She’d remembered to take the album with her when Fitz brought her to live in the Lost Cities, but she’d barely let herself look through the photos since. Now she climbed into bed and forced herself to study each picture, reliving the memories she’d buried away.
Trips to the beach, and the zoo, and Disneyland. Every first and last day of school. Plus all the smaller moments, like licking cookie dough off of wooden spoons with her sister, or the two of them proudly holding up Ella and Bun-Bun—their special stuffed animals—to the camera.
“You look so young,” Edaline said over her shoulder, making Sophie nearly drop the scrapbook. “Sorry—I thought you heard me approaching.”
She eyed the photo album with a burning sort of curiosity, and part of Sophie was tempted to cover the pictures and keep the two halves of her life separate. But if her human family really did get to keep their memories, she was going to have to let everything merge.
She patted the bed and flipped back to the beginning as Edaline scooted close, wrapping her arm around Sophie’s shoulder.
“Look at those big brown eyes,” Edaline whispered, studying the first layout of photos.
“Yeah, even as a baby I was weird,” Sophie mumbled.
Blue eyes were standard among the elves, but Sophie’s tweaked genetics had made hers an earthy tone with scattered flecks of gold. She’d been teased and praised for it, so the only thing she knew for sure was that she’d always be different.
“You were beautiful,” Edaline insisted.
Sophie snorted. “Oh please—look at my giant head!”
“All babies have big heads. Besides, you needed space for that powerful brain.”
“Riiiiiight. I’m sure that’s it.” Sophie squinted closer at the pictures. “I was also a very serious baby.”
In every photo her face looked scrunched with concentration, like she was trying to make sense of the world.
Or maybe she’d been pooping. With babies, it was hard to tell.
“You were perfect.” Edaline touched the edge of a picture where toddler Sophie had been dressed in so many ruffles she looked like a flower. “You are perfect.”
The next page was full of family photos—just the three of them back then, though in the third one Sophie’s mom had clearly been pregnant.
“Sometimes I forget that you had a whole life before you came here,” Edaline whispered, and the wistfulness in her voice stirred up a whole new batch of worries.
Edaline turned to the next page, to a photo of Sophie sunken into a faded old couch with her baby sister propped in her lap. “You must miss them so much.”
Sophie nodded.
But she couldn’t bring herself to mention that she was hoping her human parents might be allowed to keep their memories. Because she hadn’t really thought about how it could affect Grady and Edaline.
She’d known it would be messy and complicated, but she’d mostly considered how it might change things for her—and her human family.
What if Grady and Edaline didn’t think it was good news?
What if it damaged the bond they’d worked so hard to build?
What if . . .
There were too many “what-ifs.”
And she wasn’t ready for any of them.
“You’re sure you don’t need to talk?” Edaline whispered as Sophie whipped the scrapbook closed.
“I don’t really know what to say right now,” Sophie admitted.
“Well . . . I’m here if you change your mind.”
Edaline helped her put the photo album away before she snapped her fingers to lower the shades over the windows and left Sophie alone. Everything was quiet after that—except for Iggy’s leaf-blower snoring.
But as soon as Sophie closed her eyes, each of those “what-ifs” took on vibrant, terrifying shapes.
She’d battled nightmares before—and she was no stranger to sleepless nights. But the hollow chill that settled into her heart felt different.
She lay there sweating and shivering, clutching her bright blue stuffed elephant and trying to talk herself through it. But when her chest started to constrict, she threw back her covers and rushed for the door.
“What’s wrong?” Sandor asked as she sprinted for the stairs.
“I . . . need my family.”
It felt like the silliest, most childish thing to admit—especially since she’d brought Ella along with her. But Sophie couldn’t face that suffocating loneliness any longer.
