“You want to blame someone, track down our attackers,” Sophie snapped. “They’re the ones who hurt her.”
“Oh, we intend to,” Bronte told her. “But Grady still allowed her to be in harm’s way.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Please, she was in harm’s way in our pastures! The attackers have clearly been watching and planning. Sooner or later they would have found an opportunity.”
“But they didn’t need one, because Grady handed it to them on a silver platter.”
Edaline reached for Grady’s hand as several of the Councillors murmured among themselves.
“Even if we do concede to your point—which has not been decided,” Councillor Emery said after a second, “I hardly feel such an offense merits exile. Especially considering the alicorn may very well recover.”
“ ‘May very well’ and ‘will’ are not the same. And the timing must also be considered.” Bronte had the gall to smile as he folded his hands and said, “Grady gave his word that he would have the alicorn ready to present to the Sanctuary during the Celestial Festival amid great fanfare and spectacle. In light of that promise, we announced a tremendous celebration. It was partially to repair the rift caused by Alden’s loss—which is obviously no longer needed. But we also aimed to prove to the people of our world that they should have hope and trust and faith in their Council. What message will it send now when we not only cannot deliver—but present them with a wounded alicorn who could very easily never recover?”
No one seemed to have an answer, and each second of silence felt heavier as it passed.
“Silveny might still be able to fly,” Sophie mumbled, knowing even as she said it that the chances were slim. The Celestial Festival was only four days away.
“Might, Miss Foster? You expect us to hang our hopes on might?”
“He’s right,” Councillor Emery said—though he didn’t look happy about it. “We’ll need to cover with an alternate spectacle, and find a way to make it clear to the people that the change is not a sign of our incompetence.”
“And the best way to do that is to be able to inform them that the person responsible is being punished to the fullest extent of our laws. It’ll send a message to the attackers, too, hopefully deterring any further attempt.”
Kenric stepped forward when no one else did. “I will not concede to a Tribunal, Bronte. No matter how you try to twist it, there’s nothing about what happened that would merit us locking Grady away in Exile like a murderer.” He turned to the other Councillors. “That’s not justice. That makes us just as cruel and reckless as the rebels we’re trying to prevent. And if that’s the kind of action we would consider to try and prove our worthiness, then we deserve every bit of criticism we’re getting.”
A stunned silence followed, until Oralie moved beside him. “I agree.”
“As do I,” Councillor Emery said before closing his eyes. “And it appears all the others agree as well.”
Bronte’s frown looked more like a snarl. “So we’re just going to let him go unpunished? That’s the precedent we’re going to set?”
Councillor Terik sighed. “Perhaps we can come up with an alternative punishment.”
That sparked an enormous debate, where the Councillors suggested everything from a public scolding, to relocating Grady to a permanent position at the Sanctuary, and everything in between.
“Can I say something?” Sophie asked when she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She took a deep breath as everyone fell silent, letting the idea settle in so she could accept it.
“We’re waiting, Miss Foster,” Bronte snapped.
She glanced at Grady, reminding herself why she was doing this as she said, “I can make sure that Silveny still makes a dramatic appearance during the festival.”
“How?” Bronte demanded. “Light leaping doesn’t count, and last I checked, flight was a key element to her teleporting.”
She’d thought so too. But she’d realized why the sensation felt familiar as she teleported them away from their attackers. She’d done it before—when she made that impossible jump during base quest.
She wasn’t blinking. She was making tiny, unplanned “slips.”
Which meant she didn’t have to fly.
She just had to fall.
“I can give you guys a far bigger ‘spectacle’ than you ever imagined,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “And if I do, everything will be exactly the way we promised it would be, so no punishment would be needed.”
“And what is this alleged spectacle?” Bronte demanded.
“It’s . . . a surprise,” Sophie stalled, not ready to reveal her secret. She’d have to now—and she would. But she would take any extra time she could get.
Bronte snorted. “You expect us to just blindly trust you to surprise us with some phenomenal thing—”
“Yes. I do. I think what I’ve done today more than proves that I can do things everyone thinks are impossible.”
Several of the Councillors murmured in agreement. Bronte rolled his eyes.
Sophie turned to Councillor Emery. “But I’d need your word that there will be no more discussion of punishment—for any of us. Grady. Edaline. Keefe. Sandor. Me. We’re all safe or no deal.”
“And why do we need your spectacle?” Bronte snapped. “We’re perfectly capable of making one on our own.”
“Maybe. But mine will deliver on the promises you made and save you from looking bad—which I thought was the whole point.”
“It is,” Kenric agreed. “I say, deal.”
“Deal,” Councillor Terik agreed, along with several others.
Bronte’s scowl was so deep it looked like his face had sunken in. But he knew he was trapped. “Fine, I’ll agree to this deal—for now. But if anything goes wrong . . .”
He didn’t finish the threat, but it wouldn’t have mattered.
Sophie was afraid of many, many things.
But she wasn’t afraid of herself anymore.
She could do this.
