Rosé, Lisa, Sehun, and I sit around a rustic dining room tabled in Vietnamese food that Rosé made from scratch. Not only it is delicious, but she wore an apron while cooking and used all kinds of culinary jargon that I've never heard before as she bossed Lisa around the kitchen. I've been side-eyeing her ever since. I really don't know what to make of her and her deeply layered personality. Even Sehun seemed impressed.

"You guys are completely useless," Rosé says, and pushes her plate away from her, which I'm assuming means she's done eating and someone else should clear.

"Ah yes, we're the problem," Sehun retorts. "Meanwhile you've been spouting utter brilliance all morning."

"I know," Rosé says, and sighs theatrically. "The burdens I must bear."

We're all feeling the pressure of time. We went to bed last night at four a.m. after talking in delirious circles for hours with the hope that everything would make more sense if we slept on it. But here are at lunch without a complete plan and only one before the ball.

The only person who looks relaxed is Lisa, who's eaten twice as much as the rest of us and is smiling faintly at Rosé's drama.

"Even if we can sneak onto the property, the only way this is going to work," Sehun says, leaning forward, "is if we have a way to distract or disorient a couple of guards. Knocking them unconscious is out of the question. Their absence would immediately be noticed and it would be a clear indicator that there were uninvited guests. And imitating them is also out of the question. We run too much risk of being recognized."

"We're talking about well-trained Strategia guards and hired thugs. Anything we do will be spotted for what it is and probably be just as obvious as knocking out a couple of guards," Rosé says. "At least if we take out the guards we buy ourselves ten minutes or so."

"Ten minutes if we're lucky," Sehun says. "And we don't even know what we're looking in there. We may go through all the effort of getting in just to have to bolt before we find whatever Suzy's dad wanted her to see."

I shift nervously in my seat at the thought of being this close to appa but with no clear idea how to get to him.

"And we're back to square effing one," Rosé says, sitting back in her chair, exasperated. "If we keep this up, we're not going to the ball at all."

"Cinderella," I say reflexively.

Rosé grunts. "If only we had a fairy godmother or, I don't know, Professor Hisakawa to brew us up a concoction."

I freeze, her words triggering the memory of a near forgotten conversation. "Jungkook!" I blurt out.

"I have no idea what you mean," Rosé says. "But I'm definitely intrigued by a plan where Jungkook is the fairy godmother."

"Actually, he might be," I say, unsure how much I can say and still keep my word to him. "I went to see Jungkook before Sehun and I left the Academy to ask him-actually, more like implore him-to help in any way he could."

Sehun looks at me questioningly.

I don't meet his eyes, feeling guilty that I didn't find a time to tell him. "Jungkook gave me the contact information for an apothecary here in Incheon, but -"

Sehun opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, Rosé smacks the table. "Are you kidding me? You have a contact for an Eagle apothecary? Why didn't you lead with this information?"

"Jungkook made me given him my word that I wouldn't share the contact with anyone," I say, briefly stealing a look at Sehun.

"Extenuating circumstances," Rosé says, like that's a reason. "Besides being able to get us something to sneak into the ball, an apothecary is without a doubt one of the best resources for acquiring something that will kill Taecyeon."

"No, Rosé," I say. "I'm not breaking Jungkook's trust and betraying Eagle Family secrets."

"First of all, Jungkook doesn't even like you," Rosé fires back. "Second, you're not even really an Eagle. And third, you have no idea how to handle an interaction with an apothecary. They are secret-holders of the Strategia. They take no and they only help who they want to help. If you go by yourself, you won't last five minutes."

Sehun frowns, and it's clearly by his expression that he doesn't like this situation in the least. "Even if you go in by yourself," he says, "we should know your location and be nearby. As much as I hate to agree with her, Rosé's right that apothecaries are tricky. They are as likely to hurt you as to help you."

For a second I'm silent. "I get that you're trying to make sure I'm safe, but I gave my word to Jungkook and I'm not going back on it."

