FORTY-SIX
WE SHOULD CANCEL THE FESTIVAL!” Sophie couldn’t tell who shouted it that time. Her house had been crammed with so many people yelling at each other for so many hours that she couldn’t keep track of it all anymore.
As soon as they’d arrived back at Havenfield, Mr. Forkle had hailed the rest of the Black Swan’s Collective, and all twelve Councillors, and Alden, and Luzia, and Orem Vacker—and gathered Grady and Edaline and all of Sophie’s bodyguards.
And while he’d been doing that, Sophie had hailed all of her friends and told them to hurry over as well—everyone except Marella. Since the Council had to be involved, it was smarter to keep Marella—and anything to do with pyrokinesis—out of this. Mr. Forkle had even decided not to share that Fintan had made any demands, knowing it would raise too many questions.
Once they figured out what to do about the festival, Sophie was going to tell Marella everything and let her decide what role she wanted to play. But she was starting to think that was never going to happen—especially when someone chimed in with yet another “We can’t cancel the festival!” and the debate circled back around.
The argument fell into two camps.
Camp A—aka Camp We Should Cancel the Festival—kept pointing out that if they didn’t cancel, they’d be putting thousands of lives in danger and giving the Neverseen a chance for another very public victory.
And Camp B—the We Can’t Cancel the Festival Crew—had a varied list of arguments that ranged from “We don’t even know if Fintan’s telling the truth” to “This could be our chance to finally arrest the Neverseen,” plus a dash of “If we cancel the festival, we’re telling our people we have no confidence in our ability to protect them.”
As for who belonged in each camp—it changed moment by moment.
Even Sophie went back and forth, wishing there were a way to trap the Neverseen without risking any lives.
The only thing she knew for certain was that Luzia was being very quiet. So when the argument rose to yet another shouting crescendo, Sophie used the distraction to weave her way over to where Luzia stood gazing out at the alicorn pasture.
“Don’t you think it’s time to tell us the truth about your connection to Vespera?” she asked Luzia under her breath.
Luzia rolled her eyes. “I have told you the truth—just like I told your puffy leader the truth when he showed up at my house and asked me about things you weren’t authorized to share.”
“I—”
Luzia held up her hand. “Yes, I know. You don’t work alone. But I do. Which is why I kept my contact with Vespera limited to discussing her designs for shielding our cities—and her designs required a Flasher to implement them, so claiming they were stolen would be ludicrous.”
“Then why is she fixated on you?” Sophie countered.
“How would I know? She’s clearly unstable—though quite honestly, I’m not convinced that she is fixated on me. The word of a murderous Pyrokinetic is hardly reliable. Particularly since Fintan and I have a history.” Luzia glanced over her shoulder, probably making sure no one was listening, and Sophie found herself staring at Luzia’s pointed ears, wondering how small the world must’ve been all those thousands of years ago. Apparently it was fairly small, since Luzia added, “One of the five Pyrokinetics who died during Fintan’s ill-advised Everblaze lesson was a close friend of mine. So I was one of the louder advocates of banning the ability. Perhaps this is Fintan’s way of settling that score. Tying my name in with whatever horrors he and Vespera have worked up, trying to drag me down with them, using claims so vague it’s impossible for me to concretely defend myself.”
Sophie sighed.
She was getting very tired of having the people she didn’t trust make so much sense—especially since they were contradicting each other.
But she still had questions. “What’s the Vacker legacy?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Luzia argued. “A legacy is rarely one thing. And it’s generally defined by those outside looking in, rather than those living it. That’s like me asking you what the moonlark’s legacy is.”
Fair points.
“Fine. How do you think Vespera would define it?” Sophie asked her.
Luzia shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. You’re asking me to speculate on how a disgraced fugitive I barely know would define my family’s contributions to this world. The most I can say is she probably doesn’t like us. Criminals tend to despise those on the side of the law.”
“Are you on the side of the law?” Sophie asked. “Or are you on your own side?”
“I could ask you the same question, couldn’t I?” Luzia leaned in closer. “Tell me, Sophie: How many things are you hiding from the Council right now? I’d wager it’s even more than I am.”
Another very valid point.
So valid that Sophie was almost ready to concede and turn her attention back to the still ongoing argument when she realized . . .
“What about the hatching?” she whispered. “It happens on the eclipse, right?”
“Technically the morning after,” Luzia corrected. “But the eclipse always triggers it. Why?”
“Because the Celestial Festival is always on the eclipse too.”
Luzia shook her head. “That’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t like coincidences.”
“Neither do I. But that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. My son doesn’t know what you—and now your order, thanks to you—know about my properties, and he’s the one who instituted the traditions that grew into the festival.”
“You never told Orem?”
“I never told anyone. Like I keep saying: I work alone. And I’m done with this conversation—but here’s some food for thought before I go. The hatching never takes place anywhere near the festival. And this year it’s farther away than ever—which is another coincidence. The Prism Peaks simply have an excellent view of the eclipse’s totality.”
