his hesitation vanishes when he shifts his focus on me. He scoops up the flaming apron with the tip of the iron rod and waves it forcefully at the dogs. The back up, giving me room to jump down to the floor. And we don't waste a moment weaving a path to the exit. We bolt out of the barn doors and close them behind us, running full-speed for the car. My fingers practically slip off the door handle from the momentum.

We dive into our seats, slamming the car doors. As Sehun turns the key and the engine revs to life, the barn doors reopens, reaving a wild-looking Kyungsoo and a cloud of smoke. The dogs sprint toward the car and Sehun slams his foot on the gas pedal, sending us screeching out of the driveway and down the bumpy road so quickly that if I were still feeling sick I would definitely puke.

I look at Sehun, who doesn't appear relieved like I would expect.

"You're hurt, Sehun," I say, catching sight of an angry red mark on his hand.

He focuses on shifting gears aggressively, checking his mirrors to see if Kyungsoo is chasing us. "Everything we do from this point forward will be known."

"You mean Kyungsoo-"

"I mean Kyungsoo will make sure that we're followed. He knows we're going to Incheon. He knows what we're after and why. And he may be able to guess the places we might go. We'll be constantly looking over our shoulders," he says, not hiding his frustration.

I cringe, remembering all the information I must revealed during that conversation. "Sehun, look, I know I screwed up -"

Now he does look at me. "Screwed up? Suzy, you just saved us. Without you we'd both be dead. I might be a good fighter, but so was he and he had the weapon advantage. I screwed up. I've traded information before, but never with someone as skilled and vicious as Kyungsoo. I should have known things might go south and planned accordingly. This is my fault."

"Oh no. Don't you dare," I say. "You're not taking the blame for this. You're here because of me, not because you suddenly got the urge to take on the Tigers in some epic strategy battle. And don't try to tell me that the piece of information you gave to Kyungsoo was't a big deal. He looked like he'd struck gold."

Instead of a rebuttal, a small, amused smile appears on Sehun's lips. "You have no idea how angry my Family will be when they find out what I've traded. It took my cousin the better part of a year to get that intel in the first place."

"You had no choice," I say, dropping my intensity to a lighter tone.

The  look Sehun gives me is surprisingly appreciative. "If only you could give my Family a lesson in forgiveness."

I laugh, surprised. "Forgiveness? That's definitely not what I would call what I'm feeling. Gratitude is more like it."

"Let's just hope things go smoother in Ansan," he says, and he flashes me a smile, but I can still see worry lingering in his expression. If I had just held off Kyungsoo like he did, I would be feeling wicked proud of myself, not nitpicking my performance. But then I was raise by appa, who Jisoo used to joke was my personal cheerleading team, and Sehun was not.

I want to smile back at him, but I can't stop remembering what Kyungsoo said about appa. "Sehun, who was the guy that my dad is suspected of killing?"

Sehun nods, like he knew his question was coming. "Taecyeon's son-in-law," he says, and by his serious tone I know this must be a big deal.

"Yeah. Is that . . . Taemin's dad?" I ask, a heavy feeling in my chest. As much as I dislike Taemin, I would never wish that upon him, and what's more, I can't imagine appa doing it.

"His stepfather," Sehun says. "And the Regent."

"And what is a regent exactly?" I ask.

Sehun glances at me. "It's still incredible to me how much you don't know about Strategia. You're so much like us, and yet so completely different. What you did with the fire in Kyungsoo's smithy . . . I would have thrown a knife, any Strategia with with your throwing skills would have."

"Are you saying I should have?" I ask.

"I'm saying what you did was brilliant. You not only assess how greatly Kyungsoo values his smithy, but your attack created a diversion instead of a fight," he says, and I beam at the compliment.

We stop at a red light, and as his eyes linger on me, there is a touch of awe in his expression that surprises me. He glances at my lips, and my cheeks grow warm. After a couple of long seconds, the light turns green and his eyes return to the road.

Sehun clears his throat. "Regent . . .It's a title borrowed from the old royal court system, denoting the person who would exercise ruling power if Taecyeon were ever absent or incapacitated. It's a holdover from the Dynasties and it's nothing more than an honorably title in most Families, which are set up to rule by council. But the Tigers don't have a council. It's just Taecyeon and the Regent."

"The thing is," I say, "I don't think appa killed him."

"Are you certain?" Sehun says, and I can see that he's not convinced.

