Sophie raced after them, channeling all of her core energy to her legs to speed her downhill sprint. Somehow the guys managed to stay ahead of her, though, and as they drew dangerously close to the base, she focused on the warm hum in her mind, trying another brain push. The rare skill wasn’t technically cheating, since she was just channeling a different energy that most people couldn’t feel. But as her mental energy mixed with her burning muscles, she felt a strange sort of pull.
Her vision narrowed to a singular point—a speck of light in the distance—and as she rushed toward it she felt her feet leave the ground without realizing she’d decided to jump.
Wind whipped against her cheeks as she soared so high and fast she felt like she was flying. Then she started to drop and her vision cleared and she realized the purple branches of her base tree were far, far too close.
This was going to hurt.
EIGHTEEN
SOPHIE FLAILED AND TWISTED AND barely managed to grab on to a branch that stuck out a little farther than the others. Pain shot through her arms as she fought to hold on, but she gritted her teeth and . . .
Found herself stuck twenty feet above the ground with sharp bark slicing into her palms and her strength quickly fading.
But she was alive!
“What the . . . ?” Keefe shouted as Fitz transmitted, Are you okay?
I’m fine, she told him, searching for a way to get down. She really didn’t want to have to admit she was stuck like a treed cat. I just overestimated my strength, I guess.
I’ll say.
She kicked her legs, hoping that if she could swing to a more steady position, she’d be able to climb down.
Craaaaaaaaaack!
Before she could even scream, Fitz shouted, “I got her!” and two arms wrapped around her waist. The momentum from his jump pushed them sideways and somehow he managed to flip them before they crashed, sending them tumbling across the soft grass.
“Are you guys okay?” Keefe asked, rushing to where they’d landed.
“I think so.” Sophie wasn’t sure which was hurt more, her bruised body or her pride.
She wiped a giant splotch of mud off her cheek, trying not to think about how soggy and dirty her shirt felt as she pulled bits of leaves from her hair. At least her pants looked pretty normal. The black fabric hid the grass stains.
“Dude—Fitz—you should’ve seen how high you jumped to catch her—and the way you guys curved through the air and flipped across the ground? Awesome.”
Fitz laughed and rubbed his shoulder as he sat up.
“Are you really okay?” Sophie asked him.
“Yep. I’m just glad I caught you.”
He smiled as he said it and Sophie thought her heart might explode from the flutters. “Me too.”
“And you,” Keefe said, shoving between them. “What was up with the whole Amazing Flying Foster routine?”
She bit her lip, wondering if she should confess to the brain push. The only time they’d seen her do one was during a splotching match against Fitz, and they’d all been pretty weirded out by it. “I guess I’m still learning how to channel.”
“Uh—it was a little more than that. When did you learn how to blink?”
“Blink?”
“When you let the light pass through you and disappear. It’s like what Vanishers do, but it only lasts for a second,” Fitz explained. “Remember, I did it the day I found you—when you wouldn’t believe you were an elf?”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten about that. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Fitz laughed. “I felt the same way when I realized you were one of us.”
“Okay, you guys are seriously bumming me out with all this sappy reminiscing. Not to mention, uh, hello—Foster just flew. And blinked in and out while she was doing it. You aren’t developing another special ability are you? ’Cause seriously—save some for the rest of us.”
“Actually, I think she just wanted to distract you boys so we could win,” Biana said, tagging Fitz and Keefe from behind.
Keefe groaned. “If that really was your plan, you guys are evil geniuses,”
“It wasn’t our plan,” Sophie admitted.
“But the win still counts,” Biana added.
“No way—I’m calling shenanigans. You shouldn’t be able to—”
“You’re bleeding,” Fitz interrupted, lifting Sophie’s hand and examining her palm. Thin streams of red dripped down her skin. “These look bad, Sophie. You should get them treated.”
“I’m fine,” she said, trying not to think about the blood, or the fact that Fitz was technically holding her hand, since both things made her head spin way too fast. “Really. It’s not a big deal. We don’t need to call Elwin.”
Fitz grinned. “Actually, I was thinking we could just ask my mom. She always keeps some basic first aid in the house just to be safe.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, feeling her face flame.
Keefe snorted. “Only Foster has a physician on standby.”
“THIS MIGHT TINGLE A BIT,” Della told Sophie as she smeared a bright orange salve along both of her palms.
Sophie tried not to flinch as the cream sank into her skin, zinging like tiny jolts of electricity. Fitz, Keefe, and Biana were watching her, and she didn’t want them seeing how squeamish she still was about medical things. Especially since elvin medicine didn’t use things like needles or machines like humans did.
“That should do it.” Della wiped the sticky orange goo away, revealing soft, scrape-free skin. “And I have something that will help with the bruising, too.”
She tossed her chocolate brown hair and stood, her aquamarine gown shimmering with the movement. No matter how many times Sophie had seen her, she couldn’t help staring at Della. There was something unreal about the beauty of her wide, cobalt blue eyes and heart-shaped lips. Though it might’ve also had something to do with the way Della disappeared and reappeared with every step she took. She didn’t realize she did it—Vanishers rarely did—but even after almost a year it still made Sophie wonder if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Was that what she’d looked like as she was blinking?
