Grady and Edaline didn’t argue, and Sophie excused herself to go to her room. She tried to figure out what she was feeling as she rifled through her clothes—clothes Della had personally picked for her after Fitz brought her to the Lost Cities—but it was a mix of too many emotions.
Calm! Silveny told her, filling her mind with a rush of warmth. Sophie used it to fuel her as she showered and changed into the emerald green gown she’d chosen. Tiny diamonds dotted the bodice, and the full skirt had so many layers of tulle she was guaranteed to trip at least a dozen times. She felt completely ridiculous as she fastened a jeweled velvet cape across her shoulders, tied part of her hair back with a green satin ribbon, and brushed gloss on her lips. But she knew Della would want everyone to dress their best.
“You look . . . wow,” Vertina said as Sophie checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. “What’s the occasion?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Something in her tone must’ve convinced Vertina, because she didn’t press further. A quiet knock interrupted the awkward silence that followed.
Grady cleared his throat as he entered, looking more regal than she’d ever seen. “Feels like we keep doing this, doesn’t it?” He smiled sadly, and reached into his pocket. “I’m sorry to keep giving you these on such somber occasions, but I thought you might want to wear this.”
He handed her a Ruewen crest pin, identical to the one Brant stole.
“Where did you—?”
“I’ve been in Atlantis a lot lately, so I had the jeweler make it for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as he helped her pin it through her cape.
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he took her hand and they walked to the Leapmaster where Edaline and Sandor were waiting. Edaline’s gown was covered in lace and jewels, and even Sandor had changed into silky green pants. No one said anything as they gathered under the crystals, and Grady gave the command for the Wanderling Woods. But Sophie could’ve sworn she heard Edaline whisper, “Here we go again,” as the light swept them away.
FIFTY
SOPHIE WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN THE entire elvin world had packed themselves into the Wanderling Woods—but even the massive crowd couldn’t break the unnatural silence of the solemn trees. There wasn’t a dry eye in the group, and the grief was so thick it felt almost tangible, like if Sophie breathed too deeply it might choke her.
Grady and Edaline were needed up front with the Vackers, but Sophie hung back with Sandor, hiding on the fringes and hoping no one would notice her. The last thing she needed was for people to start whispering about “the girl who was taken.” Especially since goblins weren’t supposed to be in the Wanderling Woods. But Sandor had insisted.
There was no fanfare as the Councillors appeared on the crest of one of the taller hills, and Sophie was surprised to see they’d brought their bodyguards too. She listened for grumblings about the Council letting goblins near the Wanderlings, but all she saw were stunned stares, and no one said a word as Councillor Emery called for Della to step forward.
Sophie was too far back to see what happened next—but that was better. She didn’t want to watch the seed planted, and she reminded herself once again that it didn’t mean Alden was gone. Her own “grave” was proof enough of that.
A chime sounded and the silent crowd somehow managed to get quieter. Sophie closed her eyes and tried to think of something happy, but she could still hear the ping of shattering glass that rang through the air, and it felt like everything inside her split open.
That was when the sniffling started. Followed by quiet sobs.
Sophie opened her eyes, feeling them burn with tears when she saw the red, weeping faces all around her. She’d never been surrounded by so much sadness, and it made her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe. She backed away, shoving through the crowd until she found a pocket of space near a Wanderling. She sank to the ground, resting her head on her knees and sucking in deep breaths.
“I should take you home, Miss Foster,” Sandor said, his high-pitched voice sounding way too perky with all the mournful moans.
“No.” She couldn’t leave without paying her respects to the family. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Sophie?”
Sophie looked up and found Tiergan frowning at her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just . . . sad,” she said as she forced herself back to her feet.
“These always are.” He turned to stare at the forest. “Hard to believe only a few short weeks ago I was here for yours.”
Had it really only been a few weeks?
“Wait—you were at my funeral?”
“Of course I was. Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
“I don’t know. I try not to think about it, honestly. It’s kind of weird.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” He fell silent for a second. “You would’ve been pleased by how many people came. Almost as many as today.”
She couldn’t help turning back toward the enormous crowd, which was slowly forming into a receiving line. “Wow, really?”
“Of course, Sophie. Your loss was deeply felt. By all of us.”
“I . . . guess it’s a good thing I’m still alive, then.”
He smiled. But when he spoke again his voice was a bit thick. “Yes. It definitely is.”
And that’s how it will be for Alden, she told herself. This was a mistake. She was going to bring him back.
“I should probably go,” Tiergan said, grabbing his pathfinder from his pocket.
“You’re leaving? You haven’t—”
“The Vackers don’t want to see me, Sophie—and this day is hard enough for them. I don’t want to do anything to make it any harder.”
Sophie stared at her hands. The Vackers didn’t want to see her, either. Would she be making it harder for them by staying?
Tiergan tilted her chin up. “You should stay, Sophie. Trust me on that, okay?”
She nodded.
He told her he’d see her in session on Tuesday, then stepped into the light.
