Exile

by Shannon Messenger

  Sophie moved on to the closet, which was filled with fancy gowns covered in frills and lace. Most of them were in shades of purple—another detail about the vision Prentice had shown her that seemed far too accurate to be coincidence. But it still didn’t give her any clue what the scene meant.

  On the highest shelf Sophie spotted two small silver chests that were stacked on top of each other. She pulled them down, coughing as a shower of dust rained around her. The bigger chest was filled with small trinkets, most of which Sophie couldn’t identify—tokens that must’ve meant something for Jolie to keep them, but told Sophie nothing. But the second chest was filled with folded slips of pink-toned paper, bound with a red satin ribbon. Sophie stepped out of the closet, peeling back the lace curtains on the nearest window so she’d have enough light to see the words written in faded black ink.

  The pages were all signed, Yours always, Brant.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” a high-pitched voice shouted, startling Sophie so much she dropped the stack of letters.

  Papers fluttered everywhere, and Sophie glared at Vertina’s face in the mirror. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Vertina’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, girlie, I’ve lived here a lot longer than you—so if you think I’m going to just sit here and let you raid Jolie’s things you’re—”

  “Lady Ruewen just leaped back on the property,” Sandor called from the hallway.

  “—seriously delusional.” Vertina finished. “You can’t just—”

  Sophie scrambled to the floor, ignoring Vertina’s ongoing tirade as she tried to gather all of the scattered letters.

  She knew she wouldn’t have enough time to put the letters back in the closet—and she hadn’t had a chance to look through them anyway—but she wasn’t sure how to sneak them out. She wished the Black Swan had made her a Conjurer as she stuffed them behind her back in the waistband of her pants, hoping she’d be able to slip up to her room without Edaline noticing the rectangular bulge under her tunic.

  She ran for the door and ducked into the hallway right as Edaline came up the stairs.

  “Sophie?” she asked, frowning as she glanced from her to Sandor, to Jolie’s room. “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry,” Sophie mumbled, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn’t seem suspicious. “I know I’m not supposed to go in there. I just . . . I was worried about Vertina. She seemed so lonely the last time I was here, I thought maybe I should come visit her occasionally.”

  She held her breath and tried not to move when she felt Sandor reach behind her and grab the letters from their horrible hiding place. If he ratted her out, she was going to strangle him—but he slipped them behind his back as Edaline sighed and shook her head.

  “You have no reason to apologize, Sophie. This house is your home. I’m sorry if you felt like there were places you weren’t supposed to go.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I know this room is special.”

  Edaline smiled. But it wasn’t a happy smile. “No, this room was special. Now it’s just a room. And I think . . .” She hesitated for a second, then stepped forward and threw open Jolie’s door, letting her eyes wander over the space before she said, “I think it’s time to let go.”

  “I—wow—really?”

  “I don’t know . . . I watched Della today, clinging to every tiny thing Alden had ever touched like it could somehow bring him back, and I could see how much worse it made everything. This stuff isn’t going to change anything. So maybe . . .” Her voice faded away.

  Sophie struggled to think of something to say.

  “We can’t live in the past,” Edaline added, her voice louder. Resolved. “We have to let the hard things go—what happened to Alden proves it. I’m going to ask the gnomes to pack all of this up, and we can make this room into whatever you want.”

  “Maybe you should—um—check with Grady first.” Sophie knew Edaline was right about moving on, but she needed more time to search Jolie’s things before they packed them all away.

  “I guess,” Edaline agreed, letting Sophie lead her toward the door. “But you’re right about Vertina. We shouldn’t leave her alone in this dim room anymore. Would you like me to ask the gnomes to move her up to your room?”

  It was hard not to groan.

  Then again, the obnoxious girl did know Jolie. Maybe she knew something that would help. “Sure . . . but make sure they put her in a corner.”

