They faced each other and tread water, which was as warm as a just-drawn bath. Her arm brushed Ander’s thigh. His foot pedaled into her knee. Her guilt grazed his, then got lost in the dark water. Eureka didn’t know how to stay connected and not sink.

“Don’t mind me.” Solon smirked at them from the edge of the pool.

Beyond Solon, Eureka saw a curved staircase built into the stone. Cat and the twins leapt from the bottom step and ran toward her. Dad’s winged bower hovered at the foot of the stairs.

She waved the orchid to signal she was okay. She was still adjusting to the idea that she wasn’t about to die.

The cave was darker down here, undecorated. Only a few stalagmite candelabra lit the yawning space, but Eureka sensed there was more to this underground cistern than she could see from the pool.

A spray of water erupted behind Eureka. She lunged forward.

“Just a little blowhole,” Solon said. “It’s not another test. Why don’t you calm down and emerge? We have much to discuss.”

Ander pulled himself out of the pool and turned to help Eureka. She was soaking; he was as dry as ever.

Solon tossed her a robe identical to his. She put it on over her wet clothes and wrung the water from her ponytail. Cat and the twins embraced her—her friend high up on her body, her siblings low.

“So. You passed,” Solon said. He glanced at Ander. “With only some cheating.”

Ander chested up against Solon. “She was almost killed.”

Solon stumbled backward, amused. “Some would say that’s the point. I’m sure you know who I mean.” He turned back to Eureka. “Your friend is mad because when I realized he was using his Zephyr to aid you, I used mine to disengage his. That’s when you fell.” He used two fingers to mimic the flailing legs of a falling girl and whistled the sound of her descent.

“You wanted me to fall?” Eureka asked.

“Want is a strong word. Mostly, I don’t want a Seedbearer paraded into my home.”

“I’m not a Seedbearer anymore,” Ander said. “My name is Ander. Like you, I turned my back—”

Solon scowled and shook his head impatiently. “Once a Seedbearer, always a Seedbearer. It is the most unfortunate aspect of a vividly unfortunate existence. And you are nothing like me.” He paused. “Ander? After Leander?”

“Yes.”

“Rather pretentious, isn’t it?” Solon asked. “Have you had your Passage yet?”

Ander nodded. “I was eighteen in February.”

Eureka’s gaze darted between the two boys, trying to keep up. All of this was news to her. She imagined Ander’s birthday, months ago in Lafayette. Whom had he celebrated with? What kind of cake did he like? And what was a Passage?

“Whom did you replace?” Solon asked Ander. “Wait,don’t tell me, I won’t get stuck at that dysfunction junction just because some kid walks into my cave like a bad joke.”

Eureka threw the orchid, striking Solon in the face. “Here’s your flower, ass**le.”

“Blow it out your blowhole,” Cat muttered.

Solon caught the orchid by its stem. He brought it to his chest and patted its petals. “How much time will you buy me?” he asked the flower.

When he looked up at Eureka, an eerie smile haunted his face. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I might as well get used to it. Privacy and dignity are temporary states.”

“Water, water, everyone?” Solon held out a copper carafe when they were back upstairs and dry, seated around his fire. He’d distributed alpaca blankets, which they all wrapped around their shoulders.

Cat flexed her feet in a pair of Solon’s moccasins.

“These things will be the death of me,” she’d told one of the skulls on the wall when she’d slipped off her red stilettos and hooked their heels through its eye sockets. “You feel me, right?”

Dad’s moth-wing bower had begun to sag during Eureka’s adventure with the orchid. The moths were dying. When the bower drooped all the way to the ground it unfurled, looking as magical as a drab gray quilt. As Solon and Ander carried Dad closer to the fire and propped him up on a mountain of pillows, Eureka fingered the bower’s strange material. The moths’ wings were changing, from thin, chalky sheets to dust.

She took the carafe from Solon, aching to down its contents in a few gulps. She held it to her father’s lips.

He drank weakly. His dry throat made scraping noises as he strained to swallow. When he seemed too tired to drink any more he turned his eyes on Eureka. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

She wiped the corner of his mouth. “We take care of each other.”

He tried to smile. “You look so much like your mother, but …”

“But what?”

Dad rarely brought up Diana. Eureka knew he was tired, but she wanted to stay in the moment, to keep him there with her. She wanted to learn as much as she could about the love that made her.

“But you’re stronger.”

Eureka was amazed. Diana had been the strongest person she knew.

“You aren’t afraid to falter,” Dad said, “or to be around others when they falter. That takes strength that Diana never had.”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” Eureka said.

Dad touched her cheek. “Everybody’s got a choice.”

Solon, who had disappeared behind a hanging rug that must have led to a back room, returned carrying a wooden tray of tall ceramic mugs. “I also have prosecco, if you’d prefer. I do.”