Sophie dusted off her knees, noting that she was now inside an elegant dining hall with a massive table carved of solid gold that had to seat at least thirty people—which seemed like an odd choice for a secret room accessible only by fireplace in an apartment no one was supposed to know about.
“So, um, how rich are these people?” Amy whispered to Sophie as she squinted at the twinkling chandelier that shimmered with cascading crystals.
Sophie smiled. She’d gotten so used to the insane wealth of the elves that she’d forgotten how overwhelming it was at first. “Believe it or not, this is pretty normal around here.”
Amy’s jaw fell open as Sophie explained about the elvin birth fund.
“Are you saying you have millions of dollars?” she gasped.
“Actually, she’s saying she has billions,” Quinlin corrected. “Possibly even trillions—I haven’t looked up the value of human money these days.”
Amy blinked. “Yeah. Okay. I expect lots of presents.”
“Liking this girl more and more,” Livvy said as she twisted one of the platters in the gilded china cabinet, opening a circular doorway among all the goblets and plates. “And now comes the best part.”
The path led them to a shimmering hallway lined with five doors. “These are the main bedrooms,” Livvy explained. “Pick any one you want—but I have a feeling you’ll want the fourth one.”
Amy’s eyes stretched wider and wider with every room they toured—each huger and fancier than the last. But Livvy was right about the fourth bedroom. Painted in blues, grays, and purples, the room looked like it had been dipped in twilight, with a massive bed heaped with a mountain of fluffy pillows. And the view . . .
“Don’t worry—it’s one-way glass,” Livvy explained as Amy made her way to the gigantic window that overlooked the silver-and-blue city.
“So this is Atlantis,” she breathed.
The twisted skyscrapers gleamed in the pale glow of the balefire towers. Beyond them, the dark curve of the dome shielded the city from the watery depths beyond.
“We really are under the ocean,” Amy murmured. “It’s so weird not having any sky.”
“It takes getting used to,” Quinlin agreed. “The city lightens and darkens throughout each day to give some sense of the passing hours—and during the night cycle, the dome has a starlight effect that’s quite breathtaking. But plan on your body needing some time to adjust to the new rhythms.”
“Do you ever see, like, sharks swimming by?” Amy asked.
“I’m sure they’re out there,” Quinlin said, “but the dome absorbs any light, to keep the city better hidden.”
Amy squinted at the darkness before turning her attention to the streets far below, where ant-size elves roamed the various sidewalks and squares and courtyards. Atlantis reminded Sophie of a futuristic Venice, with its intricate network of canals dividing up the city, bustling with fancy carriages floating along the water, being pulled by humongous sea scorpions.
“Humans really used to live here?” Amy asked, pressing her fingers against the glass.
“A very long time ago,” Quinlin said quietly. “And a lot of things have changed since then. But you can still see remnants.”
He pointed to something in the center of one of the more prominent squares. “It’s hard to tell from up here, but that’s called the Unity Fountain. It features two golden statues—one an elf, and one a human—standing side by side in a wide reflecting pool, with colored streams of water shooting around them to symbolize the ties binding our two species together.”
“I’m always surprised the Council hasn’t taken it down,” Alden admitted. “Or at least removed the human figure. Especially after they terminated the Human Assistance Program.”
“Human Assistance Program?” Amy repeated.
“It was our failed attempt to guide the human world without them realizing it,” Quinlin explained. “Our brightest minds volunteered to live in the Forbidden Cities for a time, offering insights and innovation to those willing to learn. Many of your world’s greatest advancements occurred—unbeknownst to them—because of the tutelage of elves.”
“But not everything,” Alden added. “Humans also have their own unique approach to research and discovery—that’s why the Ancients built this city in the first place. A very long time ago, we wanted to bring our worlds together and benefit from each other’s perspective. That’s why even after the humans’ treachery forced us to disappear, we couldn’t keep away completely. And I’ve no doubt that those who worked in the Human Assistance Program gained much during their time there.”