  Edaline smiled. “I don’t blame you for that. And then I think we should do something fun today. You start your first full year at Foxfire tomorrow—we should celebrate. Start some new traditions. No more living in the past.”

  Sophie tried to smile back—but it felt wrong to celebrate and start a new year at Foxfire when Alden hadn’t been healed yet.

  But Edaline was right, too. Life did have to go on. So she went upstairs, stashed Brant’s letters in the bottom of her desk drawer, changed out of her dusty pajamas, and spent the rest of the afternoon with Edaline, feasting on freshly made mallowmelt and custard bursts and playing with Iggy, who soaked up the attention. Grady came home in time for dinner, and even though he looked weary, he jumped right on board with the starting new traditions plan. He even promised they’d bring her to Atlantis whenever she wanted, so she could pick a new charm for her bracelet. It was one of the best nights she’d had in a long time.

  After they’d tucked her in, though, Sophie snuck out of bed and retrieved Brant’s letters and her memory log. She started to grab a moon jar, but then she realized there was no point sneaking around. She snapped her fingers, flooding her room with light as she crawled back under the covers. Iggy curled up next to her, and she rumpled his still-pink fur as she unfolded the first letter.

  My Dearest Jolie, the message started, followed by what might have been the sappiest love letter ever written. Sophie mostly skimmed—it felt strange reading something so personal—and moved on to the next, which might have been even sappier. Same with the one after that. Brant seemed to really miss his girlfriend while she was sequestered away in the elite towers—which was strange that he wasn’t there with her. Was he older than Jolie?

  The next letter was some sort of gooey love poem, and Sophie was about to give up on the whole pile. But the next letter felt heavier than the others, and as she unfolded it, a small photo slipped into her lap.

  She sucked in a breath as she stared at the happy couple before the fire destroyed them. Jolie looked exactly like she had in the vision Prentice showed her—which meant he must have known her in real life. And without the scar, Brant looked like a rock star, right down to the tousled hair and crooked smile.

  Jolie had a silver cape with a unicorn pin clasping it across her shoulders, so the photo had to have been taken when she was a Level Eight, the last year of the elite levels. Unicorns were the final mascot.

  Which meant it was only a few months before she died. Maybe even weeks.

  Brant wore a green tunic with a black stripe across the chest and a crest over his heart: a red triangle crisscrossed by two gray lines set against a background of blue. Something felt familiar about the symbol—but Sophie couldn’t place what it was.

  She closed her eyes, focusing on the blurry image forming in her mind. A blue sleeve with a similar symbol—though the colors were different. She couldn’t remember anything else, and it was only a quick flash. Like the rest of the memory had been lost.

  Or taken.

  She dropped the photo and scrambled for her memory log, projecting the blurry image before it slipped away. As she stared at it, another foggy image resurfaced in her mind.

  Curled, squiggly lines stretched along the edge of a hot pink page.

  She recognized the paper from an old journal she’d used to write in when she was younger—until she got bored with it. She only remembered using it to complain about the annoying things her sister did. But had she written something else?

  She poked at the memory, tried to force it into focus b
efore she projected it onto a fresh page. The image was dim and fuzzy, but she could see the sparkly edge of the pink book and the faintly curved squiggles written in the margin. She didn’t remember writing them, and they were too blurry to read what they said. But she could tell one crucial detail.

  They were elvin runes.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  HER MEMORY LOG CRASHED TO the floor as Sophie raced for her bookshelf, whispering, “Please please please.” She scanned the rows but found no sign of any sparkly pink journal.

  She ran to her desk, tearing through the drawers.

  “What’s going on?” Sandor asked as he burst into her room—but she was too busy sprinting to her closet to answer.

  She flung aside her shoes and unearthed a small pile of wrinkled jeans and T-shirts she’d long since forgotten. But what she needed was the purple canvas backpack underneath. It felt empty when she picked it up, but she still checked each zippered section. All she found were a few crumpled candy wrappers and a broken pencil.

