Fitz snorted. “Right—like you could tell with your mom?”
Which was a super-low blow.
But Keefe let it go. “There’s an easy enough way to know for sure. We’ll ask the guards when they get back—see if they tell us the same story.”
“They will,” Alvar assured them. “I’m sure they’ll be back any second.”
But seconds turned into minutes. And when enough time had piled up, Keefe had to block Fitz from lunging for Alvar again.
“You did something to them, didn’t you?” Fitz demanded. “They should be back by now!”
“There’s a lot of ground to cover out there,” Alvar argued. “They’re probably just being thorough. Please.” His eyes darted from his sister to Sophie. “I swear—I didn’t do anything to them.”
“He didn’t,” a voice agreed from the shadows beyond the gate—a voice that made the monster roar so loud, it nearly knocked her over. “I did.”
A force field flared with the final words, momentarily whiting out the world. And when Sophie’s eyes adjusted, she found herself staring at a scene straight out of her nightmares: a massive glowing dome on the other side of Everglen’s fence, with four elves inside.
Gethen.
Two black-cloaked figures.
And Vespera.
FORTY-EIGHT
I KNEW IT!” FITZ YELLED, LUNGING for Alvar again as Sophie reached for one of her daggers—and the rest of her friends and bodyguards drew weapons of their own.
“You know nothing,” Gethen assured Fitz, turning to the cloaked figure on his right. “And let’s make sure this doesn’t take any longer than necessary.”
“Spread out!” Sophie warned—but she was too late. The figure had to be Ruy, and he extended his arms, trapping their whole group inside a force field.
“Don’t!” Sandor shouted as Tarina swung her scythelike weapon at the wall of white energy, and Grizel barely pulled Tarina back before she electrocuted herself.
“How sweet,” Gethen said. “Goblins cooperating with a troll—I doubt that’ll last much longer.”
“It’ll last longer than you will,” Wylie snapped, thrusting his arms forward and blasting a blue beam into the force field.
“Still using the same tricks?” Ruy asked, waving his hands and thickening the shield until the world turned blurry, like Vaseline smeared over glass. “You should try practicing sometime. It does wonders.”
“It does,” Dex agreed, tossing a handful of shiny brass gadgets that . . .
. . . bounced harmlessly off the shield.
Ruy cracked up as Dex met the same frustrating result with a handful of copper spheres. “Anyone else?”
“Yes!” Tam said, shoving his palms forward and launching a bolt of whirling shadows at the force field. The darkness sank into the white light and fanned out like fissures—and a second bolt made the black lines spread, like cracks in glass.
“So you’re the Shade I’ve heard so much about,” the other cloaked figure said, flicking her wrist and drawing all of Tam’s shadows over to her—and oh, how the monster loved the sound of Umber’s voice.
It brought Sophie to her knees, the world spinning, fading, slipping . . .
“Easy, Foster,” Keefe said, dropping to the ground beside her, peeling off one of her gloves and tangling her fingers with his. Soft blue breezes flitted through her mind, and he whispered, “Breathe,” as he pulled off her other glove to give her double the energy. “Just breathe.”
“Looks like our last visit left an even bigger impression on the moonlark than I’d hoped,” Gethen noted. “Well done, Umber.”
Sophie set her jaw, wanting to snap back with something clever and fierce.
But she didn’t feel clever or fierce.
She felt like a clueless, weak fool who’d missed the Neverseen’s plan yet again. And now she couldn’t even stand strong as she faced them.
“You’ve got this,” Keefe told her, sending more breezes into her mind as he helped her back to her feet.
“So this was never about the festival,” Wylie said through gritted teeth as he combined his blue light with Tam’s next blast of shadows.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Gethen told him. “The festival just isn’t involved the way Fintan assumed it would be—and really, he should’ve known better. If he wants to ruin our plans, it’s going to take a whole lot more than tattling on us to the Black Swan.”