"Postive. Unless the Regent was in the Gangwon province, which is mostly consists of 'farms' and 'low-income' families?" I say like it's a question.

Sehun shakes his head. "Possible, but Kyungsoo said he was killed in Ansan."

I nod. "Kyungsoo also said he died a month ago, but appa hasn't left out town since early fall. Actually, that's accurate; he did take a handful of day tips to see my uncle before he was murdered, but nothing long enough to make a secret trip to Gyeonggi."

"That's odd," Sehun says, considering the situation. "Strategia don't often get accused of crimes they didn't commit."

"And why would someone like Kyungsoo know that appa was being accused?" I ask.

Sehun frown in concentration. "I'm not certain. That's not information I'd think he'd have access to, unless the Strategia trackers are whispering about the Ferryman, which I supposed is possible." He falls silent again.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I say, positive there's more he's not saying.

"I'm trying to make sense of and contextualize the accusation," Sehun says. "I've never met the Regent. But from everything I've heard, he was nearly as terrible as Taecyeon. The rumor is that Taecyeon strong-armed Taemin's mother into the marriage ten years ago, shortly after which Taecyeon appointed Baekhyun as Regent, a double insult because the title should have gone to Taemin's mother, who is rumored to be a brilliant strategist. According to my Family, there are plenty of people who would have wanted him dead. But that doesn't explain why the murder was pinned on your father. He isn't an easy target to blame, considering that until very recently no one even knew he was alive."

"Taemin's mother," I repeat, and it occurs to me that after I found out Yoo was my uncle, I never thought to ask if appa had any other siblings. I think I subconsciously didn't want to know.

"Kim Taeyeon, also known as 'The Rose'," Sehun says.

Rose. I swallow and my heart speeds up. "My middle name is Rose," I say, unsure what to make of the fact that I might be named for someone who I not only didn't know existed, but who is part of a Family like the Tigers.

Sehun must hear the hesitancy in my voice because he glances at me and all he says is: "Hmm."

"'Hmm' is right," I say, and we're both silent for a few second, trying to untangle this bizarre information.

"And so Taecyeon chose Baekhyun over his own daughter even though she's a great strategist?" I said, miffed.

"He did," Sehun says in a tone that tells me he agrees with me judgement. "The thing that's odd is that no one at the Academy has been talking about Baekhyun's death. Kyungsoo was right when he said we should have already known. The murder of the Tiger Regent is big news. Very big news."

"It only happened a month ago, though. Isn't communication to the Academy monitored and delayed?" I say.

"It is. But Taemin would have been told, the same way you were told when your uncle was killed," Sehun says. "And that is exactly the type of news that spreads quickly. But Taemin protected it, keeping it from the rest of the school."

"Maybe he didn't want everyone gossiping about it?" I suggest, because that's what I would want. But then I remember something Sejeong said during one of our midnight challenges: We always expect that people will react the way we do-that when we hit them they'll hit back, or that when we help them, they'll be grateful-and when they don't behave the way we think they will, we're surprised. "No, scratch that. You're right. There must have been a reason he didn't want everyone to know."

"A specific political reason," Sehun says. "One that may have an impact on our conflict with the Tiger Family, especially if your father was falsely accused."

"You told me earlier that because the Tiger attacks on my family have been spread out over the years, something must have instigated this last one. Do you think this is it? Do you think that's why appa sent me to the Academy, because he knew he was accused and the Tigers would be coming for him?" I ask.

"Likely," Sehun says, but his voice betrays his doubt.

And again we drop into silence and I stare out the window, analyzing our newfound information.

"There's something else . . .," I say, turning back toward Sehun. "We got information from Kyungsoo, but we didn't find out where we were supposed to go next."

"Incheon," Sehun says.

"Right, but it doesn't match appa's previous clues," I say.

Sehun glances at me, waiting for me to continue.

I bit my lip, working my way through the message we've received thus far. "The first clue we got was in the photo collage in my room . . . and it pointed to an exact spot in the woods," I say. "That message pointed us to Junho-to a specific person. And then from Junho we were told to go speak to Kyungsoo, which is another specific clue. But from Kyungsoo we learned that appa is accused of killing the Regent and is in Incheon? Incheon is specific enough. That doesn't match the pattern of appa's other clues."

"True," Sehun says, slowly, like he's considering my words.

"Was there something we missed in there? Something Kyungsoo said or didn't say?" I ask.

"I'm playing the conversation back, but there's nothing that I would flag as having double meaning. Was there anything he said that you noticed, possibly something symbolic or personal?"