  She sank to the floor, rubbing her temples as she tried to think. She remembered rushing up the stairs in her parents’ cramped house, stumbling down the hall and shutting herself in her room to pack. She’d only taken a single backpack, feeling like most of her things didn’t belong to the new life she was starting.

  “Please,” Sophie whispered again as she ran through a mental checklist of the items she’d thrown in the bag. Shirts, pants, socks, and underwear to last a few days. A scrapbook she’d made with her mom, full of old family pictures. Her iPod. And . . .

  That was it.

  Fitz had gone back and grabbed Ella for her a few minutes later. But she left the long forgotten journal in the same place she’d shoved it years ago—the bottom of her old desk drawer, buried under a pile of schoolbooks.

  “Miss Foster,” Sandor said, pulling her out of her spinning thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’m fine.”

  But she wasn’t. Not even close.

  She’d left behind what was probably the most important clue to the Black Swan—the most important clue to who she was.

  She had to find a way to get it back.

  “THAT COLOR ACTUALLY LOOKS GOOD on you,” Vertina told her as Sophie adjusted the mastodon pin on the stupid half-cape of her Foxfire uniform.

  She frowned at her reflection. “Really? You don’t think I look like a rotten orange?”

  “No, you do. But at least it almost matches your freaky eyes.”

  Sophie stepped out of Vertina’s range, wishing she could throw a blanket over the obnoxious mirror. Too bad she was trying to be nice and get Vertina to trust her. So far Vertina had answered all of her questions about Jolie by shaking her tiny head and telling her it was “none of her business,” and Sophie had no idea how to bribe a mirror into talking.

  She grabbed her Foxfire satchel, ignoring Silveny’s demands that she come play as she climbed the stairs to the Leapmaster. The muffin she’d eaten for breakfast churned in her stomach, but it wasn’t the usual first-day-of-school jitters. Worrying, Who will I sit with at lunch? or What if my Mentors don’t like me? or even Will people make fun of my monstrous goblin bodyguard? seemed pointless in the wake of Alden’s loss.

  Grady and Edaline were waiting for her under the crystals.

  “You look so grown-up,” Edaline whispered, wiping her eyes.

  Grady looked choked up too, but Sophie was more affected by his dark blue cape. It looked just like the one Alden usually wore.

  “Try not to be nervous about today,” Grady said as he wrapped Sophie in a hug. “One thing that should make it easier is that the Council has decided to keep what’s happened to Alden quiet until they figure out how best to proceed. The news will come as quite a blow to many, and they want to make sure they figure out how best to deliver it.”

  “Can they really keep it secret?”

  “They can for a few days.”

  It seemed strange to hide something like that from everyone, but . . . if Sophie was honest, a tiny part of her was relieved, too. One less thing to worry about—for a few days at least.

  Though it didn’t solve the biggest problems on her mind.

  What would she say to Fitz and Biana?

  Or worse.

  What if they still blamed her for what happened?

  “THERE YOU ARE!” DEX SAID, rushing to the corner Sophie was hiding in on the bottom floor of the glass pyramid. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t want Sandor to freak anyone out.”

  She’d made him stand against the wall and squat down to be more discreet—though really, she’d been hiding from Fitz and Biana. So far she’d seen no sign of them, and she was hoping to keep it that way as long as possible.

  Plus, it felt weird being surrounded by so much excitement and laughter. All the prodigies around her were talking, sharing schedules, trading Prattles’ pins, like there was nothing wrong in the world. She wondered how Fitz and Biana were handling it. It had to be hard pretending like everything was normal when their dad was . . .

  Sophie refused to finish the thought. As far as she was concerned, Alden was just sleeping. She’d find a way to wake him up soon enough.

  “Were you listening to anything I just said?” Dex asked, dragging her back to reality.

  “Um . . .”

  “Ugh. Never mind. The drama getting the triplets ready for school this morning wasn’t that interesting anyway.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been a hectic few days.”