She realized halfway to the second floor that she’d never actually been in Grady and Edaline’s room. When she’d first moved in, she’d considered the space off-limits—though no one had ever told her that. And since then, the most she’d ever done was peek through a crack in the doorway while the room was mostly dark. If Sandor hadn’t been right behind her, she might’ve turned back—but pride drove her forward, and even though her knock was barely audible, Grady answered immediately.
“Everything all right?”
Sophie cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I was just wondering if—are there T. rexes on your pajamas?”
Grady glanced down at his fuzzy pants covered in neon-green, feathered dinosaurs. The shirt was plain white, with a roaring dinosaur face in the center of the chest. “They were a gift from Elwin while you were living with the Black Swan.”
Sophie smiled. Elwin—Foxfire’s resident Physician—was known for his fondness for goofy, animal-covered clothes.
“I’m guessing you’re not here to discuss sleepwear,” Grady noted.
The temptation to wimp out surged again, but Sophie managed to mumble, “I was wondering if I could sleep in here. With you guys.”
She’d expected Grady to ask why. Maybe even be a little annoyed that she’d be crowding up his bed.
Instead, his smile was a mix of touched and sad as he told her, “Of course,” and stepped aside to let her in.
The room was already dark, but Sophie could make out wispy curtains and sleek silver furniture as she shuffled across the bunny-soft carpet to the enormous bed. Each of the posts reminded Sophie of a tree, stretching metal branches toward the ceiling to form an intricate canopy, with thin strands of gossamer fabric woven around twinkle lights, like faded starlight.
Edaline moved to the center of the bed, making room for Sophie to climb in.
“You don’t mind?” Sophie asked as she crawled under the covers, which felt especially warm and soft against her skin.
“Of course not.” Edaline adjusted her pillows as she settled next to Sophie, wrapping one arm around Sophie’s waist and using the other to gently rub her back as Grady joined them on the other side of the bed.
“Here,” he said, snapping his fingers and making a series of softly colored orbs glow around the room, casting delicate shadows across the walls. Each shadow made different shapes—soaring birds, majestic mountains, floating fish, graceful beasts. “Jolie was afraid of the dark when she was little,” he explained. “So we added these.”
“We wanted her to see that the shadows that scared her could be beautiful and powerful when we learn how to take control of them,” Edaline added.
Taking control.
It sounded so simple.
And so impossible.
But Edaline was right—that was the only way to get through this.
Tomorrow Sophie would hear the Black Swan out, hoping they had a solid plan. And if they didn’t, she’d have to figure out how to move forward with Keefe’s mom—unless anyone had any better ideas.
In the meantime, she would focus on the good things she had. Leave all the “what-ifs” alone until they became “for sures.”
“I love you guys,” she whispered as she settled against Edaline, hugging Ella tight.
“We love you too,” Grady whispered back.
It still took quite a while. But eventually sleep found her. And even though her dreams weren’t pleasant, the steady warmth of her family chased away the worst of the nightmares.
Eleven
&
nbsp; DON’T COME OUT until you’re dressed,” Sandor called through Sophie’s bathroom door the next morning as she stood in the dressing area of her closet, tying the sash on her silky green tunic.
Despite the somewhat restful night of sleep, she’d still woken around sunrise, her limbs itchy with nerves for the day ahead.
At least her sister had slept. Amy had been curled up in bed with Watson and Marty when Sophie hailed her to see how she was doing—and she had not been happy to be woken up.
Sophie stepped out into her room. “Why? Is something . . .”
Her voice trailed off when she spotted Keefe standing in her bedroom doorway.
He was at least an hour early. And he looked . . . tired.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, scratching at his hair—which was much less carefully styled than usual. “I look like I lost a fight with my pillow.”
He did. His dark circles were fierce.
“Meanwhile, you look especially sparkly,” he added with a slow smile.
Sophie fussed with her jeweled sleeves—which matched the emeralds lining the knee-high boots she’d slipped over her lacy gray leggings. Biana had frustratingly pointed out that elaborate clothes would do a better job of disguising her gloves, so Sophie was trying to force herself to get used to wearing glitter and frills.
