Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8)

by Shannon Messenger

  A word popped immediately into Sophie’s mind, but—

  “No,” Oralie said before Sophie could even finish the thought, and she gave Sophie’s wrists another gentle squeeze. “Don’t edit yourself. What word did you just think of?”

  Sophie shook her head. “It wasn’t the right word.”

  “How do you know?” Oralie countered. “Tell me and we’ll see what happens.”

  Sophie sighed. “I thought of ‘frustrating,’ because I can’t control it—but that’s why we’re doing this, so…”

  “We are. But you’re on the right track. How does the ability make you feel? How do you feel about the gloves and the fingernail gadgets and the fact that someone could use the ability against you?”

  “I… hate it,” Sophie whispered. “It’s so restricting.”

  As soon as the word left her lips, she felt her heart shift—and not just lighten. It was more like…

  Like it settled into a slightly new position.

  The right position.

  Uncovering a small, delicate thread underneath.

  A raw nerve.

  Another rush of energy hummed around it, and Sophie let it soak in, feeling the nerve twist and tighten until it felt like…

  A string on a violin—and when she let her will slide across it, she felt the tiniest tug in her chest, zinging down her arms, all the way to her fingertips, where…

  … her enhancing flickered off.

  “Whoa,” Sophie breathed, blinking her eyes to focus on Oralie, who was flashing the brightest, loveliest smile Sophie had ever seen. “I can’t believe that worked. How did that work?”

  “Honestly, it’s a little abstract even for me,” Oralie admitted. “But I think it comes down to the raw honesty of the exercise. You separated yourself from all of the preconceived notions of what you wanted your abilities to be, or what you thought they should be, and found the pure, simple truth—that for every advantage they bring, they also carry a complication. And you can own the challenge of that without being daunted by it because the responsibility of each ability is something you were made to carry, made to control, made to overpower.”

  “I guess that sorta makes sense,” Sophie murmured, dropping one of Oralie’s wrists so she could rub her chest. “Unless I just turned off my enhancing for good.”

  Oralie shook her head. “Try turning it back on—without fear or doubt. Turn it back on because you want it to be on.”

  Sophie wasn’t sure what that meant, but she closed her eyes and felt for that same fragile nerve, thinking of all the good things her enhancing brought, and when her heart stepped up a beat, she let that rhythm slide down that new nerve ending and…

  Another soft tug had her fingertips buzzing with enough energy to make Oralie’s wrist flinch in her grasp.

  “Sorry, should I let go?” she asked, but Oralie tightened her hold.

  “No,” she murmured, “it’s fascinating to feel the emotional shifts you’re experiencing. Such confidence and wonder and confusion and pride. I strongly suspect that the more you focus on whatever you’re doing to affect the power, the more you’ll notice subtleties that will allow you to even decide how much you want to enhance someone, so that it’s no longer an all-or-nothing ability.”

  “Really?” Sophie asked, rubbing her chest again.

  “Is that where the control pulls from?” Oralie asked, pointing to Sophie’s hand, where her fingers massaged a spot close to the center of her ribs, just to the right of her heart.

  “I think so.” Sophie switched her enhancing off again to test it. “Yeah, that’s where I feel the tug.”

  Oralie smiled. “I knew enhancing had to rely on the same inner strength as empathy! It explains so much!”

  “It does?” Sophie asked.

  “Well… it at least explains why your enhancing is so much stronger on Empaths.”

  “True,” Sophie agreed. “Though my enhancing’s also stronger on Telepaths—but that might be because of what Lord Cassius said. He said the way I use my telepathy reminds him of an Empath,” she explained when she saw Oralie’s confusion. “I pick up on emotions with my thoughts, I guess, without having to be in the emotional center. Have you ever heard of anyone doing that?”

  “No,” Oralie admitted, turning her head to study Sophie. “But given your unique history, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Yeah, neither am I,” Sophie admitted. “Though it makes me wonder…”

  “Wonder what?” Oralie pressed when Sophie didn’t finish.

  Sophie shook her head. “I’m not supposed to be thinking about that right now.”

  “Well, I don’t know what you mean—but it’s clearly upsetting you.” She ran her thumb across Sophie’s wrist to remind her she could feel everything Sophie was feeling right now. “It might help to at least talk about it.”

  Sophie sighed, reaching up to tug out an itchy eyelash. “I was just thinking about something that Lady Cadence told Biana and Stina. She said she thinks the Black Swan wouldn’t have given me the same abilities as my biological parents because that would make it too easy for people to figure out who they were. And if she’s right… their genetics would probably still affect me in certain ways, you know? And so many things about me are similar to Empaths, so… maybe that’s what one of my parents is.”

  Oralie went silent.

  “Don’t worry—I’m not going to get all distracted by this like I was before,” Sophie promised. “I told Stina and Biana and Keefe to stop coming up with theories and questioning people about whether or not they’re my biological parents until everything settles down with the dwarves.”

  Oralie frowned. “Wait… does that mean… you thought Lady Cadence was your mother?”