“The Prism Peaks?” Sophie repeated.
Luzia raised one eyebrow. “That’s the festival’s location—or it will be if they don’t cancel it. Perhaps you should be paying better attention.”
With that she turned and shoved her way into the crowd of arguing adults, crossing to the other side of the room. And only then did Sophie notice that Keefe had subtly positioned himself on Luzia’s other side at some point during their conversation.
She scooted closer to him. “I don’t suppose you managed to get a reading on her while we were talking, did you?”
“I tried. But it’s kinda hard without physical contact,” Keefe admitted. “I could tell she’s worried, though—really worried, if I felt it in the air. But I couldn’t tell why. She could be nervous for Orem’s safety at the festival. Or nervous that her name’s wrapped up in this. Or it could have to do with whatever you guys were whispering about. I couldn’t hear much, but it sounded like there’s some stuff you haven’t shared with the group.”
“A little. I’ll catch you guys all up as soon as this craziness is over.” She pointed to the ongoing argument, which seemed to have escalated between Wraith and Councillor Alina—and looked especially bizarre as Alina shouted at a floating, bodiless cloak. “And by the way,” she added quietly, “there’s something you and I need to talk about too.”
“Oh?” His eyes darted to the necklace Fitz had given her, and Sophie had to resist the urge to cover the sparkly teal heart with her palm.
“Not that,” she whispered, wishing her face didn’t feel so warm. “It’s something else. Just don’t leave when the others do, okay?”
Keefe nodded, his lips flicking with the slightest hint of a smirk. “Don’t worry, Foster. I’m not going anywhere.”
• • •
A ridiculous number of hours later, just as the sun started to brighten the dawn sky, the arguing masses finally reached a consensus.
They weren’t going to let the Neverseen spoil their beloved tradition.
Canceling the festiv
al would be giving in to fear—and passing up an opportunity to get ahead of their enemies. So they were going to stand strong, up their security, and set a trap instead.
It felt like the right decision.
But it was also a risk. And Sophie wished there was a way to warn everyone that the festival might be more dangerous than they realized.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Forkle said, his eyes on her even though his voice was raised enough to address the whole room. “And it’s good that you’re feeling that responsibility. We all should. It’s our job now to come up with a plan that will protect every single innocent person at the festival. We’ll have to be more thorough and prepared than we ever have been before.”
“And more clever,” Councillor Emery added, his rich voice raspy from the endless debating. “If we’re setting a trap for the Neverseen, we can’t have our security giving us away.”
“And the trap needs to work,” Bronte emphasized. “We can’t blow this chance.”
Mr. Forkle nodded. “Which is why we’re going to need everyone’s full support and cooperation. Yours especially,” he said, pointing to Orem, Luzia, Tam, and Wylie. “Illusion is going to be key to hiding our defenses.”
The four of them agreed. And that seemed to settle things for the night—if night was even the right word anymore. Mr. Forkle promised to contact everyone after they’d had a chance to rest, assuring them that he’d figure out when and where they could start working on their plans for the trap and the security. They had six days to figure it out, and it was going to be a massive multispeciesial endeavor like nothing they’d ever attempted before.
Honestly, it was pretty amazing watching the Black Swan and the Council work so closely together. Sophie hoped it was proof that this time they’d get it right. Otherwise . . .
Nope.
It was better not to let failure be an option.
This time, the Neverseen were going to lose.
The adults dispersed after that, but Sophie asked her friends to stay, taking a few minutes to tell them about Fintan’s demand for Marella, and everything she hadn’t already shared about Luzia and the troll hives. She could tell Tarina wasn’t happy with her for that. But Sophie—unlike Luzia—didn’t work alone.
“I don’t know if any of the Luzia stuff’s important,” she said when she’d finished. “But I wanted to make sure you guys all knew about it, in case it is.”
All of her friends nodded.
“Can I go with you when you talk to Marella tomorrow?” Biana asked. “Or, I guess I should say ‘today.’ ”
“We should all go, shouldn’t we?” Fitz said.
Biana shook her head. “Not if we’re going to her house. Her mom can’t handle a crowd like that.”
Caprise Redek struggled with her emotions thanks to a traumatic brain injury she’d suffered years earlier. And the fact that Biana had thought of that—and Sophie hadn’t gotten that far yet—made it clear how smart it would be to have Biana with her.
“Hail me when you wake up and we’ll figure out when to head over,” Sophie told Biana.
“And let us know how it goes,” Dex told both of them.
Sophie promised she would, and with that, her friends started leaping back to their houses. But Keefe hung back with Ro, just like she’d asked him to.
So did Fitz. And he looked a little confused when he realized Keefe wasn’t leaving.
I asked him to stay so I could tell him what Fintan said about his memories, Sophie explained telepathically.
Want me to stay too? Fitz offered.
Sophie chewed her lip. I think it’ll be better if it’s just him and me.
Why?