Rosé starts to talk, but Lisa cuts her off. "Rosé, you want to go because apothecaries are rare and a valuable resource. And believe me, I understand the curiosity." She looks momentarily at me and then Sehun. "I want to be an apothecary. But taking advantage of Jungkook's information will end badly, and will break any chance Suzy has of gaining Jungkook's trust in the future-trust she may very much need. And as much trouble as Suzy might have going on her own, it will be nearly impossible will all of us. Do you truly believe that an Eagle apothecary will hand out information and poison to a Wolf, a Jackal, and a Fox?"

Rosé grumbles and Sehun looks down at his plate, clearly frustrated.

"Besides," Lisa says, getting up from the table and crossing the room, "we don't have much time. If Suzy is going to go, she needs to do it today." Lisa disappears into the living room and comes back holding the phone book. She drops it on the table in front of me. "Wherever the apothecary is, you should be able to get the address in there."

Sehun stands, too.

"And where are you going?" Rosé asks, looking put out that she didn't get her way.

"To buy more burner phones," Sehun says, heading for his jacket. "Suzy needs a way to reach us."

My stomach does a fast flip. I was so busy thinking about how I couldn't break my word to Jungkook that the reality of the situation hadn't hit me-I'm going alone.

➶ ⱠɆ₮'₴ ⱧɄ₦₮ ⱧɆⱤ ➴

I exit the taxi, which looks straight out of a Korean drama, and pull my hood up around my face. I know it's absurd, given everything else that's going on, but there was something exhilarating about riding in the backseat of a Incheon/Seoul cab and paying with my own won. However, the moment I turn the corner, my thrill fades. Before me is a row of proud old buildings with elegantly store with a hand-painted sign that reads ACCIPITRIDAE FAMILIA just like Jungkook said it would.

I scan the sidewalk, where people exit a bakery with their freshly baked bread and hot coffees. They move with purpose, securing their scarves tightly around their necks and behind their heads against the wind. But instead of reveling in the enthusiastic shoppers making festive purchases, I study them, assessing each one for a potential threat. If there's an apothecary on this block, there could certainly be other Strategia as well.

I walk quickly to the store and bend my head like the other shoppers, even though what I want to do is scour my surroundings. But if there are other Strategia here, my direct gaze will be a dead giveaway. So instead, I stop in front of the store window, giving it a thoughtful once-over like I'm just here for a browse.

Unlike the antiques store in my town, where everything is piled on top of everything else, these window displays are artful and accented with twinkling white lights for the holidays. I wouldn't be surprised if it's strictly collector's and auction house items-things so fragile and expensive that you would never bring children here for fear they would break something that costs more than your car.

A shopper carrying bulging bags filled with colorfully wrapped presents walks around me and I realize I've been hesitating near the entrance. I take a deep breath, repeat what I need to say in my head one more time, and push the door open.

The inside of the store is full of whimsy and blue. It's not the dark style of the Wolves, but the precision is the same. To my left is a counter made of rustic wood and decorated with a quill pen, a book of sales receipts, and a bell. Behind it is a thin, pretty guy with a semi-mid parting who looks like he's barely twenty. I frown. The apothecary couldn't be that young, could he? After watching him for a few moments, I turn away and almost walk smack into a middle-aged woman in a floor-length royal blue dress. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled into a high bun, her posture is impeccable, and her dark eyes are even more penetrating than Sehun's.

My stomach drops like I'm free-falling.

She looks from me to the guy behind the counter, and when her eyes settle on me again, I get the sense that she's already formed an opinion. "Can I help you find something?" she says, and her voice is kind of deep and husky.

I nod my head and completely forget what I'm supposed to say. Something about her is hypnotizing and intimidating, knocking me off-kilter.

"Would you like to tell me what it is, or would you like me to show you our recent acquisitions?" the woman says, and there is something hard and dangerous in her look, as if she's daring me to make a wrong move.

My heart thuds and I my dry lips, desperately searching for me line. I break eye contact with her, and in me peripheral vision notice the guy from the counter watching us. I study what I'm guessing is a medieval confessional turned bookshelf, decorated with dried blue flowers and old books. Just a brief break from her intense look and my memory comes flooding back.

