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“Hmm.” The red Knight’s vague response contradicted her piercing stare.

“Enigmatic as always, Nala.” Ainsley looked at me, her hands windmilling a pair of pretty purple clubs that matched her armor perfectly. I had a feeling those ‘clubs’ were just one of many forms her WAND took. “I like your conviction, Savannah.”

I was heartened that at least a few of the Knights nodded in agreement.

“But will conviction be enough?” said the final Knight in the room.

His armor was a dark, rusty orange. Lots of tiny vials were fixed to the brown leather straps that crisscrossed his chest plate. Each vial contained a swirling, sparkling liquid of a different color. And attached to his belt were a few rippled balls that kind of looked like grenades—but I really hoped weren’t grenades.

“Well?” The orange Knight arched his dark brows at me. “What do you think, Savannah Winters?” His eyes were as black as a starless night. “Will conviction be enough?”

I tried my best not to wither under his obsidian gaze.

Apparently, I wasn’t doing a very good job because Eris chided the orange Knight, “Stop it, Altair. You’re freaking her out.”

He gave his hand a dismissive wave. “She’ll be fine. Kato said she doesn’t snap under pressure.” His midnight stare cut past her to land on me. “Well? Will conviction be enough?”

“Enough for what?” My voice was a dry rasp.

“Enough for you to become a Knight.” When he took another step toward me, the sunlight streaming through the window hit his black hair, lighting it up with auburn highlights. “Enough for you to make a difference in the world.”

I cleared my throat. “Conviction is always good,” I said, reaching for the shreds of my own fleeing confidence. The orange Knight’s stare was seriously unnerving. “But that alone won’t be enough to change the world. I will need help: friends and allies. And to gain them, I need to prove myself a worthy Knight.”

“And what makes someone a worthy Knight?” Altair asked.

I considered the question. “A good Knight does the right thing because it’s right, not to score points.” I stole a peek at Kato. “After all, motive is more important than merit.”

A slight smile cracked the orange Knight’s serious face. His gaze flitted to Kato, and his small smile upgraded to a gruff chuckle. “Spoken like a true white Knight.”

Kato dipped his head in acknowledgment and set his hand over his white chest plate. Unlike the others, his armor was made from metal, not leather. But it wasn’t his armor’s material that made him stand out; it was its color. I’d never seen—or even heard of—a white Knight before.

“Yes, well said,” Altair continued. “Though I might point out that there’s a Scoreboard. And all Apprentices compete to reach the top of it.”

“Yes, there’s a Scoreboard,” I agreed. “But the Scoreboard has nothing to do with being a good Knight. It’s just something the Government does to maintain control over us. You know that as well as I do.”

Altair chuckled. “Yes. You were right about her.” He glanced at Kato. “She’s going to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“She already has,” replied Kato, and when his gaze fell upon me, he looked oddly impressed.

“What happens when?—”

The earsplitting screech of an alarm sliced through the room, cutting off Ainsley’s words. All of the Knights’ hands flew to their ears.

The alarm fell silent.

Jareth growled, “What the?—”

A second screech cut him off. The Knights scrambled to cover their ears again.

The room went quiet.

“Are we under attack?” Orion wondered.

The headache-inducing alarm screamed again.

The Knights formed a circle, their backs to one another. Kato grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the middle of the Knights’ circle-shield.

“Stay here,” he commanded me.