I shake my head slowly. "Nothing."

"About about something in the barn?" Sehun asks.

"Not really," I say, pausing to re-create the smithy in my mind. "We have tools at home, but none of them are related to blacksmith work. And the other objects were pretty nonspecific-workbenches, fireplace, swords . . ." My voice trails off and I make eye contact with Sehun. "Wait . . . there was that sign in French -"

"Bal des Ardents," Sehun says. "Ball of Burning Men. It was a masquerade ball in 1393 hosted by the king at the time where four costumed dancers caught fire and died."

"A masquerade ball," I say quickly, my voice lightening with an excited uptick. "We had one every summer in Jeongsan."

"And you think your father might use a masquerade ball as a coded message to you?" Sehun asks.

"Maybe," I say. "It matches the other clues in that it wouldn't mean anything to anyone but me." I pause to consider what it all mean. "The masquerade ball was one of the few town events that we consistently participated in. The ball were always themed and every year for the past eight years or so appa and I were in charge of decorations. We would build them and the art teacher at my high school would paint them."

The corners of Sehun's mouth turn up in a smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. I mean, it isn't anything we haven't said before," he says. "It's just that your upbringing was so wildly different than mine. I can't imagine making dance decorations with my parents, unless we were installing surveillance devices in them. And even then, someone else would make them and we would just supervise."

I smile, too. "It was actually a lot of fun."

"Exactly my point," he says, and we share a look.

I find myself momentarily grateful for all the time I spent with appa in our sleepy town, even if it makes giving it up more painful. "My question is, how did Appa know Kyungsoo had that sign in his smithy?"

"It's entirely possible Kyungsoo's had it for a long time," Sehun says. "Your father could have made a trip to Suwon in recent years and seen it."

I try to picture appa negotiating with someone as awful as Kyungsoo, and I just can't. "The thing is, appa almsot never lost Jeongsan, much less traveled across the country," I say. "The only long trips he ever took were with his rock-climbing buddies from college." But the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how naïve I've been. "Omo . . . rock-climbing buddies who I've never met, who would takes trips to remote areas and places without cell reception, or so appa claimed." I look at Sehun. "How did I never question any of this before?"

Sehun gives me a sympathetic smile, like even though he doesn't dully understand the adjustment I'm going through, he knows it's not easy.

"So the Jeongsan masquerade ball," I say, focusing back on the message. "Now we just need to figure out what message he was trying to send."

"Where was your ball held?" Sehun asks.

"Mark's Inn, just outside of the center of town," I say. "In a big refurbished barn. All of the town functions were held there. He hosted weddings and school dances and so on."

Sehun looks like he's concentrating. "Sejeong and I have been to a handful of Strategia event with our parents in Incheon but none of the, were held in barns, I'm afraid."

"How about events held in an inn?" I ask.

"There are a few Strategia hotels that have events spaces in Incheon, but those properties are all TIger-run," Sehun says with a worry line in his forehead. "If your father is pointing us toward a Strategia hotel, I'm not sure how we'd find out if they were hosting anything resembling a masquerade ball."

I rub my temple. "What about a trade with someone who might be in the know about Tiger events?"

"Maybe . . .," he says, and his voice trails off. "Although digging for information on Tiger-run properties will be tricky. I'm not sure traditional trade is even possible."

I study him, certain he's running through ideas that he's not saying out loud. "You said a traditional trade won't work . . . is there a nontraditional one?"

Sehun glances at me, but he doesn't respond right away.

A few more seconds tick by in silence. "Sehun?" I press.

"Wellll, that's the thing," Sehun says, and I have a feeling I'm not going to like whatever is making him hesitate. "There is a place in Incheon where unallied Strategia socialize."

"'Unallied'?" I ask.

"They're Strategia who take jobs for hire, who work with multiple Families instead of just one. My Family  hires unallied Strategia for missions occasionally. But approaching them is . . . complex," Sehun says.

"Complex how?" I ask.

"Because I don't know how to get in touch with them other than to go to their pub . . . which is exactly the type of place someone like the Ferryman might be," he says. "And if not him, then others who may be hunting your father."

I exhale. "When you said these unallied Strategia take jobs for hire, what exactly do you mean?" I ask.

"Let's call them extra hands for special circumstances," he says. "Smugglers. Thieves. But most of them are mercenaries and bounty hunters." By the look on Sehun's face, I can tell that even though he doesn't think going to their pub is safe, it's also the only way.