“So Fintan isn’t a part of this?” Marella asked as Umber unraveled all the progress Wylie and Tam had made on the force field.
Gethen tilted his head to study her. “I’d heard there was another new recruit. Gisela’s right—the moonlark’s greatest talent does seem to be convincing people to risk their lives for her misguided cause.”
“And where is Mommy Dearest tonight?” Keefe asked. “Aren’t you getting a little tired of doing all her dirty work for her? Or has there been another mutiny?”
“No mutiny,” Gethen assured him. “We’re all working together rather well, now that Fintan isn’t around to disrupt things.”
“Then where is she?” Keefe countered.
Gethen smiled. “At the festival.”
Panic flared with the words—but so did a fresh swell of confidence as Sophie reminded herself how thoroughly prepared the Collective and the Council were for whatever Keefe’s mom might be planning.
“I wouldn’t smile yet, Sophie,” Gethen told her. “You truly have no idea what’s going on.”
“Then why don’t you tell us?” she suggested, glad her voice was working again. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re holding us here.”
“Actually, I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” he said smoothly. “It’ll be so much more fun watching you discover it for yourselves.”
“Is that why you’re being so quiet?” Biana asked Vespera, and Sophie noticed that Biana had thrown back the sides of her cape to reveal her arms. The pale scars that Vespera had given her looked slightly brighter in the moonlight, but Biana definitely wasn’t ashamed—and her steps were steady as she stalked to the edge of their force field.
Vespera flashed one of her flat, emotionless smiles and strode closer to Biana, smoothing the front of her ridiculous gown. The gold bodice hung loose on Vespera’s frail frame, and the skirt flared so wide that Sophie wouldn’t have been surprised if there were hoops sewn into it. Between the dress and the fabric headpiece that Vespera had also worn the last time they saw her—which wrapped her dark hair in a net of jeweled chains to block elvin abilities—Vespera looked like she’d thought they’d be heading to a ball, not standing around in a dark forest, ready for . . . whatever this was.
“I must say, I thought you’d have made a bit more progress on your force field by now,” Gethen said, directing the comment to Tam. “I heard you’d been training.”
“I have been,” Tam snapped back, weaving his shadows with the purple rays that Wylie had started blasting. He slashed the beam at the force field, cutting straight through the white energy like butter.
“Foolish,” Umber said, clicking her tongue as she waved her arm and unraveled Tam’s shadows. “Polluting your power with light when you should be thriving on the darkness.”
She hissed words Sophie couldn’t understand—words that made the monster howl—and thick, unnatural black poured from her fingertips, twisting into an arrow.
“Why do you look so afraid?” Umber asked Tam as he stumbled back from the shadowflux. “This is your true strength. It’s time for you to embrace that.”
Sophie cried out as Umber hurled the arrow, and it zipped through the force field, aimed perfectly at Biana’s head. But Tam snarled something before the darkness hit, and the arrow vaporized into a thick black mist.
“Now that’s more like it,” Umber told him. “That I can work with.”
“Good,” Gethen said. “Then we should move this along.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Fitz asked, shoving Alvar forward. He’d bound Alvar’s h
ands behind his back with strips of his cloak and had a dagger pointed at Alvar’s side to keep him from fighting. “You trapped your accomplice with us.”
“What makes you think we want him?” Gethen asked.
“Why else would you be here?” Fitz countered. “You need him to do something for you—either here or at the festival.”
Gethen tilted his head. “What if I told you that you were right?”
“What?” Biana asked, the word mostly a gasp.
But Gethen kept his eyes on Fitz. “What if I told you that your brother is the key to everything we’re planning tonight—”
“I’M NOT!” Alvar shouted.
Gethen clicked his tongue. “So he says. But you know better, don’t you, Fitz? You’ve known all along that something didn’t add up—and no one would listen to you, would they? How frustrating that must’ve been. Even Sophie hasn’t believed you, has she? And we all know how much you rely on her. All this time, you were right. Is that what you want to hear?”