She just had to trust. And be willing to take the first leap.
SIXTY-THREE
ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? Sophie transmitted as she stroked Silveny’s shimmering nose.
The earth’s shadow had just started its slow path across the moon, making a red-orange eclipse in the starry sky. The Celestial Festival would be well under way, which meant she and Silveny were almost to their cue.
They were the finale.
Ready, Silveny transmitted, but without her usual enthusiasm.
Sophie had spent the last three days using every non-school-related second preparing Silveny for the night’s big move. All the gentle medical care had helped Silveny stop panicking around other elves and animals, and Sophie had spent hours explaining every detail about what would happen and why and what they needed to do. Silveny was as ready as she’d ever be.
But now that the moment had come, Sophie wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Friend, Silveny said, nuzzling Sophie’s neck and filling her mind with a lonely ache. Come.
“I can’t,” Sophie whispered. You know I can’t.
Stay, Silveny tried.
You can’t do that either.
Silveny hung her head, and Sophie felt her eyes get watery.
She’d only spent five weeks with the strong-willed alicorn—most of which had been filled with more headaches and glittery poop than she would’ve liked. But Sophie couldn’t imagine looking out in the pastures and not seeing her fluttering around. Or sleeping without Silveny’s warm calm filling her mind.
Silveny didn’t want to go either. Friend. Stay. Home.
“It’s not safe here, anymore,” Sophie told her. “Look what happened to your beautiful wing.”
She’d removed the bandage a few minutes before—the Council didn’t want the public to see it—and there was a dark scar among the feathers. Sophie stared at the star-shaped bruise on her own hand as she traced the thin red line on Silveny�
��s skin.
Another thing they had in common.
Another reason this had to be done.
The Sanctuary was hidden inside the Himalayas. The dwarves had secretly hollowed out the enormous mountains centuries before, and the gnomes and elves had converted the space to a lush paradise with every possible climate, comfort, and care. Access was restricted and regulated, and the Council had amped up security even more for Silveny’s arrival to make sure that no one would be able to hurt her there. And Silveny would finally be able to meet the other alicorn, and hopefully with time they would breed. Ensure the existence of their species.
I’ll come visit, Sophie promised, which perked Silveny up enough to fill Sophie’s head with Visit! Visit! Visit! mixed with the occasional Keefe!
Yes, I’m sure Keefe will come too.
She reached up and ran her fingers through Silveny’s icy mane, meeting her deep brown eyes. But I’ll miss you.
Miss, Silveny repeated, transmitting the ancient ache she’d sent Sophie before. Friend.
Tears slipped down Sophie’s cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around Silveny’s neck. What matters is keeping you safe, she told her, repeating the words until Silveny finally accepted them.
Sophie tried to accept them too as Silveny lowered her shimmering head and let Sophie climb on her back.
“You don’t have to do this, Sophie,” Grady said, startling them both.
Sophie turned around and found Grady and Edaline watching her. It was strange to see them in their long silver capes embroidered with the Council’s seal. But they were both officially part of the nobility again, assigned to assist with the search for the kidnappers and the Black Swan.
Assuming Sophie pulled this off without a hitch . . .
“I thought you guys were at the festival already,” she said as she adjusted her heavy cape. The Celestial Festival was being held at the base of Mount Everest, so everyone had to wear thick clothes and clunky boots to stay warm.
“We were,” Edaline said, stepping close enough to inspect Silveny’s wing. “But I wanted to check Silveny’s wound.” She frowned at the dark red scar.
“And I wanted to tell you one more time that you don’t have to do this,” Grady added.
They’d both insisted on knowing what Sophie was planning, and she’d finally caved and told them everything: how Mr. Forkle modeled her DNA on alicorns, how she’d figured out how to teleport—in theory, at least—and how she was planning to test that theory for her spectacle. They’d been trying to talk her out of it ever since. Once she did this, the Council would know she could teleport, and they didn’t want Sophie to feel forced to expose her secrets. Especially since they kept saying they were sure the Council would only give Grady a minor punishment.
Sophie gave them the same answer she’d given them every time. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Edaline gave Sophie a hug.
Grady sighed. “Letting you go never gets any easier, does it? Though it might help if you weren’t always doing such dangerous things.”
Sophie smiled. “It’s going to be okay. And hey, we’ve fixed everything else. We just need to solve this last thing.”
Grady nodded. “I trust you.”
“Me too,” Edaline agreed.
“I suppose that means I should as well,” Sandor grumbled as he stepped from the shadows. “But I still prefer when you stay by my side, Miss Foster.”
Sophie smiled. “I know. And I promise I will try to be better about that.” The kidnappers were still out there—and there were even more of them than she’d realized—so she was going to have to keep her burly bodyguard around for a while. “But I have to do this first.”
Sandor reluctantly nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”
Edaline wiped her eyes and took Grady’s hand as he raised his pathfinder.
“I guess we’ll see you soon,” Edaline whispered.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Sophie watched the three of them glitter away and tightened her grip on Silveny’s neck.