Sophie stood there, staring at the space where he’d been.
“Grady and Edaline are nearing the front of the line,” Sandor said, forcing her to snap out of it.
She turned to make her way back toward her family, but as she wove through the crowd she found herself smack in the center of the Hekses. Sophie locked eyes with Stina and braced for some sort of insult or drama. But Stina just wiped her tearstained cheek and stepped aside to let Sophie pass. Sophie could still hear her crying as she joined Grady and Edaline.
“Excuse me, did someone give you permission to cut?” Keefe asked. He tried to sell the joke with a weak smile, but his eyes were too red and swollen.
“I’m sorry,” an elegant woman with blond hair woven into an intricate braid said. “Just ignore my son if he’s bothering you.”
“He’s not bothering me.” Sophie glared at Keefe’s mother and leaned closer to ask Keefe, “You okay?”
He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ve been better.”
Grady wrapped his arm around Sophie. “What about you? How you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess. How about you?”
“It’s strange this time. I’ve only been to two of these ceremonies before—and both times I was the one standing at the front of the receiving line, accepting everyone’s condolences.”
Grady’s voice trailed off and Sophie hugged him tighter, trying to squeeze away his sadness. “I’m still here,” she whispered.
“I know,” he whispered back. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Sophie nodded as the line advanced, bringing them close enough to finally see the small sapling that she didn’t want to look at but couldn’t look away from either. The teal flowers dotting every branch were unmistakable, but the tree seemed frail and thin and not at all like the real Alden. Sophie wanted to rip it from the ground and hurl it away.
They moved for
ward again and Sophie got her first glimpse of the family. Alvar was his usual immaculate self in an embroidered green jerkin and cape—though his eyes were bloodshot and he seemed especially pale as he held his mom’s hand. Della was stunning as ever, but her green gown hung off her suddenly bony shoulders, and Biana’s gown looked equally loose. And Fitz . . .
Sophie couldn’t look at Fitz.
The Councillors were lined up behind them—all twelve in plain green capes and simple silver-and-emerald circlets. Their faces were blank, and they seemed to stare at nothing as elf after elf greeted the family.
“We are going to fix him, right?” Keefe leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I really need to believe that today.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “I hope we can.”
“Hope isn’t good enough, Sophie. Give me a job at least. Something. Anything.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what to do.”
“Why don’t you let me look through the journal? Maybe I’ll find something else.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she told him, hating the way Keefe’s dad was so obviously listening to them. Plus, they were moving forward again.
Her chest tightened when she realized she was next to see the Vackers, and she could barely breathe as she took the final steps.
Biana and Fitz were mid “thank you for coming” when they realized who they were speaking to. Biana’s voice trailed away, and Fitz’s jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth.
“I’m so sorry,” Sophie whispered, forcing herself to meet Fitz’s gaze.
He didn’t nod. Didn’t say anything. Just stared at her.
Sophie hung her head. She thought about walking away, but she couldn’t. Not without saying the one thing that needed to be said.
I miss him.
“Don’t!” Fitz snapped. “You don’t get to—”
“Whoa, chill, man,” Keefe said, stepping between them. “This is Sophie.”
“Keefe, it’s fine.” Sophie looked at Della, who’d come out of her daze to notice what was happening beside her. “I guess I shouldn’t have come.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Fitz agreed.
Biana just glared at her.
There were dozens of things Sophie wanted to say, but she knew none of them would help. So she gave Della the tightest hug she could, curtsied to the Councillors, and hurried away, with Sandor right behind.
“Hey, wait up,” Keefe called, running after her.
“I don’t want to talk, Keefe.”
“I know—I can definitely feel that. But I thought you should know that I could tell what Fitz is feeling, and he’s not angry at you.”
She gave him a look.
“Okay, he’s a little mad at you. But mostly his dad. And the world. He’s freaking out—which I get, but . . . he has no right to take it out on you.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Sophie rubbed her temples. She knew Keefe meant well—and in some ways what he was saying did help. But not enough.
“I’m sorry, I just want to be alone,” she told him, jogging away.
“I guess I’ll see you on Monday, then,” he called behind her.
She didn’t look back until she’d crested the first hill. Keefe was on his way to the Vackers.
“Are you ready to go home, now?” Sandor asked.
“Not yet.”
The last time she’d been to the Wanderling Woods the Black Swan had left her a message at her grave. And as she wound through the forest, searching for her tree, she couldn’t help hoping that they might do it again. She was starting to think she was heading the wrong way, but then she rounded a bend and two narrow saplings appeared on a hill ahead.
A lone figure stood between them.
“Dex?” Sophie asked when she got closer.
He sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his flushed face. “It’s stupid to get upset, right? I mean, it’s just a tree.”
“I cried when I saw them too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Her tree still didn’t have any fruits or color, and it looked like it hadn’t grown at all. Dex’s was twice as tall and covered with tiny periwinkle flowers. She tried not to read anything into that, but she couldn’t help worrying her malfunctioning DNA might have something to do with it.