“Then why did they cancel the program?” Amy asked.
“Because the humans didn’t always use our gifts for the purposes we intended,” Quinlin explained. “Far too often, they took the knowledge we’d shared and created weapons, or pollutants, or other dangerous things. Eventually, we realized the program was deeply flawed and that we were doing both of our worlds more harm than good.”
“How long ago was that?” Sophie asked.
“Not as far back as you might think,” Livvy told her. “Your human schools probably taught you about the horrifying bombs that humans dropped to end their last ‘world war.’ But they don’t realize that much of the early wisdom that led to their creation came from elvin scientists.”
“Some argued that the knowledge they gave was generic enough that the humans likely would’ve discovered it on their own,” Alden added. “But the Council couldn’t ignore such a catastrophic loss of life—especially since the humans now had the potential to do it again.”
“The ogres also didn’t appreciate that humans posed a greater threat because of us,” Quinlin added.
“Neither did the goblins,” Sandor noted. “As I remember, my queen threatened to pull all military support if the program was not terminated.”
“And that is why we can’t let anyone know you’re here,” Livvy told Amy. “Contact with humans is now expressly forbidden—though our order felt that was a mistake, which is partly why we arranged for Sophie to be raised by a human family.”
All Amy seemed able to say to that was “Huh”—and Sophie couldn’t blame her. She’d been given bits of the story over her time in the Lost Cities, but she’d never had the pieces click together quite so clearly.
“Well,” Livvy said, “that got . . . heavy.”
“It did,” Amy agreed, still staring at the silver-blue city.
“You okay?” Sophie asked her.
“Yeah. I was just trying to imagine what it would be like if you guys had never had to sink this place.”
“I’ve often tried to picture the same thing,” Livvy admitted, “but I never really know where to begin. Our species have been on separate paths for so long. . . .”
“I think it’s safe to say that the world would be a very different place,” Quinlin added.
“A better place?” Amy asked.
“Peace is generally the optimal way of being,” Alden agreed. “Division and strife always come with a cost.”
“But it’s best not to lament what we cannot change,” Quinlin said quietly. “Like it or not, the humans did betray us, and we have been forced to go our separate ways.”
“Don’t worry—we don’t blame you,” Livvy said when she noticed Amy’s frown. “No one should be held accountable for their ancestors’ mistakes, so long as they learn from them. And now that I’ve thoroughly overwhelmed you with difficult information, let me show you the best part of this room.”
She crossed to the ornate silver wardrobe and pulled the doors open, shoving aside the fancy clothes hanging from the rack and knocking on the back.
“It has a secret wardrobe passage?” Sophie asked as Livvy twisted a hidden knob and revealed a narrow doorway that led to a lush, airy conservatory lit with twinkling lights.
Flowering vines draped across the crystal ceiling, and the walls dripped with blue papery flowers that smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle. Tendrils of jade-gr
een grass covered the floor, and graceful trees had been scattered around the space, growing in giant crystal urns.
“I thought your furry friends would love having their own private garden,” Livvy explained. “But like I said, you’re welcome to pick any room you—”
“Are you kidding?” Amy interrupted. “I’m totally taking the Narnia room!”
The glee in her voice helped Sophie breathe a little easier.
Her sister would be happy here, even with everything else they were dealing with.
“That settles it, then,” Livvy said, “We’ll get your things moved in—though I saw those sad little satchels Alden packed, so I’m sure we’ll also be making a list of things they forgot, and I’ll make a shopping run.”
“We only packed the necessities because I didn’t want Amy to feel like we’d uprooted her whole life,” Alden argued. “Plus, I was wrestling with an overly protective dog and a supremely mistrustful cat!”
“Where are they, by the way?” Amy asked.
“In the larger conservatory on the opposite end of the apartment,” Quinlin told her. “And since I’d like to keep the skin on my face, I’ll leave moving them here to you.”