Silveny raised her glittering wings.
No. We’re not going to fly, remember?
She was glad Silveny could move without any pain. But she had no idea if the wing could really support any weight, and she wasn’t going to let Silveny hinder her recovery by trying to fly too soon.
Silveny tensed as they trotted toward the edge of the cliffs, and Sophie was nervous too. But if the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that sometimes there was no guarantee. Sometimes she just had to trust herself and believe that if she put her mind to it, she was strong enough to pull through.
It always came down to trust.
No flying. Sophie repeated the command until Silveny tucked her wings. Trust?
Trust.
Sophie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and rallying her concentration before she transmitted, Run!
Silveny whinnied and galloped forward, bounding across the last stretch of grass before she leaped off the edge of the cliff.
Calm! Sophie transmitted as they fell down down down, and she filled Silveny’s mind with warmth as she repeated, Don’t you dare try to fly.
Miraculously, Silveny obeyed, and Sophie forced her eyes open and focused on the dark rocks and shallow waves they were hurtling toward. They hadn’t been able to practice this part—it was too dangerous to try more than once—but she knew she could do it. She embraced the fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins, gathered it all together until it was a giant ball of force, and shoved it out of her mind.
A thunderous crack split the space in front of them, and they slipped into the void.
Sophie concentrated on a mental image of the Sanctuary, and as she did, her instincts told her how to weave through the gray mist. More thunder crashed as the space parted and they raced through the split, onto the icy ground at the base of the towering mountain, amid a shower of sparkle and hundreds of twisting beams of colored light.
A flash of blue light painted across the sky, illuminating the thousands of wide-eyed spectators gaping at them in stunned silence as Silveny slowed to a stop.
Good girl, Sophie told her as Silveny dipped her head in the bow they’d rehearsed.
The crowd went wild.
Silveny whinnied, her silvery body quivering with excitement. Sophie tried to calm her, but Silveny was too caught up in the frenzy, and before Sophie could stop her, Silveny raised her shimmering wings and . . .
Launched them into the sky.
“You can fly!” Sophie screamed, even though they only made it a few feet off the ground before Silveny set them back down.
Fly! the giddy alicorn transmitted as Sophie strangled her with a hug. Safe!
Yes, Sophie told her, blinking back tears. You’re safe.
SEVERAL OF THE COUNCILLORS—ALONG with a fleet of goblins—rushed Silveny to the Sanctuary as soon as Sophie dismounted. She barely managed to transmit, I’ll see you soon, as Silveny trotted away. But before the alicorn disappeared through the gates, Silveny filled Sophie’s mind with warmth and told her, Friend! Visit.
Sophie wiped her eyes and promised, I will.
“You weren’t kidding about the spectacle,” Councillor Terik said, startling her as he approached from behind. “An elf who teleports? Definitely one for the history books.”
“Great,” Sophie mumbled.
He laughed. “You’ll get used to your fame eventually, Sophie.”
Somehow she doubted that. But at least she wasn’t hearing whispers about “the girl who was taken” from the crowd.
Yet . . .
“In the meantime,” Councillor Terik said, dragging her out of her worries. “I thought you would want to know that the Councillors are more than satisfied with what you’ve done here tonight. We can already feel the unrest easing.”
She watched the families of elves laugh and smile as the lights danced in the sky. “I hope it lasts,” she whispered.
�
�Me too.”
The worry woven into his tone made Sophie wonder if he was thinking the same thing she was.
The rebels would strike again.
But Sophie planned to be ready this time.
Councillor Terik cleared his throat. “Now that Alden’s back, I know you probably won’t need my help. But you still have your Imparter. Hail me anytime.”
“Thanks.”
She hoped she wouldn’t have to take him up on that, but with the way her life seemed to go, it was good to know she had at least one Councillor on her side.
“There you are, Miss Foster,” Bronte said, stepping from the shadows. He eyed Councillor Terik as he said, “Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes, Sophie and I were having a pleasant conversation. So I’m sure this is your cue to ruin it.”
Bronte scowled and folded his arms. “Actually, I do need to have a word with Miss Foster. Alone.”
Sophie sighed. Of course he did.
Councillor Terik gave her an apologetic smile as he left her with her pointy-eared nemesis. But Sophie held Bronte’s icy glare, surprised at how easy it was to face him.
“You really can’t feel that?” he asked after a minute.
“Feel what?”
“Apparently your mind is impenetrable to inflicting now.”
“You tried to inflict on me?”
“Oh, relax. It didn’t work, did it?”
“No,” Sophie grumbled, wishing she could fling something at his head. “Was that all you needed?”
He released an epic-length sigh. “No. I also wondered . . . is it true that you can inflict positive emotions?”
“I think so. Why?”
His eyes dropped to his hands. “Well, then. Perhaps we’ll have something to teach each other.”
His voice was barely a whisper, and Sophie wondered if she’d heard him right.
Did Bronte just admit that he had something to learn from her?
Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) Page 38