  Sophie’s cheeks burned as she nodded. “It’s not like I wanted to be related to her or anything. But… she’s a Polyglot, so it seemed worth looking into—but Biana and Stina were pretty convinced that she was telling the truth when she said she’s not. And if she’s also right about her theory, then the abilities don’t really tell me anything anyway—unless I’m right that the abilities would still affect me in certain ways. It kinda makes sense, doesn’t it? Especially if it’s an Empath?”

  “No,” Oralie told her—so firmly and immediately that Sophie should’ve been disappointed.

  But.

  But.

  She’d… also felt a tiny shift in Oralie’s pulse.

  Three skipped beats.

  And Sophie’s own heart tripped over itself when she remembered what that meant.

  “So…,” Sophie said slowly, wanting to make sure she hadn’t imagined the tell, “you don’t think one of my biological parents could be an Empath?”

  “I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought,” Oralie told her, pulling her wrist free.

  But before she did, Sophie felt it again.

  Three skipped beats.

  And Oralie could’ve been lying for any number of reasons.

  But… Sophie couldn’t stop her brain from reminding her that Oralie was an Empath.

  A blond Empath.

  Who’d always supported the Black Swan.

  And the fact that she was a Councillor would definitely explain why her identity had to be kept secret.

  And the more those thoughts swirled around in Sophie’s head, the more solid they started to feel.

  The more settled.

  Final.

  Real.

  So before she could think it through or change her mind, Sophie lunged forward, grabbing Oralie’s wrist as she blurted out, “You’re my mother… aren’t you?”

  And when Oralie said, “No!” there were three more skipped heartbeats.

  FORTY-THREE

  YOU ARE,” SOPHIE BREATHED, STILL not letting go of Oralie’s wrist. “You’re… my biological mother.”

  Oralie met her gaze, and Sophie searched Oralie’s face—her features—for some similarity.

  Some final confirmation.

  But it turned ou
t that Sophie didn’t need it.

  Because this time Oralie told her, “Yes.”

  And there were no missed heartbeats.

  Just a pulse that was hammering as loud and fast and erratically as Sophie’s.

  And for a long breath, they just stared at each other.

  And stared.

  And stared.

  Until Oralie said, “Sophie, I…”

  And Sophie waited for her to finish that sentence.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  But all she got at the end was Oralie telling her, “I… can’t do this.”

  “I don’t care!” Sophie shouted, tightening her grip on Oralie’s arm.

  Oralie could drag her across the floor if she wanted to—but she didn’t get to run away from this conversation.

  Not after…

  Sophie’s mind played through every smile that Oralie had given her over the years.

  Every kind word she’d ever said.

  They used to mean so much.

  But now they would never be enough.

  There were too many lies.

  Mountains of them—piling up in Sophie’s head.

  Smothering her.

  Crushing her.

  “I know you’re angry,” Oralie murmured—and Sophie had to laugh.

  “Did you figure that out on your own?” she asked. “Or because you’re an Empath?”

  Empath. Empath. Empath.

  Her biological mom was an Empath.

  Her biological mom was Oralie.

  COUNCILLOR Oralie.

  And with that word came another avalanche of realizations.

  Accusations.

  “You let the Council threaten to exile me!” Sophie snapped. “And you let them force Dex’s ability restrictor onto my head! And you let them banish me! And—”

  “I’m one vote, Sophie,” Oralie interrupted. “One. Vote. Out of twelve. I did as much as I could—but I could only do so much.”

  “Right,” Sophie said quietly. “You had to make sure no one would ever find out the truth—because if they did…”

  Her voice abandoned her as the full reality of her situation clicked in.

  No one could ever know.

  It was the same realization she’d had when she’d thought her father was Councillor Bronte—only so much worse.

  Because Oralie was beloved by the people.

  Vital to the Black Swan.

  Essential to the Council.

  She was the only one who could keep everyone honest.

  Even though she’d lied and lied and lied.

  And if Sophie told anyone the truth… If Oralie was kicked off of the Council…

  The loss.

  The chaos.

  It couldn’t happen.

  Even if it meant…

  Oralie sighed.

  And the soft sound felt worse than a slap.

  “This must be so tiring for you,” Sophie told her. “Having to actually face your daughter and admit how much you’ve ruined her life.”

  “Ruined?” Oralie repeated.

  Her tone was flat.

  Emotionless.

  And it wasn’t fair.

  She didn’t get to be calm about this.

  “I’m unmatchable!” Sophie shouted, needing something to throw or kick or…

  The jeweled table.

  Her free arm flipped it over, sending everything on it clattering across the floor.

  Her gloves.

  Dex’s gadgets.

  Oralie’s circlet.

  It landed at Sophie’s feet, and she wanted to step on it with her full weight, jump up and down until the metal was a bent tangle and the jewels were a smattering of glitter.

  But then Oralie told her, “Go ahead.”

  And the rage shifted.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Sophie said, kicking the circlet across the room so she wouldn’t be tempted anymore. “You don’t get to pretend like you care—”

  “I do care!” Oralie insisted.

  Sophie laughed. “You let me be part of an experiment! Left me with humans for twelve years! Ignored me as much as you could once Fitz brought me here—”

  “I’ve never ignored you!” Oralie argued.