"Aut scuto aut in scuto," I say quietly, repeating the Latin phrase Jungkook gave me, meaning "either with shield or on shield," and it comes out sounding awkward.

"I see," she says after a moment, and her words are clipped.

She stares at me in a way that makes me afraid to move, like if I blink wrong, she'll tell me she can't help me and I that need to leave.

"It's possible we have what you're looking for in the back," she says, and turns around.

My chest deflates with relief, but the moment is fleeting. As she silently weaves her way through the furniture displays, I find myself resisting following her. Something about this woman gives me an unbalanced feeling, like losing a handhold while climbing.

We make our way to the back of the store, where the apothecary takes a ring of old-fashioned keys out of her pocket and unlocks a wooden door. I know this is why I came here, to talk to her in private, but I'm not thrilled about disappearing behind a locked door with her.

The apothecary holds the door open and gestures impatiently for me to go through. And I do. I step into a long hallway that's lit by two dim scones. The walls have wainscoting on the bottom and above that royal-blue wallpaper with a patterned velvet overlay, making the dark hallway darker. I instinctively look over my shoulder, just in time to see the apothecary locking the door behind us. I touch the outside of my coat pocket where my phone is and take a breath, reassuring myself that I can text for help if I need to. In fact I can text from inside my pocket, a skill I mastered in school when I wanted to send Jisoo notes without getting my phone taken away.

"Head straight to the door all the way at the end," the apothecary says, and my self-soothing falls flat at the farther I get from the door. It's akin to the feeling I have in dark basements, like Im being followed and I should probably run.

I turn the cold brass knob on the door the apothecary indicated and the hinges whine as it opens. Intermittent oil lamps made of stained glass hang from the ceiling alongside drying herbs and flowers, some of which I recognize from my plant obsession as a kid. The walls are lined with wrought iron shelves overflowing with glass vials and jars. A deeply set fireplace blazes and a series of small pots hang within it. Gnarled wooden tables are covered with every type of wonder, from crystals to ornate daggers.

For a brief moment my fear is eclipsed by amazement and I can absolutely see why Lisa would want to learn this trade. But my awed is short-lived because the apothecary brushes past me, her long blue skirt grazing my leg, and that simple contact nearly sends me shooting in the air.

The apothecary moves to one of the tables, which is laden with half-filled glass bottles and piles of herbs. She busies herself with some kind of sorting process and doesn't say a word.

I walk up to the table, standing on the opposite side of it careful not to touch anything. She looks up, and the moment we make eye contact, I swallow.

"I'd love to purchase a few products from you," I say, and my voice feels out of place in the quiet isolated room.

She doesn't say a word.

"Uh . . . something to disorient, if you have it, and a strong poison," I say, and my tone winds up sounding more like a question than a request.

She doesn't move; in fact she's so still that she appears frozen. I take a breath. Sehun, Rosé, and Lisa told me to keep it simple, to make my request and to be gracious.

Seconds tick by, and my instinct is to talk, to fill the quiet with anything other than this anxiety-inducing silence.

"I would really appreciate it," I finally say, hoping that the sound of my voice will snap her out of her creepily still posture. But my words seem to disappear into the stillness.

And again, the seconds tick by.

"Is there something you want me to say that I'm not saying?" I ask, and clamp my mouth shut. What in the heck was that? It came out before I could even consider it. "I have money. A stupid amount, really, and I was told to give you as much as you want, promise you more if you need it. Speaking of stupid amounts, have you taken a taxi recently? Cool experience, I'll grant you that, but my god is it pricey?"

My hand flies to my mouth. Holy hell, what nonsense is spewing from my face? I try to back up, but I stumble, and the floor sloshes below me like it was made of liquid instead of wood.

"Oh no." Panic grips my stomach and I look up at the apothecary. "What did you do to me?" I demand.

A smile appears on her previously unmoving face. "Interesting," she says to herself, and makes her way around the table toward me. I grab at my pocket, my motor control almost nonexistent, and on my third try I manage to get my hand in it. But to my great dismay, nothing is inside. I pull my hand out, examining my empty palm, and there on my wrist is a smear of something oily. When she brushed past me . . . she must have . . . how did I not notice? I rub clumsily at the oil, but the swimming feeling only worsens.