Wrangling a skittish cat and an exuberant beagle through the secret passages was definitely a process. But it helped that Marty remembered Sophie. He’d slunk right toward her, rubbing his big furry body against her legs and filling the air with the hum of his squeaky purr.
“You’re leaving now, aren’t you?” Amy whispered when Sophie set the fluffy cat among the pillows on Amy’s new bed.
“I probably should get home. But keep this with you in your pocket.” She grabbed the small silver square that Livvy had left on Amy’s nightstand and explained how all she’d have to do is say, “Show me Sophie Foster,” and the Imparter would hail her. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night—if you need me, call for me, okay?”
“Same goes for us,” Livvy said, wrapping an arm around Amy’s shoulders. “I know you might feel hesitant to rely on us. But we’re here for anything you need. You don’t have to put on a brave face or pretend like everything’s okay. If you want to talk, cry, laugh, eat junk food till you’re sick, or do all of the above, you just say the word. Or if you’d rather we leave you alone so you can snuggle with your fur-babies, that’s fine too.”
Amy gave a shaky nod. “And you’re going to start searching for Mom and Dad?”
“As soon as I get home,” Sophie promised.
“As soon as you get some sleep,” Alden corrected. “And don’t tell me you just slept fourteen hours from the sedatives—that kind of rest actually exhausts the body. It’s also far later than you realize. So please go home and go to bed. Wait for the morning, when you can regroup with your friends, and the seven of you can start scheming together.”
“Actually, you have something else to do tomorrow morning,” Livvy interrupted, fussing with her braids. “Tomorrow, Tiergan will be collecting you and your friends from Havenfield and bringing you to one of our most heavily protected hideouts. The Black Swan is finally ready to move forward with their contingency plan. And trust me, it’s going to change everything.”
Ten
NO MATTER HOW hard Sophie pressed for details about the contingency plan, the most Livvy would tell her is, “Prepare for an emotionally exhausting day.”
But when Sophie finally gave up and agreed to let Alden take her home, Livvy did add, “You’re going to be angry. And none of us will blame you for that. But try to remember that it was Mr. Forkle’s request to have us wait.”
With that cheerful thought fogging up her brain, Sophie barely registered the goodbye hug she gave her sister—and she endured the lengthy process of leaving Atlantis in a daze.
“Do you know what the contingency plan is?” she asked when they’d launched out of the ocean in a giant bubble and were drifting on the cold breeze. The night sky twinkled and the dark ocean churned far below, making her feel very small when Alden shook his head.
“Tiergan told me they wanted you to be the first to see,” he said quietly.
“See?” she repeated. “So it’s something they’re going to show me?”
“I noticed the same word choice. And when I pressed him on it, he told me I would understand when the secret had been revealed. They definitely know how to be mysterious.”
“More like annoying.”
Sandor snorted his agreement.
“If it cheers you at all,” Alden said as he fished his pathfinder out of his pocket, “I’m sure Fitz and Keefe have spent this time deciding how best to punish me for sedating you. I expect Biana and Della also assisted.”
“Don’t be surprised if Grizel ropes you into her dancing scheme, either,” Sandor warned.
Grizel had turned a search of Keefe’s bedroom into a contest to see who could discover the most secrets. And after their win, Sophie, Linh, and Grizel each got to call in a favor from one of the guys. Sandor would now be dancing in what sounded like an embarrassingly tight pair of silver pants—and Fitz would be joining him, as punishment for the time he snuck away with Sophie to meet up with Keefe. Linh would be making Tam buy her a pet of her choosing. And Sophie had foolishly waited too long to decide Fitz’s punishment, and ended up losing the favor to him in a follow-up wager.
He hadn’t called it in yet, and she was dreading what he would come up with.
“You should probably be careful with any hair products you use,” she warned Alden. “Otherwise you might end up with blue spikes or red frizz.”
“I probably deserve worse.” His smile faded when he added, “I’m sorry again. For everything.”
Sophie focused on the stars. “I know.”