  “Yeah. How was that assignment thing that I’m not supposed to know about?”

  “I’m . . . not allowed to say.”

  Dex heaved a sigh as Marella joined them and asked, “Not allowed to say what?”

  Sophie was saved from an interrogation by Dame Alina’s projection flashing across the far wall. She gave her most dazzling smile, welcomed them to a new year at Foxfire, and launched into a string of announcements that Sophie couldn’t make herself pay attention to because she was too busy imagining how Dame Alina would take the news about Alden. It was a well-known fact that she’d pined for Alden for years—even tried to steal him away from Della on his wedding day.

  “She’s tuning us out again,” Dex said, and it took Sophie a second to realize he meant her.

  “Sorry.”

  Marella shrugged, but Sophie could tell Dex was annoyed, so she did her best to pay attention as they walked to the atrium and Dex and Marella argued over what would be a fair trade for Marella’s locker, finally settling on two of Dex’s rarest Prattles’ pins. She also forced herself to listen when Jensi walked her to her first session, even though he was mostly wondering why he hadn’t seen Biana, and every time he said her name it gave Sophie a nervous stomachache. She even tried to listen to Sir Beckett—her new elvin history Mentor—when he launched into a mind-numbing lecture on the establishment of the dwarven treaty. But his dry, toneless voice was almost hypnotic, and the only thing that stopped her from dozing off was the high-pitched wheeze of Sandor’s snoring.

  Sophie would never forget the way his eyes bulged when Sir Beckett shook him awake, and she was tempted to ask for recordings of his lectures. Finally, she’d found Sandor’s weakness.

  Her smile faded as she made her way to the cafeteria for lunch. Fitz and Biana usually sat at her table, and she had no idea what she’d say to them if they did.

  She had no idea what she’d say if they didn’t sit with her either.

  But in the end it didn’t matter.

  The Vackers weren’t there.

  Marella and Jensi were speculating about where they could be when Sophie sat down, but she was able to distract them by pointing out that Keefe wasn’t sitting with them either. Jensi told them he’d heard that Keefe had already gotten detention, and Marella had all kinds of wild theories about what he could have done. Sophie spent the hour playing with her brown mushroom sludge, glad
she wasn’t actually hungry.

  Apparently, another Foxfire tradition was to make the mushrooms grown for the Ceremonies into some sort of stew that was supposed to make everyone smarter. Mostly it tasted like dirty dishwater, and Sophie was too afraid that the glowworms might also be part of the recipe to eat more than a bite. She hoped the food would be back to normal the next day.

  “Are you nervous about your next session?” Dex asked, and it took Sophie a second to remember what her next session even was.

  “That’s right—you’re going to the Silver Tower!” Jensi said, scooting closer. “You have to tell us all about it—you’ll be allowed to, right?”

  “I think so.” Sophie honestly didn’t know. She was still trying to figure out why she had to take linguistics in the first place. Didn’t being a Polyglot make that unnecessary?

  She pretended to be excited as the bells rang and she left her friends to head to the elite towers. But as she made the long, lonely walk across the purple fields to the twisted gold and silver towers, she was tempted to flee back to Dame Alina’s office and request a different session. Or at least an explanation.

  The only thing that kept her moving forward was knowing the Councillors were the ones who’d chosen her schedule. She doubted even Dame Alina had the power to make any changes.

  The gleaming elite towers were so tall they blocked out the sun, and as Sophie climbed the shadowed steps to the Silver Tower’s door, she couldn’t help feeling like an Oompa Loompa in her ugly orange-and-white uniform.

  The arched door wouldn’t open, so she knocked, and the thick metal seemed to swallow the sound. Seconds later a tall elf with far too much shiny gel in his jet black hair opened the door just far enough to lean out and tell her, “You kids don’t seem to realize that interrupting elite study time merits a week’s detention.”