I turn toward the door, my balance off, and I stumble into another one of her tables, banging my knee into the leg. I right myself, my head bobbing into an upright position. Between me and the door is the apothecary.

"You're either dim-witted to think you could come to my shop and use a private Family code, or you're desperate. Which one are you? Dim-witted or desperate?" She looks at me like she might eat me.

I grip the table. Jungkook told me she might be willing to help me if she thought I was some distant Eagle cousin, but that's clearly no the case. She knows I'm an outsider.

"Desperate," I say, my mouth once again moving without my permission. Why would I tell her that? "I need your help to find my appa." Oh god. Oh god. What am I saying? Did she give me some kind of truth serum? I look again at the door, considering making a run for it, but I don't know if my legs will carry me, much less if I can maneuver around her to reach the door.

She raises an eyebrow. "I would forget about leaving if I were you. You will be here as long as I so choose-if you leave at all, that is?"

My eyes widen, my heart racing. I'm trapped behind two heavy doors at the end of a long hallway, incapacitated and spouting secrets, with no phone. No one is coming to help me because no one knows where I am, and I doubt anyone would hear me if I screamed.

"Now tell me," she says as I struggled to maintain my balance and my hold on the table. "Who is your father?"

I fight as hard as I can, resisting her and the awful drug she's given me.

Appa laughs, which only makes me scowl harder at the ground where he knocked my wooden practice sword out of my hands.

"Want to go again?" he asks.

"Whatever," I grumble under my breath, and pickup my sword with a huff.

Appa gives me a knowing look. "If you don't like losing, then fencing isn't for you. Because you're never going to win all the time. And needing to win is only going to make you unhappy . . . like right now."

"Your sword is bigger than mine," I say, and stab at the leaves.

"You're ten. Of course my sword is bigger," he says matter-of-factly.

"And they're not even real. They're wood," I say, furthering my nonexplanation for why I'm doing so badly.

"Well, that you can be grateful for. You're not ready for a real sword," he says, and my hands tightens around the wooden hilt in frustration.

"I am ready," I say defiantly.

"No, you're really not. And from the way you're acting right now, I don't think you're ready for any sword. Even a wooden one."

I roll my eyes and he hits my blade with his, sending it flying again. I open my mouth to protest, but before I can get a word out, he picks up my practice sword and starts walking toward our house.

"Hey!" I call after him, running to catch up. "Give that back!"

"When you're ready," he says in the calm voice that drives me crazy.

"How will I ever be ready if you won't give me my sword?" I say.

He stops and turns to face me. "I"m not referring to your skill. You could have the best fencing skills in the world and your attitude would sink you."

I frown.

"Do you remember two weeks ago when you got into an argument with Jisoo at school and came home in a rotten mood?" he asks. "You marched off into the woods with your knives. And what happened?"

I eye him warily, not sure where he's going with this. "I threw badly and wound up crying."

"Right," he says, his voice easing a bit. "Not because your skill suddenly changed, but because your emotions did. You hate to be bad at anything, Soo. And even more so, you hate to lose. But being bad at something and losing aren't awful the way you think they are and they don't mean what you think they mean. They're human. They're how you learn. And most importantly, they give you freedom from always being a perfect winner."

I stare at him, unconvinced. "And being a perfect winner is a bad thing?"

"Actually, it is if you can't not be a perfect winner. It's a trap where you set yourself up to be constantly disappointed. The bravest people I know, the most skilled people I know, all lose and are bad at things. But they own it. And because they can own it, people trust them." He gives me a pointed look. "It's a form of power to be able to embrace yourself in all the ways you are and all the ways you're not."

I strain against the urge to tell her who appa is. I can't imagine this will end well for me if she finds out he's a Tiger.

"Appa is a Tiger," I blurt out the moment I think it. "Damn it!" I yell, and smack the table, nearly losing my balance and toppling to the floor.

