Silveny, you have to get us out of here!
Help! the terrified horse transmitted.
I don’t know how!
But Silveny just kept repeating Help! over and over. And as Sophie imagined them splattering over the rocky shore, something inside her clicked.
She wasn’t sure if it was instincts or pure desperation, but it felt like her brain switched into autopilot, feeding off her adrenaline to generate warmth and energy and swirling the two forces together until it felt like an explosion rocketed from her mind. The blast tore an opening in space, and a split second later they crashed through it, into the void.
The gray space felt different now that Sophie was the one in control, and she realized they could go anywhere—everywhere—all she had to do was think it and it would be.
There was only one place she wanted to go.
Before she could fully think the word, the grayness split with a flash of light and they dropped through it, landing in a crumpled heap in the soft grass of Havenfield.
FIFTY-NINE
I THINK I’M MAXED OUT on adventure for a while,” Keefe said as Elwin flashed a red orb around his chest. Thick scratches covered his arms, and his chin had a gash almost as deep as the one over his eyebrow. “Now I know why you need a physician on standby, Foster.”
“Are you really okay?” Sophie asked, feeling a bit dizzy every time she looked at the red streaks on his skin. She hoped they didn’t hurt as much as the deep cut across her right cheek.
Grady and Edaline had rushed outside the second they’d heard Silveny’s agonized screeching. They’d helped Keefe and Sophie pull themselves away from the thrashing, wounded horse, and they’d hailed Elwin and sedated Silveny before she could hurt herself further. But Sophie and Keefe had both insisted on being treated outside, in case Silveny woke up.
Sophie winced as she tried to shift to a more comfortable position on the grassy ground. The instructions Mr. Forkle had sent explicitly forbade elixirs, serums, or sedatives of any kind. All Elwin had been able to do was clean her wounds—which he was not happy about. She wasn’t a fan either. It would’ve been nice to at least use a numbing balm, but they couldn’t chance it.
“I knew I should’ve gone with you,” Sandor grumbled, slashing his sword at the air like he was slaying imaginary attackers.
Grady nodded as he paced back and forth across the pasture, wearing a groove in the soft ground. Every few seconds he pummeled them with more questions about what happened, most of which Sophie didn’t know the answers to. Or didn’t want to answer . . .
She didn’t know if she’d teleported—or how she’d done it if she had—but she didn’t want anyone to know either way. Then she’d have to explain about her crazy alicorn-inspired DNA, and everyone would probably run screaming away from “the girl who was part horse.”
Another secret.
But some things she just couldn’t share.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Grady said, crouching and wrapping his arms around her. The hug was gentle, but tight, too—like he never wanted to let go.
Sophie didn’t want him to. “Thank you for trusting me,” she told him.
“Thank you for coming back.”
She heard Edaline sniffle and glanced over to where she was busy tending to Silveny. When their eyes met, Edaline whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Sophie whispered back.
“I haven’t been able to reach your parents,” Grady told Keefe. “I tried hailing your father, but he hasn’t responded yet.”
“Yeah, and it’s not like you’d expect him to be waiting up all night for me to come home safe or anything.”
Sophie tried to think of something to say, but Grady changed the subject. “I guess this means you were right about the Black Swan, Sophie. I . . . need to let my suspicions go.”
“You really do.” She tightened her grip around him as she added, “I asked them about Jolie.”
His back went rigid. “You what?”
“He let me ask one question, and I asked about Jolie. He said that was not what the message meant, and that they had nothing to do with the fire.”
Grady wobbled and leaned back to bury his face in his hands. When he looked up, tears had pooled in his eyes and his arms were shaking. “So it wasn’t my fault?” he whispered.
The question made Sophie’s heart swell. Now he could let go of his anger and his guilt—all the burdens he’d been carrying and battling for so long.
Now he could just be Grady again.
“Did he know anything about the fire?” Grady asked, drying his eyes on his sleeve.
Sophie frowned. “It almost seemed like he’d never considered it a murder, because he said, ‘it explains many things.’ But when I asked him what that meant, he told me I’d already used up my question.”
Grady heaved a heavy sigh, and Sophie couldn’t blame him. Then he strangled her with another hug. “Thank you for asking, Sophie. I’m sure there were lots of other things you wanted to know.”
“There were,” she admitted. “But that was the most important.”
And not just for Grady. She may be an anomaly and a freak and created for things she didn’t understand, and her real father may or may not be some mysterious elf who kept abandoning her when she needed him most. But she wasn’t made by murderers. She wasn’t bad.
“Explain to me more about these attackers,” Sandor interrupted. “I would like to better understand my enemy.”
Sophie shivered as the five black-cloaked figures filled her mind. “There were more of them this time, but I didn’t recognize any of their voices.”
“They had a patch on their sleeve,” Keefe added as Elwin flashed more light around his face. “A white circle with an eye in the center, like it was staring at you. Totally creepy.”
“Can you project the symbol?” Grady asked Sophie, but she shook her head.
“I didn’t see it. I wish I had.”
“I’ll try to draw it,” Keefe offered. “I got a good look as I was aiming those star-blade things. And I sliced one of their shoulders pretty deep. Maybe it’ll leave a scar we can recognize.”
