Page 148 of The Art of Exiley

“What did you see?” Alex asks.

“I didn’t understand most of it.”

Alex shakes his head. “Blood prophecies are always cryptic. Record every detail you can remember. You’ll need to speak with Chorus.”

“Are you suggesting that Journey Castle has the Sight?” Bloche asks.

“If by consuming her blood, Raphael experienced prophecy, then it would seem so.”

Bloche turns to me and asks, “Have you ever had premonitions or visions?”

My mind is a whirl. Of course I haven’t had visions!

Except I have.The dream.

“Once,” I say.

Alex glares at me intently, and with a note of accusation he says, “Receiving prophecy involves a ritual that requires extensive training. But unreliable and cryptic premonitions can be induced with Kishuf—the corruption of nature with dark arts, like blood magic. Did you consume blood before your vision?”

“Of course not.” Except… “Oh. Simon—he fell on me, and his cheek cut on my teeth.” I cringe at the memory of blood filling my mouth. “But it was totally an accident.”

Alex stands and stalks over to me. He looks down, straight into my eyes. His gaze is cold, regal, commanding. “Who are you?” he asks.

For a moment I don’t answer. Then I say the name that once brought me pride. “My name is Ada Isabella Castle, from the Daughters of Castile, steward to the histories of the Families of the Holy Inquisition.” I swallow and continue. “I was sent here to gather information for the Families. But I now renounce that task.” Well, at least partially. “From now on I want to help protect the Makers of Genesis.”

Prince Alex shakes his head. “But whoareyou?” he presses. He’s asking a question that I have been unconsciously asking myself for some time now.

While I’ve been finally getting to know myself—my heart, my beliefs, my values—I’ve had doubt cast on everything I thought I knew about my upbringing and who I’d always thought my family was.

“I’m not sure how to answer your question,” I say sincerely. “But I can tell you this. My father is a musician named Joseph Levi.”

Alex’s eyes go wide, and I hear sharp intakes of breath from Bloche andRafe. The room seems to go still for a silent moment, and then everything is moving faster than my heartbeat.

Alex grabs Rafe by the shoulders and says intently, “You must tell no one. Not even Father.”

“We have to inform Chorus,” Bloche says, standing.

Alex shakes his head in frustration. “She probably already knows. She hasn’t wanted to meet the girl. She’s been saying it’s not yet time.” He shakes his head again, his long hair shifting like a living thing. “I wish she would…” He trails off and looks at me again. “Yosef was not a Prophet himself, but his grandmother was.” His grandmother, meaning my great-grandmother. Was a Prophet. “It would make sense that his child would inherit the Sight.” Alex advances on me. The intensity has not left his eyes. “You must never ingest blood to induce a blood prophecy. You were lucky this time, but I cannot stress how dangerous Kishuf is. When the time is right, Chorus will train you to develop your Sight properly using the ritual stones. Kishuf will never be necessary.” He strokes his beard. “By the Conductor, the child of Yosef HaLevi… How old are you?” he asks me.

“Eighteen.”

“And your father is still alive?”

When I nod, Alex silently mutters what I assume to be a prayer as he runs his hands through his long hair. I remember what Michael had said about how it was unknown whether Yosef HaLevi had perished during the Fall of Naiot.

No one in the Families has ever heard of Naiot. My mother was married to my father for ten years, and even she had never heard of it.

I’d reread theTestament of Choruscountless times since my conversation with Michael that made me realize my father had some kind of connection to the village. But as I take in what they’re saying about him having been from a family of prophets, I start to understand that the people who died inNaiot were myfamily. A lot about my father makes more sense now––his emotional distance and moodiness. I can’t imagine how it must have been for him to have learned what happened to his home and family, to have lived when they had not, and to not have even be able to talk about their existence and properly mourn. My heart breaks for him.

Suddenly Alex’s eyes widen as he assesses me. He takes note of my long hair, which hasn’t been properly cut in months, and in a soft voice he asks, “Have you taken the vow?”

I shake my head. I know what he’s asking. I’d been suspecting it about myself ever since I’d learned that my father was a Nazir and what that meant, and I’d remembered the way Dad always insisted on keeping my hair trimmed.

“I will train you myself,” Alex says.

Bloche sits back down. His voice is choked as he asks, “She is also a Nazir?”

“I think she amplified me twice,” Rafe answers.

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