Keefe’s lips tilted into his famous smirk as he crossed the room to stand closer. “I meant that as a compliment, Foster. Sparkles look good on you. So does the new hairdo.”
He reached up, his fingers skating gently along the edge of the intricate braid weaving through the front part of her hair. She’d been awake so long, she’d decided to listen to Vertina—the tiny face programmed into her spectral mirror, who loved to offer beauty advice, regardless of whether Sophie wanted to hear it.
“If you’re trying to impress me, it’s working,” he told her, and she felt her cheeks warm—until he added, “But, you always impress me, so maybe you were thinking of someone else?”
Sophie took a step back.
She knew he was only teasing, but that didn’t stop her face from experiencing an entirely different kind of burn.
Keefe cleared his throat. “Looks like we both had the same idea about wearing green.”
He tossed back the sides of his pine-colored cape, revealing an intricately embroidered sage-toned jerkin with peridot buttons.
“It seemed fitting, since we haven’t been able to do a planting,” Sophie mumbled, clutching her locket with Mr. Forkle’s Wanderling seed. The elves didn’t wear black to their versions of funerals, preferring the color of life instead.
Keefe nodded. “I had to sneak into Candleshade to grab this from my closet—though honestly, I’m not sure if my dad’s living there right now. The place felt way too dark and quiet.”
Sophie frowned. “Where else would he be?”
“Maybe his ‘secret apartment in Atlantis’? Or, his ‘secret beach house’? They’re his ‘escapes’ for when he needs a ‘break,’ because, you know, a two-hundred-story tower isn’t big enough for the three of us to all live in. Or wasn’t,” he corrected.
He tried to shrug it off, but Sophie could see the hurt etched between his brows. Keefe’s father had never physically hit him, but he’d done plenty of emotional damage with his insults, and unrealistic expectations, and the way he’d made Keefe feel like a constant bother.
“Did you grab Mrs. Stinkbottom while you were there?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. But she’d forgotten that she’d spotted the so-ugly-it’s-cute plush gulon in Lord Cassius’s bedroom in Candleshade, as if he’d been sleeping with it while Keefe was away.
“I did, actually,” Keefe said. “Couldn’t leave her behind again. I shouldn’t have left her in the first place.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Sophie agreed. “I bet you’ll sleep better tonight.”
“Probably.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d need a stuffed animal to sleep. But . . . I never knew I needed a lot of things before I met you.”
Somehow he’d moved closer, and Sophie’s throat went dry as he reached up and touched her braid again. Their eyes locked, and when his lips parted they seemed to curve with a different word than the one he eventually said. “Anyway. We don’t have a lot of time before the rest of the Foster Fan Club gets here, so I’m going to ask this fast—and I want a real answer, not that distract-and-avoid thing you’re becoming a master at. You’re planning to reach out to my mom, aren’t you? To ask her to take us to Nightfall?”
“We might have to,” Sophie admitted. “But not until we’re more prepared.”
“But every minute we waste—”
“I know.” Sophie pressed her fist against her knotted emotions. “Believe me—I feel sick about every lost second. But I’ve thought a lot about it, and the thing is, your mom knows we’d never reach out to her unless we were desperate. And she’ll use that to her advantage.”
“How does waiting change that?” Keefe asked.
“It gives us a chance to make sure there isn’t anything else we’re missing.”
“You really think we’re going to come up with a better idea?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the Black Swan’s contingency plan will—”
“Uh, we’re talking about the Black Swan,” Keefe interrupted. “I’m betting they’re going to tell us who they’ve elected to replace Forkle in the Collective and then order us to read some boring books and practice using our abilities—and while I’m sure you and the Fitzster won’t mind the excuse to stare into each other’s eyes—”
“It’s called Cognate training,” Sophie corrected. “And that’s not what we do.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Sophie ignored him. “Physic warned me that the contingency plan is going to make me angry. That sounds like it has to be something big.”