He didn’t promise her that everything would be okay.
Or tell her she had no reason to worry.
He didn’t even try to interrogate her about whatever she was planning.
All he said was, “I believe in you, Sophie Foster,” as he raised his pathfinder up to the silvery glow of the moonlight.
And Sandor added, “We all do.”
Then their bubble burst and the light carried them away.
* * *
SOPHIE WASN’T SURPRISED TO FIND Grady and Edaline waiting up for her on the crisp white couch in Havenfield’s elegant main room. Nor was she shocked to see shadows under their eyes and creases pressed into their foreheads. Her adoptive parents were champion worriers—and considering how many brushes with death Sophie had survived, she couldn’t totally blame them. Plus, she’d rushed off to check on her human family without telling them she was leaving.
“You don’t have to explain,” Edaline told her, pulling her into a hug. “Alden gave us plenty of updates. And we understand if you don’t feel like talking.”
“Thank you,” Sophie grunted as Edaline’s hug turned crushing.
Her adoptive mother might look like a fragile beauty with her wavy amber-toned hair, pink cheeks, and wide turquoise eyes. But she could also wrestle a mastodon and wrangle saber-toothed tigers. Edaline had even saved Sophie’s life during the destruction of Lumenaria, using her ability as a Conjurer to send any falling debris into the void before it could crush them.
“Is there anything we can do?” Grady asked, shaking his tousled blond hair out of his bright blue eyes before he turned the mother-daughter hug into a group hug.
Sophie squeezed them tighter. “This helps.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she checked the shadows for Cadoc—Edaline’s goblin bodyguard—needing to remind herself that her parents were well protected. She found him right where he should be, with one hand by his sword and the other hand near a line of goblin throwing-stars strapped to his leg—ready to shred the world at the first hint of a threat.
The Black Swan had also added new security features to Havenfield after the ogre attack. And Grady was a Mesmer—a rare special ability that allowed him a certain level of mind control. Hopefully all of that would be enough to protect her family from the
Neverseen.
Still, Sophie felt the need to add, “Please promise me you’ll be extra careful.”
“Same goes to you, kiddo,” Grady told her. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know about all the dangerous things you’re now planning to do, but I’m hoping you’ll tell me anyway.”
Sophie sighed. “Right now, the only plan is to get through whatever the Collective is going to reveal tomorrow.”
Neither of her parents had any theories for what the Black Swan could possibly be arranging.
“Well,” Edaline said, tracing her fingers gently down Sophie’s back, “if you think of anything we can do, we’re here.”
Sophie kissed them each on the cheek and headed for the curved central staircase. Her bedroom took up the entire third floor, and she stood in her doorway while Sandor made his nightly security sweep. But as her eyes followed him around her enormous room, she couldn’t help wondering what her sister would’ve thought if she’d come home with her.
The glass walls overlooked the ocean, the delicate flowers woven into the carpet were lovely, and the enormous canopied bed looked ready for a princess—and Iggy’s purple poof of a body bouncing in his tiny cage added a unique sort of quirk. And yet, the room didn’t necessarily say anything about Sophie’s new life. She hadn’t bothered to decorate—even after Keefe had pointed out that almost nothing in the room seemed to be hers—in large part because she’d spent most of her time in the Lost Cities either worrying that Grady and Edaline wouldn’t adopt her, terrified that the Council would exile her, or banished and fighting to stay alive.
“All clear,” Sandor said, striding to his usual post outside her door. “I’ll give you one hour with lights on, in case you want to record anything in your memory log. But then I expect you to go to bed.”
“We both know sleep is so not going to happen,” she argued.
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Please, Sophie. It sounds like you’re going to need the rest.”
Fighting would only waste her precious lights-on time, so Sophie showered and changed into her pajamas as fast as she could. And when she emerged from her bathroom, her eyes went straight to her wall of bookshelves, searching for her old scrapbook—which was coated in a thin film of dust.
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