  “Really?” Sophie countered. “Then where were you when Grady and Edaline freaked out and canceled my adoption?”

  Oralie flinched. “Alden and Della—”

  “Alden and Della stepped in and offered to raise your daughter,” Sophie jumped in. “And you were just going to let them.”

  “Sophie, I couldn’t—”

  “No, I get it,” Sophie told her. “You couldn’t let anyone know. Just like you can’t let anyone know now, even though I’ll be stuck being unmatchable—”

  “Sophie—”

  “Just like you couldn’t stand up for Prentice!” Sophie added—and somehow Oralie managed to turn even paler.

  A ghost of her pretty pink self.

  “I didn’t know Prentice was hiding you,” she whispered. “When I found out… I’ve never been so ill.”

  “But you knew he was part of the Black Swan,” Sophie argued. “And I’m assuming you knew they were the good guys, since you volunteered your future child for Project Moonlark.”

  “You don’t think the Black Swan could ever have a traitor?” Oralie asked her. “Back then, everything was murky. There was no clear line between the Black Swan and the Neverseen as far as anyone could tell. Some people didn’t even believe there were two groups. And I’d been given zero information—”

  “You must’ve been told something if you were willing to give them your DNA!” Sophie pressed.

  “Yes, I was told that I could help them create something—”

  “Something,” Sophie interrupted.

  “A wake-up call,” Oralie clarified. “A force for change and good, who would make our world pay attention in a way that no one else ever could. Make people see things for what they are, not what we thought they were.”

  “And you thought, ‘Sounds like a perfect job for my child.’ ”

  “No,” Oralie said, turning toward one of the windows and staring out at the stars. “I thought it sounded like the only way I’d ever be able to have a child.”

  She left the words there, waiting to see what Sophie would do with them.

  But Sophie couldn’t bring herself to care. “So I get to be unmatchable now—and Prentice had to spend years in Exile with a broken mind—because you wanted to have it all.”

  Oralie shook her head. “Prentice spent years in Exile because of a dozen different misunderstandings. And you…”

  Once again, Sophie waited for Oralie to finish that sentence.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Until she finally had to ask, “That’s it?”

  “I… don’t know what else you want me to say,” Oralie admitted.

  Sophie wanted to tell her, How about “I’m sorry”? Or how about “I’ll fix this”? Or how about “I love—”

  But she shut down those thoughts.

  If Oralie couldn’t think to say them on her own, then they weren’t worth hearing from her anyway.

  So all that was really left for Sophie to say was, “It’s late. Grady and Edaline are probably starting to worry.”

  Oralie nodded, still staring at the stars. “They’re good parents, Sophie. Far better than I ever could’ve been.”

  “They are,” Sophie agreed. “But you don’t get to take credit for them.”

  “Don’t I?” Oralie hesitated a beat before she reminded Sophie, “Alden and Della tried to adopt you after Fitz brought you here. And I convinced Bronte to push the rest of the Council to deny their request and assign you to Grady and Edaline. I didn’t know they’d momentarily lose their way, but… I knew you needed each other.”

  “We do,” Sophie told her. “But that still has nothing to do with you.”

  �
��No, I suppose not,” Oralie murmured.

  Seconds ticked by, until Sophie finally let go of Oralie’s wrist.

  Her fingers had long since gone numb. And there was nothing else she needed to ask—no more lies or excuses she wanted to hear.

  She stood and stumbled toward the door to find Sandor.

  Oralie stayed where she was.

  But she did call one question out to Sophie before she left.

  Oralie could’ve said anything to her daughter in that moment. And all she wanted to know was, “Are you going to tell anybody?”

  “Maybe,” Sophie told her, because she wanted to leave Oralie worrying and hurt.

  But Oralie was an Empath.

  Surely she heard the lie in the word.

  FORTY-FOUR

  SANDOR TOOK ONE LOOK AT Sophie’s expression as she emerged from Oralie’s crystal castle and asked, “Is there anything I need to know?”

  And he was wise enough to let it go when Sophie told him, “It’s just been… a very long day,” as she dug out her home crystal.

  It had been a long day.

  In fact, Sophie couldn’t believe that only that morning, she’d leaped to her sister’s house to pick up Keefe’s E.L. Fudges before heading with him to the Shores of Solace to search Lord Cassius’s memories.

  She wanted to flop into bed and sleep for a week.

  Maybe a month.

  Possibly a year.

  But the pastures weren’t empty when Sophie and Sandor leaped back to Havenfield, and Sophie had to swallow back a sigh—which probably made her a horrible person, given that the tall, handsome figure pacing back and forth along the moonlit path was her boyfriend.

  But there was only one reason Fitz would be there waiting for her that late.

  And she really wasn’t sure she had the energy for that conversation.

  She also didn’t seem to have much of a choice.

  “I can insist that you need your rest,” Sandor leaned in and whispered, and Sophie couldn’t decide if the unsolicited offer proved that her bodyguard was far more astute than she’d realized, or if her lack of enthusiasm was that obvious.

  In case it was the latter, she straightened up and forced her lips into what she hoped was a convincing smile as she told him, “Thanks, but I’ve got this. Maybe you and Grizel can give us a little space, though?”