The crystal walls of Everglen were cut like prisms, shooting streaks of color in every direction as Della crossed the room. She removed two round green vials from the drawer of a small apothecary cabinet and handed one to Sophie and one to Fitz when she returned. “This will ease any aches from the fall.”
The label said ACHEY BREAK and it had the Slurps and Burps logo.
Sophie swallowed the bitter serum, and it rushed through her like warm bubbles floating into all the places she’d felt sore.
“Drink this, too,” Della said, handing her a clear fluted bottle labeled YOUTH. The water had a special enzyme that helped keep everyone healthy. “And why don’t you change into something of Biana’s? I can ask the gnomes to clean your tunic before we send you home. That way Grady and Edaline won’t know about your little ‘accident.’ ”
“Eh, I’m sure they’re used to Foster’s catastrophes by now,” Keefe said, clapping her on the back. “She has one every other week.”
Sophie sighed as everyone laughed, hating that he was right.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Della asked.
“You have to,” Biana told her. “We’re having an aurenflare to celebrate school starting.”
“Um, great.” She still needed to talk to Alden anyway.
Keefe smirked. “You have no idea what that is, do you?”
“It’s . . .”
It’s a special kind of bonfire, Fitz transmitted.
It was hard not to smile—and Sophie was careful not to look at Fitz as she folded her arms and told Keefe, “It’s a bonfire.”
Keefe glanced at Fitz, then back to her. “Telepaths,” he grumbled.
Fitz grinned at her, and this time everything inside Sophie turned fluttery. Thanks.
Anytime.
BIANA GAVE HER A RED tunic with a white sil
k sash and tiny white roses embroidered along the V-neck collar. It was too bright and too fancy and too fitted—but Biana had insisted and told her to clean up and meet her downstairs.
Biana’s bathroom was like a shrine to all things girl, complete with hair-curling elixirs and rosy-cheek powder. For about half a second Sophie thought about trying some. Then she washed her face, brushed as much of the mud out of her hair as she could, pulled the parts that were still crunchy back with one of Biana’s jeweled barrettes, gathered up her dirty tunic, and headed back downstairs to rejoin the others.
“Well, if it isn’t Sophie Foster.”
Sophie backed up to find Alden sitting at his huge black desk in his round office. Half the wall was a curved window overlooking the lake behind the mansion. The other half was a floor-to-ceiling aquarium, filled with all kinds of strange floating creatures.
He motioned for her to come inside. “I almost didn’t recognize you. I take it Della and Biana have been playing dress up?”
“Well, they sort of had to.” She held out her muddy tunic and explained what happened. She even admitted she’d used a brain push.
“How far did you fly?” he asked, standing to look out the window.
She moved to his side and pointed to the hill she’d climbed, explaining that she’d jumped from about midway down and flown to the tree with the lavender leaves.
“That’s an incredible distance,” Alden said after a second. “An impossible distance. And you blinked as you were doing it?”
“I guess. I wasn’t trying to.”
“Fascinating,” Alden whispered.
“So . . . how weird is that, compared to, like, normal people?”
“You are normal, Sophie. That doesn’t mean you can’t also be exceptional.”
“You realize those two things are opposites, right?”
“Actually, someday you’ll find that when you stop equating normal with acceptance, the two are far more similar than you think.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Alden laughed. “Give it time.”
Sophie glared out the window. She hated when adults said things like that.
Glints of silver caught her attention, and she focused on two graceful birds floating on the lake. Their necks were hooked like swans and their heads were crested with wispy feathers. Long silver tails like peacocks trailed behind them as they glided along the reeds.
“Are those . . .”
“Moonlarks.” Alden finished. “I borrowed them from the Sanctuary. Thought it might be good to study their behavior—see if it gave me any insights.”
The Black Swan had dubbed Sophie’s creation Project Moonlark because moonlarks lay their eggs in the ocean and let the tide carry them away, forcing the babies to survive on their own. In Sophie’s case they’d hidden her in a sea of humans, though they’d at least left her help—even if Mr. Forkle had been grumpy and smelled weird and used to drive her crazy.
Mr. Forkle cared.
“Did you learn anything interesting?” she asked quietly.
“Yes. They’re fascinating creatures. Which reminds me. I seem to remember you needing to tell me something when I was last at Havenfield. I’m sorry I haven’t followed up. I’ve been a bit . . . overwhelmed.”
He sank back into his thronelike chair, and Sophie noticed how tired he looked. Faint shadows made his bright eyes look sunken, and there was a tight crease between his brows.
“Anything I need to know about?” she asked, expecting him to say his standard, No reason to worry.
Instead he frowned and murmured, “Our world is changing, Sophie.”
He stared into space for so long she thought he must be done. But then he added, “What happened to you and Dex frightened people. Shattered their sense of safety and confidence in the Council—not that anyone blames you, of course.”
Some of the people in Mysterium seemed to. . . .
“But we’ll have it under control soon,” he promised. “Silveny is a wonderful symbol of hope, and the Council is planning a huge celebration for when we move her to the Sanctuary. The sooner you have her ready, the better.”