“This sounds like a game,” Keefe warned as Fitz’s arm shook, forcing him to adjust his grip on the dagger. At some point he’d lost the bandage Sophie had made for him, and his hand looked slippery and red.
“No game,” Gethen insisted, stepping closer, the light from the force field making his stare more piercing as it bored into Fitz. “Just a simple question. If I’m telling the truth—if Alvar’s the key—then how are you going to stop him from fulfilling his role?”
“I’M NOT PLAYING A ROLE!” Alvar screamed.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Gethen asked.
“He’s not pretending,” Sophie assured Fitz. “Alvar still doesn’t have any of his memories—I just checked.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Gethen argued, keeping his eyes locked on Fitz. “You know how we work. You know how carefully we plan things. You think we can’t pull the strings to make what we need happen, with or without Alvar knowing?”
“I’ll never help you!” Alvar swore.
“You already have. You met us out here, didn’t you? And that made your brother and all his friends rush over.” Gethen smiled as Fitz sucked in a breath. “I bet you had to drag everyone here, didn’t you, Fitz? And even now—as we’re talking—they still refuse to see what you do, don’t they? Look at your sister.”
Fitz did, and Biana looked . . . torn—her eyes mostly on the knife in Fitz’s bleeding hand.
“So the question is,” Gethen continued, “what are you going to do about it, Fitz? How do you stop the inevitable, when no one else will?”
Fitz straightened up. “I’ll knock Alvar out.”
“That’s all?” Gethen sighed dramatically. “Don’t you think we would’ve thought of that? Don’t you realize that everything you’ve done up until now has been completely predictable—except one thing. Only one: that dagger in your hand. I didn’t think you had it in you—but there you are, holding a permanent solution to the threat you’re facing. But will you have the courage to use it?”
“Okay, this is definitely a game,” Keefe warned as Fitz adjusted his grip on the weapon again.
“To what end?” Umber countered.
That’s what Sophie was trying to figure out—and not making any progress.
But Keefe was right—this was a game. And Sophie was pretty sure they were losing, if Fitz’s shaking was any indication, or the fact that Biana looked ready to vomit.
Careful of your echo, she transmitted to Fitz, taking a cautious step closer to him. That might be their plan—to make you collapse under all this stress and emotion so Alvar can get away.
Fitz’s eyes darted to hers, and he took another long, slow breath, lowering his dagger ever so slightly.
Gethen glared at Sophie. “Whatever you think you’ve figured out, I can assure you, you’re wrong.” His gaze shifted to Alvar. “Perhaps I’m trying to see if we recruited the wrong Vacker. Or perhaps I simply want everyone to know that you had a choice tonight.” He focused on Fitz again as he said it. “You have a chance, right now, to take control of this situation—a chance to eliminate the threat before it becomes anything more. It’s the only way to stop what’s coming next, I promise you. So the question is, will you take it? Or will you live with the regret of knowing you could’ve prevented everything coming next? And there are big things coming, Fitz. Bigger than you can imagine. Much, much bigger than what’s already been done.” He raised his sword, showing everyone how the blade was stained red. “Told you I’d find another use for it eventually,” he said to Sophie. “I do hope those guards weren’t friends of yours.”
Bile burned Sophie’s throat and tears stung her eyes as all the goblins let out a primal roar.
Gethen smiled wider. “So, Fitz. What’s it going to be?”
“Don’t,” Sophie said as Fitz raised the dagger again. “He’s manipulating you.”
“Probably,” Fitz admitted. “But . . . what if it’s not the way you think? What if this is their way of preparing their minds for what they’re about to do? Think about it—if they warn us and we ignore it, then they don’t have to feel guilty about whatever horrible things they do. Then it’s our fault, and they don’t have to worry about their sanity.”
“But what about your sanity?” she countered, glancing at her friends for help.
Keefe stepped up. “Yeah, uh, you realize they’re trying to get you to kill Alvar, right?”