"A Tiger," she says, in air, and there is a dangerous tone in her voice. "You thought I would help a Tiger." She pulls a slender dagger off her belt.

I take a stumbling step backward, trying to think my way through the disorientation. I now deeply regret not telling Sehun and Rosé where I was going. "I can't believe I protected your location." And now I've just said that out loud. I'm so frustrated, I could scream.

"Meaning what? That no one knows where you are?" she says, the corners of pulling up in a terrifying smile.

"Exactly," I respond, getting more upset by the second.

"Come to think of it," she says, looking around her room, "there are ingredients I'm running low on." She gestures her glass bottles. "You may do nicely in that regard."

For a second, I don't move; I can't even think how to react. My mind wants to reject her words and convince myself that she didn't say she wanted to us me for tinctures or poisons or whatever sick things she makes in here. My eyes flit to the copious jars of dried ingredients on her shelves; I'm suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. I look back at the apothecary, who runs her finger along the edge of her dagger thoughtfully.

Sweat beads along my hairline. "Look," I say, desperately trying to focus on something to say that doesn't reveal appa. "I get why you're not leaping at the chance to help me."

"I'm not helping you," she says, correcting me.

"But you're wrong," I say, and shake my head, angry with myself.

"I find that exceedingly unlikely," she says, taking a step forward.

"Will you stop?" I say. "Will you just stop coming at me with that dagger for one minute? I can't think and I can't tell you what I need to tell you."

"You not being able to think isn't my problem," she says, unmoved by my ramblings.

I brace myself, trying to navigate my thoughts past my fear. "You're wrong that it's not worth helping me," I repeat, trying to gain my bearings.

"Of that, I am not convinced," she says.

"I'm not who you think I am. I'm an Eagle," I say, my brain fighting itself to come up with anything doesn't sound like it was concocted by a first grader. Whatever she gave me took away my ability to filter and reason.

"Someone who has a Tiger father is not an Eagle," she says.

"My eomma was an Eagle. If you look at me closely, you will see that," I say quickly, and immediately redirect my thoughts away from eomma before I reveal anything more.

The apothecary pulls a vial out of a pouch on her belt and uncorks it.

My eyes widen. "And . . . a-and . . .," I stammer, inching along the table, trying to put distance between us. "What I'm doing is what the Eagles have been attempting to do for decades. I'm trying to stop the Tigers, stop Taecyeon from using his power to hurt the rest of Strategia."

She raises a brow.

I grip the table, aware that every second counts, and aware that if it comes to a fight, in my current state I will most certainly lose. "The Latin phrase I said to you, the secret code, is specifically about helping those who are fighting the Tigers. It means don't surrender; never give up. With a code like that, I have to believe that stopping the Tigers matters to you."

She shakes her head like the conversation is growing tiresome, and she dips the tip of her blade in the bottle. "As it turns out, I'm stopping a Tiger right now."

Sweat drips down my temple. What if she paralyzes me before she cuts me up? What if I'm awake for the whole process?

"Tigers. Taeyceon. Fighting," I say quickly, trying to get my thoughts and mouth moving in the right direction.

She corks the bottle and puts it back on her belt, returning her focused gaze to me. She takes a step forward, and I once again lose my train of thought.

For a brief second I look around me, searching for a weapon or something to block her path, but even that slight twist of my head makes me wobble. I eye a set of shelves that are ten feet away. If I jump, I could potentially grab a hold of them and pull them down before she reaches me. Of course, I might get pinned beneath them. And even if I could get past the shelves with my stumbling movements, I seriously doubt that I could get through both locked doors and into the store before she reached me and slit my throat.

"I wouldn't if I were you," she says in a harsh tone, following my eyes.

I bite down hard, shaking my head, so frustrated I could cry. I return my eyes to the apothecary, who is steadily approaching. "Fine. Okay. You win. You win. I can't think my way out of this and you've made it impossible for me to control my own body. So here I am, stuck with you and that awful dagger. And maybe -"

A small smile appears on her lips. "It's shocking how simple your thoughts are. Base, even. I could expect more from a six-year-old Strategia."