Great, like she needed more pressure.
And wouldn’t catching her kidnappers be a much better way to restore people’s sense of safety?
“So what was it you needed to tell me?”
She bent and reached into her ankle pocket. “I found this on my tree in the Wanderling Woods. Notice anything strange about the locket charm?”
She handed him the bracelet.
“The sign of the swan,” he whispered as he opened the compass. “I’m guessing the inscription is in code?”
She was surprised he couldn’t read it. “It says ‘Let the past be your guide.’ ”
The crease between his brows deepened. “It specifically says ‘guide’?”
“Yeah. Is that important?”
She waited for him to answer, but he just watched the strange creatures floating in his aquarium as the sunset turned the sky orange and pink.
“It certainly gives us a lot to think about,” he finally said, handing her back the bracelet.
“That’s it? Come on, I’m not stupid. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I would never think you’re stupid, Sophie. I simply need more time to consider this from every angle. Give me a few days to go through my files and see if a compass holds any specific significance to the Black Swan before we discuss anything. And you should search your memories, see if you can trigger anything. But not tonight. Tonight”—he stood, offering her his hand—“we have an aurenflare!”
She really wasn’t in the mood for a fancy bonfire thing, but she stuffed the silver bracelet back into her pocket, glad he at least wasn’t keeping the charm. Before she took his hand, though, she had one more thing she needed to ask.
The words stuck in her throat and she almost lost her nerve. But if she was ever going to figure this out, she needed to know what he thought.
“Do you think the Black Swan murdered Jolie?”
NINETEEN
ALDEN FROZE, AND THE PANIC in his eyes made Sophie worry she’d gone too far. But he blinked it away and whispered, “I hope not.”
That . . . wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was better than yes.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I don’t think they did.” It felt good to say it out loud. Made it feel real. “And I think the clue might have something to do with that. Something in the past they want me to find that would help clear their name.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Alden said slowly. “But whose past? Yours?”
Sophie shook her head. She didn’t know her past—not her real one anyway. She didn’t even know who her real parents were. All Alden had learned from Prentice was her DNA.
She gasped. “What if it’s Prentice?”
“Prentice?” Alden repeated, turning pale.
“Yeah. He’s the one who led you to me, right? So he probably knows everything about me. Maybe if you brought him to me I could—”
He grabbed her shoulders. “Stop right there, Sophie. I know what you’re going to say and you do not realize the danger. A broken mind cannot be probed. The Black Swan knows that. Everyone knows that. Prentice is not the answer. Prentice is nothing. Believe me, I can’t tell you how much I wish it weren’t so.”
His voice cracked on the last part and he looked away. When he turned back to her he looked fifty years older.
“Yo, Foster!” Keefe shouted from somewhere down the hall, “What’s taking so long? You have another medical emergency?”
“Ignore him, Sophie,” Della called. “Beauty should never be rushed!”
Something passed across Alden’s face, lightening some of the shadows and erasing the hard lines. He released her shoulders. “We should go. People are waiting for us. People who need us.”
Sophie nodded. She wasn’t ready to drop the Prentice idea yet, but Alden was clea
rly done with the conversation. Maybe he’d change his mind after he did more research. Otherwise she had no idea how she’d ever get to Prentice on her own. Exile wasn’t a place she could just drop by for a visit—not that she’d ever be crazy enough to go there.
She followed Alden to the back of the mansion, resisting the urge to duck as colored streams of water shot over their heads in graceful arcs all through the hallway. An arched golden door led outside to a wide stone patio overlooking the glassy lake where everyone had gathered.
“Oh, Sophie,” Della gasped when she saw her. “You really should wear that color more often. Makes your eyes even more striking. Especially with your hair that way.”
“Mom, you’re embarrassing her,” Biana said, pushing past Della and Alden and dragging Sophie over to an ornate silver bench. “She is right, though,” she whispered. “Red is definitely your color.”
“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled.
She slouched, feeling like she was back in her first day at Foxfire when Dame Alina flashed a giant spotlight right at her.
“What?” she asked, when she caught Fitz and Keefe staring at her.
“Nothing,” they both mumbled.
Three gnomes broke the uncomfortable silence as they dragged a bundle of enormous black fan-shaped leaves to the footed silver basin in the center of the benches. They carefully formed the leaves into a tower, and Alden lit the top with a long copper match. Flames in every color of the spectrum raced down the stems, growing into an enormous teardrop-shaped bonfire that filled the air with a sweet, sticky aroma, like melting sugar.
Della passed out skewers with green brattails speared on the ends, and they roasted them in the flames. When the sausage-flavored tubers turned an ashy brown, they wrapped them in a soft yellow bread that tasted like melted cheese. Sophie felt ready to explode after devouring three, but Della insisted she still try a ripplenut and handed her a skewer lined with round yellow nuts. The shells turned orange as they roasted, and Biana showed her how to crack them open and suck out the juice inside. Sophie’s eyes watered as the warm goo coated her tongue, but it was worth the heat. It tasted like butter and vanilla and honey melted together with a hint of cinnamon and caramel.
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