“Good boy,” Sandor told him.
“Yeah, well, who knows what would’ve happened if the Black Swan hadn’t shown up with their dwarves. Things were getting pretty bleak.”
“I wonder if they really would’ve taken us, though,” Sophie mumbled, almost to herself. “I think they were after Silveny. She was the only one they shouted at each other about. It was like Keefe and I were just grabbed by default.”
Grady turned pale as he processed that. “We’d better warn the guards to be on high alert.”
Sandor nodded.
“I don’t understand why they’d want her,” Sophie admitted.
“Power.” Grady went back to wearing a groove in the soil with his pacing. “Silveny is the only one who can reset the timeline. Whoever controls her has the Council at their mercy—to some extent. Which means I’d better alert them immediately.”
He pulled out his Imparter and moved far enough away that they couldn’t listen to what he said. Which was just as well. Sophie didn’t want to hear how Bronte reacted when he found out Silveny had been injured.
“Is she going to be okay?” she asked as Edaline rubbed a thick black balm into the part of Silveny’s wing where bits of bone poked through the skin.
“It’s hard to tell. She’ll definitely live. But . . . she may never fly again. This is a pretty bad break.”
Sophie looked away as Edaline set the bone. The crunching sound made her stomach turn—but not as much as the idea of Silveny being grounded for the rest of life. She knew better than anyone how hard that would be for the flight-happy alicorn.
“Speaking of breaks,” Elwin interrupted, “congratulations, Keefe, you’ve cracked four of your ribs. First time I’ve ever seen that around here.”
Keefe gave a weak smile. “I’m sure I’ll be proud in a few days—but for now the wh
ole stabbing pain in my chest is killing the triumph.”
Elwin handed him four tiny vials in all different colors. “Drink those and you’ll be back to causing trouble in a few hours.”
“Wow—really?” Keefe poured them all into his mouth at once. “That’s almost too easy.” He glanced guiltily at Sophie. “You really can’t take any?”
“Not yet.” She forced a smile, but he didn’t look convinced. Neither did Elwin, who stomped over to change her bandages.
“I still can’t believe you willingly took limbium. And not just a drop. An ounce. Sometimes I think you really do have a death wish, Sophie. And this”—he lifted her hand and pressed gently on the needle’s bruise—“is downright barbaric. I don’t know what this Mr. Forkle gave you, but he should be ashamed of himself.”
Sophie wished she could agree. But the truth was, “He had no choice. It was the only way to fix me.”
“Did it fix you?” Grady interrupted, rejoining them.
“I . . . don’t know. I felt something change during the reaction, but it’s hard to say until I try to use my abilities.”
“Which you won’t be doing for twenty-four hours—and don’t even think about arguing,” Elwin interrupted again. “If I have to leave you bruised and broken with no pain medicine, then you’re not doing anything else. And when your time limit is up, I’m treating all your injuries—and doing a thorough exam—before you’re allowed to test your abilities. Deal?”
“I’ll only agree if you do one thing,” Sophie countered. “Flash the light around my face like you did last time, when it went wrong.”
Elwin looked leery, so she added, “It’s only light. I just . . . need to know.”
He sighed and raised his hand. “I’d better not regret doing this,” he whispered as he clicked his fingers, and a thin blue orb flashed around her face.
Sophie held her breath, waiting for the pull and the pain. But nothing changed.
Tears burned her eyes as she laughed and waved the light away. “It didn’t hurt!”
Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she let hope swell and spread until she was filled with an almost giddy warmth that dulled her aches and pains and erased her fears and worries. If that part of the problem was fixed, then maybe everything was fixed. And if everything was fixed, then maybe she could fix a few other things that were broken.
“Can you take me to Everglen tomorrow?” she asked, hardly able to believe that in less than a day she might be able to look into Alden’s bright teal eyes and have him actually see her. Smile at her. Talk to her.
“That depends,” a sharp voice barked behind her, and all the warm hope burst with an icy shiver.
Bronte stood at the front of the other Councillors, his arms folded across his chest and a cold glint in his gray eyes. “You all may be exiled.”
SIXTY
WHY WOULD WE BE EXILED?” Sophie demanded, ignoring the pain as she stood to face the Councillors.
Bronte pointed to Sliveny’s prone form. “Look what you’ve done to the alicorn—do I need to remind you how important she is?”
“The cloaked guys did that—not us!” Keefe shouted.
“Yes, and the only reason they had the chance is because you took the alicorn away from the safety of her pen and the protections we’d put in place, and brought her somewhere incredibly dangerous,” Bronte snapped back. “Do you have any idea what chaos it will cause if we have to inform the populace that the rebels struck again, this time injuring the only creature who can reset the timeline?”
“So don’t tell them,” Keefe suggested, earning himself an icy glare from Bronte.
“And how, Mr. Sencen, are we supposed to hide this news when we’ve announced that the alicorn will be swooping around the Sanctuary in just over a week? She will clearly not be up for flying. We’ll be lucky if she’s still alive.”