“Or maybe she knows you’re going to hate whoever they’re electing to fill his place in the Collective. Ugh—what if it’s Timkin Heks?”
The idea of having the father of one of Foxfire’s most outspoken mean girls bossing them around—even if Stina had been a little better lately—made Sophie want to fling things.
“It won’t be Timkin,” she tried to convince herself. “He’s too new to the order.”
“Then who do you think it’ll be?” Keefe asked.
“No idea.”
For her, Mr. Forkle was the Black Swan. She couldn’t imagine it without him, even though she was going to have to.
“Well, even if they appoint someone we like—and the rest of the Collective has some other brilliant plan for what to do without Forkle—that still doesn’t get us any closer to Nightfall. We need my mom for that.”
“Maybe,” Sophie admitted. “But you don’t stick your hand in a viper’s nest until you have a plan to avoid getting bitten.”
“Okay, I’ll give you points for the fancy metaphor. But I can handle my mom. She loves glory and attention—and Fintan took that away and left her to rot in an ogre prison. She’s going to want payback. Especially when she finds out that Fintan has enough of my blood to get into Nightfall. She called that place my legacy—but we both know she really meant it was her legacy. And now the Neverseen are in there without her.”
“Right, but you’re forgetting that your mom still has her own agenda,” Sophie reminded him. “And taking my parents could’ve been a part of her plan.”
“I know. But she also needs me—and I’m not saying that because I think my mommy loves me and misses me. I haven’t believed that lie in years.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, it made Sophie reach for his hand.
He watched her gloved fingers wrap around his. “I’m just saying she wouldn’t have left the note you guys found in my closet, or rigged my Imparter, or demanded you get me away from the Neverseen, if she didn’t need me for something. So, let’s find out what it is.”
“We will. I’m sure we will. We just need to be prepared.”
“
I am prepared—and I know you’re probably thinking about the epic fail I had with the Neverseen—”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Sophie agreed.
“But this won’t be like that. I didn’t know Fintan. I know my mom.”
“Do you?” Sophie asked as gently as she could. “She lied to you most of your life, and manipulated you and erased your memories.”
“Yeah, she’s definitely not going to win any Mom of the Year awards,” Keefe muttered. “And yeah, she’s fooled me in the past. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about things, and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured her out.”
“Pretty sure?” Sophie repeated. “You want to risk everything on pretty sure?”
“The only thing I’m risking is me.”
“Which is way more than I’m willing to lose.” It came out mushier than she’d meant it to, so she added, “And I know the rest of our friends will agree with me.”
Keefe snorted. “I’m betting Bangs Boy won’t.”
“Well, maybe he would if you’d stop calling him Bangs Boy.”
“Yeah, but that’s never going to happen.”
Keefe had invented the nickname because of Tam’s long jagged bangs, which Tam had dipped in melted silver to annoy his selfish, domineering parents. The hairdo was actually awesome—and matched the silver tips his twin sister, Linh, had added to her long black hair for the same reason. But Keefe insisted on teasing him relentlessly about it. Probably because Keefe and Tam had disliked each other from the moment they’d met.
The funny thing was, neither of them realized how much they had in common. If they’d get over themselves, they’d probably be best friends.
“I appreciate the concern, Foster,” Keefe said, slowly pulling his hand away. “But we both know that sooner or later we’re going to have to reach out to my mom. So why not do it before we waste a bunch of time we can’t afford to lose?”
“Because”—she took a deep breath—“there are bigger things to think about, beyond what’s going on with my family. It kills me to say that. But . . . it’s also true. Whatever’s happening to them right now is just one small piece of the Neverseen’s plan. And I think they’re trying to keep me distracted—trying to keep all of us so focused on the rescue that we don’t notice what they’re actually up to. Just like they did with Lumenaria.”
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