“Of course I do!” Fitz snapped, turning to Biana. “But he’s a murderer.”
“I know,” Biana whispered, leaning on Tam and Dex for support. “But . . . you’re not.”
“And I’m not that person anymore!” Alvar swore.
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” Fitz knocked Alvar down to his knees.
“DON’T!” Biana shouted. “Don’t let them break you the way they broke him.”
“There has to be another way,” Linh added.
“And if there isn’t?” Fitz asked, tears gleaming in his eyes. “Can you live with yourselves if someone else dies tonight?”
“Yes,” Tam said immediately. “Because we’re not responsible for what they do. Only what we do.”
“How noble,” Gethen scoffed. “I wonder, though, if others will agree. Or if they’ll look back on this moment—after everything else unfolds—and see it as proof that the moonlark and her friends are too weak to do what needs to be done, even when the opportunity is handed to them.”
Fitz sucked in a shaky breath, staring at the dagger in his hand—not with fear, but determination.
“Please, Fitz,” Sophie begged. “I get it—I get why you think you have to do this. But this isn’t who we are.”
“Isn’t it?” he argued. “Why have we been training, then? Why are we carrying weapons if we aren’t going to use them? I thought we were fighting back!”
“But this isn’t fighting back,” she corrected. “This is preemptive murder.”
“She’s right,” Biana said, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it—but not this. This will break you—that’s what they want.”
Fitz stared at her for a long second, then at each of his friends, before his gaze settled on Sophie. “If I let him go,” he whispered, “we’re going to regret it.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “But if you kill him, we’ll regret it more. Even you.”
Please, she transmitted. Don’t let them do this to you. It’ll ruin you, and . . . I don’t want to lose you.
He sighed, and for a long second she couldn’t tell what he was going to do.
Then he lowered the dagger.
“I told you,” Vespera said, stalking closer to Gethen. “They will always make the wrong decision. They will always choose weakness. And now it is time for them to pay the consequences.”
Alvar groaned and slumped to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked.
Before he could answer, the world went black—and the monster roared.
But this time, the darkness didn
’t last.
This time Tam was there, shredding Umber’s shadows as fast as she could form them.
And Wylie was blasting the force field with searing blue light over and over.
This time we win, Sophie thought as their glowing cage unraveled.
She grabbed a throwing star and lined up her aim as Tam launched a bolt of shadows toward the Neverseen’s shield and . . .
Everything blinked away.
“I don’t understand,” Linh said as Wylie sent up a flare, illuminating nothing but grass and trees.
“I think I do,” Sophie murmured. She wobbled on her feet, and Keefe rushed over to steady her. “I think . . . that was an illusion—like the Councillors were at the festival.”
“She’s right!” Wylie blasted light toward a mirror hidden among the foliage, and the beam refracted off a dozen others.
“So they were never here?” Marella asked as Biana said, “Um, guys.”
“They have to be close,” Keefe reminded them. “Otherwise Umber and Ruy couldn’t have been able to make those force fields and shadows—those were real.”
“He’s right,” Ro said, sniffing the air. “I can smell a faint trail going this way!”
“Guys!” Biana shouted as the goblins charged after Ro. “We have another problem.”
“What?” Sophie asked, not sure how much more her brain could handle.
Biana’s eyes locked with Fitz’s, and her stare was pure, painful dread as she admitted, “Alvar’s gone.”
FORTY-NINE
HE CAN’T BE FAR,” KEEFE said as Tarina made a quick sweep of the clearing and Fitz shouted all kinds of furious things that Sophie tried her best to ignore.
She focused on opening up her mind and feeling for any trace of Alvar’s thoughts—but there was too much mental chaos drowning everything out.
“He can’t light leap with the Warden,” Dex reminded them.
Fitz barked a bitter laugh. “Your Warden is junk! If it worked, Alvar would be unconscious right now.”
“Yeah, what’s going on with your gadgets?” Biana asked quietly.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 56