She saved the worry for later, scanning her scrawny sapling and looking for any sign of a clue. It was nothing more than a tree.
Dex reached out, plucking a flower from his tree and sniffing it. “Wow, this really is me. It smells just like I do when I don’t shower for a few days.”
Only Dex would have a tree with stinky flowers.
“I hate that they’re still out there,” he whispered.
“Who?”
“The ones who tried to . . .”
“Oh. Them.”
“Sometimes I’ll think I see them or hear them,” he added quietly, glancing over his shoulder.
“We’re safe, Dex.”
“No—you’re safe. You have the Council and the whole world trying to protect you.”
“The world doesn’t want to protect me, Dex. They see me with Sandor and freak out, like being near me will get them taken too. Just like what happened to you.”
She didn’t mean to say the last part, but it slipped out anyway.
“Yeah, well, they’re dumb. The only time I feel safe is around you.” His cheeks flamed and he quickly added, “You have the bodyguard, after all.”
“Yeah,” Sophie mumbled, staring at Sandor. She never realized Dex was wishing for a goblin of his own.
Dex dropped his eyes to his feet. “I guess I know what you mean, though. My parents worry now. A lot. I have to fight them to go places—even to see you. Not that I’ve had to do that much lately.” He kicked the ground, but then his head snapped up. “Oh! This is what you’ve been busy with, huh?”
Sophie nodded.
“You could’ve told me.”
“I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”
“But you told Keefe?”
“Fitz is his best friend, and the Vackers are like his family. He needed to know.”
“So now that the news is out, though—you guys won’t be hanging out so much, right?”
“We might be. We’re still working on something.”
She thought about telling him what, but Dex had always chosen to stay away from the Vackers. He’d never wanted to know them—any of them.
Dex sighed and dropped the flower he’d picked, crushing it with his shoe. “I thought things would be different after we got back home,” he mumbled.
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. I mean, we went through this huge thing. And then I came back and everyone just expected me to go back to normal and act like it never happened. But it happened.” He pointed to his tree. “I was there too. I almost died too. It’s like no one cares except my family.”
“Lots of people care, Dex.” She hesitated a second and then took his hand, waiting for him to look at her. “I care.”
“Really? Then how come ever since school started, it’s like I don’t exist? Before that, actually—ever since that day when Alden . . .”
When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Is that when it happened? To Alden?”
She could barely manage to nod. “It got really bad the next day.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “It wasn’t your fault, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You can’t say that. You don’t even know what happened.” She tried to pull away, but he held tight.
“I know you. And I know you would never let anything bad happen to anyone if you could help it.”
Tears burned her eyes. “Thanks, Dex. I hope you’re right.”
“I am. And see—when you tell me stuff, I can help. I bet if you told me what you and Keefe are working on, I could help with that, too.”
“Maybe I’m right or maybe you’ll tell me?”
“Maybe I don’t know.” She turned back to their trees, their small, weak little trees that were growing stronger by the day. “Come on, we should probably get back to our families.”
Dex kept hold of one of her hands as they walked, and Sophie couldn’t decide how she felt about that. But she didn’t try to pull away, even when they made it back to Alden’s grave. Most of the crowd had left—as had the Councillors—but the Vackers remained. Grady and Edaline seemed to be trying to get them to go home, but Della didn’t want to leave the tree.
Dex went to join his parents and Grady caught Sophie’s eye.
I’ll be waiting at the entrance, she transmitted, hurrying away as fast as she could without actually breaking into a run. She couldn’t face Fitz and Biana again, and they wouldn’t want her to. At least they knew she came to the ceremony. That would have to be enough.
The entrance to the Woods was as empty as it had been that first day Sophie had been there, and she leaned against the pillar of the arched entrance, trying to clear her head. But she caught a slight movement in her peripheral vision.
Up the path, a dark-skinned figure paced in the shade of a nearby tree. A bright red tree with tiny purple flowers—the same tree Grady and Edaline had shown her.
He wiped his eyes as he bent to run his hands over the stone marking the grave.
His mother’s grave.
“Wylie.”
Sophie didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until he turned toward the sound. He squinted at her. Then his eyes widened and he backed a step away, like he knew exactly who she was.
“Sophie?” Dex asked, running to catch up with her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I . . .” Sophie took a step toward Wylie. Just one—just to see how he’d react.
He didn’t move.
“I need a second,” she told Dex. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he held it back. Sandor didn’t follow either.
Wylie’s skin was lighter than his dad’s, and his features were more pinched. But his eyes.
His eyes were Prentice’s eyes—only full of life and a million conflicting emotions. He looked about twenty—which she should’ve figured, but it’d been easier to imagine him closer to her age and growing up never knowing his real dad. If he was twenty, he would’ve known him and loved him for seven or eight years before he died. He would’ve felt every heartbreaking second of his loss.
Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) Page 30