His words felt like knives, and Sophie glanced at Silveny. An ugly red stain had seeped through the bandage on Silveny’s broken wing, and Sophie sent a silent plea for the glittering horse to be okay.
Grady ran a hand through his hair. “If anyone should be held responsible, it’s me. I gave Sophie permission to go.”
“So I could get fixed! It’s not like I did this for fun.” Sophie held out her bruised hand. “Does that look like fun?”
“No,” Councillor Emery agreed, looking away from the wound. He turned to Silveny’s unconscious form. “But you must understand how serious this situation is.”
Kenric stepped forward. “I think perhaps we’re focusing on the wrong concern. Sophie, do you still have the compass that led you to the Black Swan?”
Sophie started to nod, but as she reached for the charms she realized the bracelet was missing. She checked her pockets, the ground, anywhere—everywhere. “It’s gone.”
“Of course it is,” Bronte grumbled.
“Did I have it when they brought me back?” she asked Keefe, who was checking his pockets too.
“I didn’t notice. I was kinda distracted by how pale and unconscious you were.”
Edaline covered her mouth and looked away.
Grady cleared his throat. “I’m sure the Black Swan didn’t want anyone coming back. And I’d bet anything they’ve abandoned that location anyway, now that the other group has found it. How did they find you, by the way? Do you think they followed you?”
“On what?” Sophie asked. “We flew.”
“And there were other ways you could have gotten there,” Bronte interrupted. “Safer ways you could’ve taken instead of endangering the alicorn and likely crippling it!”
Sophie stared at her feet. If she’d known that, she might have gone a different way. But . . . the Black Swan instructed her to take Silveny. That was their idea—not hers.
Maybe they wanted this to happen, a niggling doubt whispered, but Sophie smothered it. No more doubting the Black Swan. They’d fixed her. They didn’t kill Jolie. They’d even come to their aid when the rebels attacked. Despite how confusing many of their methods were, they were the good guys.
Councillor Emery rubbed his temples and Sophie could only imagine the headache of arguments that must be raging in his mind as the other Councillors debated with each other.
“I think perhaps it is too early to make any decisions,” he finally announced, holding up his hands. “To decide if punishment is necessary before we know the full extent of the alicorn’s injuries would be foolish. My recommendation is that we reconvene tomorrow, after Miss Foster has been treated and Silveny is awake.”
The other Councillors murmured their agreement.
Bronte rolled his eyes. “What time can Miss Foster finally take her medicines?”
Elwin stepped forward. “Not until after sundown tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll be back at sunset.” Bronte raised his pathfinder like the matter had been decided.
“Wait!” Sophie called, turning to Councillor Emery. “I need a few more hours than that.”
“What for?” Bronte demanded.
“I need to go to Everglen.” She couldn’t risk that they might haul her away to Exile without giving her a chance to fix Alden. She had no idea if there was any part of him she could rescue, but there was no way she wasn’t going to try.
“You really believe you can heal his mind?” Kenric asked quietly.
“According to the Black Swan, I was designed that way.”
“Incredible,” Councillor Terik breathed.
“More like incredibly complicated,” Bronte barked, and Sophie wished she had something to throw at him. Leave it to him to find a problem with everything.
“What do you mean, Bronte?” Kenric asked.
“I mean that we’ve spent so long operating under the knowledge that we can’t fix broken minds that we’ve never had to consider whether we should.”
“You would leave Alden trapped in madness?”
“No,” Bronte admitted quietly. “His recovery would be a tremendous gain. But where do we go from there?
How do we decide who to heal and who not to heal?”
“How about the ones who were innocent—like Prentice?” Sophie suggested.
“Was Prentice innocent?” Bronte countered. “Regardless of whether he was working for good or ill, he was still violating our fundamental laws. Is that worthy of redemption?”
“Yes,” Sophie answered, expecting the others to echo her. But the Councillors stayed silent.
“Okay, what about someone like Brant?” Sophie tried. Grady and Edaline gasped, like they hadn’t considered the idea. “His mind was broken by accident.”
“I would still fear a slippery slope with that precedent,” Bronte replied.
“So what are you saying?” Councillor Emery asked him.
“Only that if this ability exists, it will need to be regulated and sanctioned—just like the breaks themselves. Careful thought and consideration will need to be given before each time it is used, and a unanimous vote should be required.”
“Unanimous?” Terik asked. “You realize how rarely we come to those?”
“Exactly why it should be a requirement.”
They argued back and forth and the others chimed in, some raising new points, others choosing sides. Sophie tried to keep up with it all but it got so complicated, and her body was so sore and tired, that she finally raised her hands and called out, “Excuse me!”
Her mouth went dry as all eyes returned to her. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. It’s just . . . Don’t you think we should wait until we find out if I can even do this before we start piling a mess of rules on it? And as the one who has the ability—don’t I get any say in when I will and won’t use it?”
“Yes to your first question,” Bronte conceded. “No to your second.”
Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but she caught Councillor Terik shaking his head and decided to refrain.
Councillor Emery rubbed his temples again. “Clearly, we need to explore the realms of possibility before we discuss the complexities of the reality. So how about we convene at Everglen an hour after sunset and see what happens? We can debate further from there.”
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