“Uh, fun as it is being here for a Fitzphie starefest,” Keefe interrupted, “you don’t really need me for that, so . . .”
“Sorry,” Sophie told him, “I was just . . . saying goodbye to Fitz.”
Which sounded like more of a dismissal than she meant it to.
Sorry, she transmitted to Fitz, wondering why this felt so unnecessarily complicated. I know Keefe’s your best friend—and I know we were both searching his memories. But I just . . . I think he’ll take it easier if it comes from me.
But we didn’t really learn anything big, Fitz reminded her.
Exactly. That’s why I’m worried. This is probably the most he’s going to learn about that memory and it isn’t much, so—
“Seriously, I’ll just go,” Keefe told them. “You guys carry on with all the staring and the mega mood swings.”
Fitz sighed. “No, it’s fine. I’m going.”
Ro muttered something that sounded a little like “about time,” but they all ignored her.
Thank you, Sophie transmitted to Fitz.
He nodded, stepping closer and pulling her into a hug—a hug that lasted longer than Sophie expected. Long enough that she finally had to pull away, hoping her face wasn’t super red.
“Hail me when you’re back from Marella’s, okay?” Fitz asked, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I will,” Sophie promised.
His fingers lingered on her cheek a few seconds longer. Then he raised his home crystal up to the light and leaped away.
Keefe whistled, tearing his hands through his hair. “Wow, so that’s how it’s going to be now, huh? I mean, I appreciate you skipping the whole goodbye-smoochy-smoochy thing, but—”
“Ugh, we don’t do that yet,” Sophie corrected—and then instantly regretted it.
Keefe raised one eyebrow. “Does that mean—”
“I have some news about your mom,” she jumped in, going for an immediate subject change.
And it worked a little too well. All the blood seemed to drain from Keefe’s face, and he squared his shoulders like he was bracing for impact.
“Well . . . I guess ‘news’ is the wrong word,” Sophie hedged. “Maybe ‘update’ is better? Or . . . ‘clarification’?”
Ugh, why was this so hard?
She blew out a breath and plunged ahead. “Fintan let Fitz and me each ask one question when he was trying to prove that we could trust him. So I asked him about the shattered memory you recovered—”
“You did?” Keefe interrupted.
“Well, first I tried asking about all your missing memories, but Fintan called me out for being too broad. So I asked about the damaged memory we found. And he confirmed that you weren’t supposed to get that one back.”
Keefe closed his eyes. “Anything else?”
“A little. He said your mom kept certain projects to herself, so he didn’t know very much about them. But he did tell me that your mom sent you to that house in London to try to recruit someone for something—and yes, she was trying to recruit a human. Fintan said it didn’t work out. And . . . that’s all he told me. I know that’s not much to go on, but . . .”
“Hey, it’s more than I had,” he said quietly.
His legs were wobbling at that point, and he stumbled over to the staircase and sank onto the bottom step.
Sophie sat beside him, reaching for his hand. “Are you okay?”
He stared at their tangled fingers. “Yeah.”
The silence stretched and stretched, until Sophie had to break it. “I’m sorry it’s not more.”
“Uh, you so don’t need to apologize. I mean . . . you had one question you could ask Fintan, and you used it to ask about my memory. That’s . . .”
He looked away, blinking hard.
It looked like he was fighting back tears, but Sophie could tell he didn’t want her to see them. Even Ro had stepped back, standing quietly in the corner. Giving them space.
So Sophie just squeezed his hand a little tighter, letting him cling to her if he needed to.
“Thank you for thinking about me,” he whispered. “No one does that.”
“Lots of people care about you, Keefe,” Sophie gently corrected.
He sighed. “I guess, but . . .”
“But what?” she asked when he didn’t
finish.
He turned to study her for a long second before he shook his head. “But I should let you get some sleep. Sounds like we have a big day ahead of us.”
• • •
“So this is where Marella lives,” Sophie said mostly to herself as she studied the sprawling structure. The domed roofs at varying heights and the bougainvillea draping the walls reminded her a little of pictures she’d seen of the Greek isles. But all the crystal and silver made it look much more elvin.
“You’ve never been here?” Biana asked.
Sophie shook her head.
And for some reason—probably because Marella always looked a little disheveled—she’d been imagining the Redek house to be a bit more chaotic. Maybe even a little run-down. But everything was immaculate. Neat rows of perfectly trimmed hedges. Vibrant flower beds without a single weed. A square reflecting pool that was so glassy, it looked like a mirror of the sky. Even the silver railings lining the house’s numerous balconies gleamed like they’d just been polished—though Sophie couldn’t look at them without wondering which was the balcony that Marella’s mom had fallen off when she injured herself.
They all looked very high up. And the ground beneath them did not look soft. So it was pretty amazing that Caprise had survived.
“Are you guys just going to stand there all day?” Marella asked, making Sophie and Biana jump. They’d both been so busy studying the property that they hadn’t heard Marella open the front door. “Or are you going to tell me what was so urgent that we had to meet here?”
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 53