I ignore her insult. "Judge me all you want. But at least I'm not a hypocrite. At least I don't use a code that suggests I'm fighting the Tigers when what I'm really doing is getting in the way of those daring enough to try."

Her eyes narrow and she jabs the point of the dagger under my chin.

But I don't back down.

"When I found out I was Strategia, I hated it. The last thing I wanted was to be part of this power-hungry, murderous secret society. But then there was something else, something about Strategia that made me reconsider-that they're repeating itself and to avoid the types of tragedies they know can happen. And so here I am looking for my appa, when I realized something . . . I can't go back. I can't ever have the life I used to have before I knew I was a Strategia. But I do get to make a choice, a choice about what kind of Strategia I want to be. And even though I don't know much, and even if I'm a 'base' like you say, I know that Taecyeon is a tragedy worth stopping. And despite what sentiments some Strategia preach, no one is actively opposing him. But I am."

She pauses, her dagger still pressed into my skin, and her expression shifts. For the first time I get the sense that I've said something that caught her attention.

"What makes you think you can stop Taecyeon?" she says. "When you can't even save yourself from me?"

I grip on the wood with all my might, trying not to move, lest she decide to slice me open. "Because everything and everyone I love in this world depends on it."

She grunts, and for a long couple of seconds she looks like she's trying to decide something. We stare at each other, each moment stretching out in unbearable silence.

The suddenly she pulls back the dagger, sheathing it on her belt.

I don't dare speak, for the fear that anything additional might make her decide to chop me up for parts.

She pulls a slender vial from a pouch. "Drink this," she says, with no explanation.

 I stare at the vial, hesitate.

"I would drink it if I were you, unless you plan on crawling out of here," she says in an impatient tone.

I take a deep breath, cross my fingers, and chug the shot of acidic-tasting liquid. It burns my throat all the way down and I gag and cough like my throat is on fire, wondering if she's really poisoned me this time. But almost instantly I stop feeling so wobbly. My legs stiffen under me and the fog in my head clears. I no longer feel the urge to blabber my every thought at her.

She crosses the room with swift steps, grabbing a couple of items from her shelves. She places a small glass jar about the lip of a lip gloss container on the edge of her worktable. "Drunken Confessions," she says. "The oil I used on you. One dab on the skin should about an hour."

Suddenly I feel upside down. She's not killing me and she's selling me herbs?" I nod, instead of speaking, afraid she might change her mind.

The apothecary drops two thin glass vials into a small burlap pouch and ties it. "Two darts tipped with lightning poison." She grabs a glass vial the size of a pill bottle from her worktable, placing it with the other items. "And Angels' Dream. A drop or two in food or on a blade will put a large man to sleep for hours." She slaps my phone down next to the poison.

I'm positive my face reflects my shock. "I . . . th-thank you," I manage, my mind spinning. "How much do I owe you?"

The apothecary levels her gaze on me as I pull out my wallet. "I'm not accepting money."

"I can get you more if you-" I start.

"No," she says, cutting me off.

I stay very still, not sure what she's doing or why she's doing it.

"Bring me Yuri's golden bear-claw necklace and we will call it even," she says.

I stare at her, confused. Yuri . . . It's the female form of the Japanese name Yuta, meaning "dark." But that doesn't tell me anything. The only thing I can surmise is that this Yuri is from the Eagle Family and that she must be prominent enough that I would know her by name.

"I don't have time to go to the Americas right now," I say,  not sure how to navgiate this request and confident that it's a bad idea to tell her I don't know who Yuri is. I stare at the bottles and frown. I'm so close.

She looks at the clock hanging on her wall. "Well, then, lucky for you I happen to know she's dining at Sheraton Restaurant," she says. "And if you're the Eagle you claim to be,  doing what you claim to be doing, you should have no problem convincing her that it's a worthy cause."

If she's going so far as to tell me where Yuri is, she must want that necklace badly. And if she wants it badly, then it's valuable or important . . . which means it will be nearly impossible to get. I exhale loudly.

"Now get out," she says, and tosses me my phone, and I practically run for the door.