“Thanks,” he mumbled, turning away and wiping his eyes. “And remember, if you need anything, all you have to do is press the center stone and it will call for me.”
Sophie nodded.
She had no intention of ever using the button. But it was nice to have Dex back on her side.
He left her then, and she went back to the mind-numbing task of studying runes. She’d only made it through a few more pages when Edaline peeked her head through the doorway, letting her know she had another visitor waiting for her in the living room.
She expected to find Fitz, Keefe, or Biana with news of the Black Swan. Instead, she found Magnate Leto standing under the crystal chandelier. He looked strange in his orange cape and tunic. Less intimidating than the silver clothes he used to wear as Beacon. Or maybe she just trusted him now.
“I can’t stay long, I’m afraid,” he told her as she offered him a seat on the couch. “I have a number of things still to arrange. But I wanted to stop by when I saw you were absent again today—and not to pressure you. I understand you might need further time to adjust. However, your sessions are waiting for you whenever you’re ready to return. All of them.”
“Even my ability sessions?” Sophie asked.
“Of course.”
“But . . . doesn’t this”—she pointed to her circlet—“make them kind of impossible?”
“Ah, I was under the impression that nothing was impossible.” He tapped his lips, making it clear her secret was safe. “But even if I’m mistaken in that regard,” he added, “all of your Mentors still see value in your sessions. I know Tiergan is very much looking forward to ensuring your thorough understanding of the rules of telepathy.”
“What about Bronte and Lady Cadence?” Sophie had to ask.
“Lady Cadence assures me that there are tricks for successful mimicking that go beyond simply being a Polyglot. And Councillor Bronte actually came to me, insisting your session not be cancelled. I almost didn’t allow it, given his role in your current predicament. But I told him I would leave the decision up to you. So he asked me to give you a message. Repeated it four times to ensure I remembered it.”
Magnate Leto’s eye roll told her how he felt about that.
“He said, ‘It takes a special person to see darkness inside of someone and not condemn them.’ Any idea what he means?”
“Not really,” Sophie admitted.
Unless Bronte was referring to their rather dramatic last session.
But she had condemned him. She’d been ready to have Keefe go lie detector on him to find out if he was the leak in the Council. Good thing they hadn’t done that. Now Bronte was one of the only Councillors still on her side—even if she did still think he was hiding something.
“Was that his whole message?” she asked.
“No, there was one other part. He said, ‘Inflicting comes from the heart, not the head.’”
“Wait. Does that mean he thinks I can still—”
Magnate Leto smiled. “So should I assume you’ll leave your schedule as is?”
“I guess,” Sophie mumbled, hardly believing that she was voluntarily keeping her session with Bronte.
But the thought of taking the ability back sent prickles of hope flaring in the back of her mind, clearing some of the clouds choking her concentration. Especially when Magnate Leto squeezed her shoulder and told her, “Take the time you need to adjust to your new situation. But know that Foxfire is waiting for you. We need our star prodigy back.”
“I’m not a star,” she told him as he pulled a slender pathfinder from his sleeve.
“That’s not what I’ve seen. I have it on good authority that nothing can stop you from being who we need you to be.”
Then he was gone, leaving her with renewed energy as she returned to her room and focused on Jolie’s journal.
Her thoughts were still slower, and her headache couldn’t dull completely. But this time she felt confidence—and the confidence made her realize she was on the wrong track completely.
Jolie had wanted the Black Swan to have this journal, otherwise “swan song” wouldn’t have been part of the key. So she had to have left a clue to tell them how to read it. And the clue had to be hidden in the only runes written in the Black Swan’s cipher.
“Reflections,” Sophie whispered, tracing her fingers over the careful lines and squiggles.
What was Jolie trying to tell her? To reflect on something inside the journal?
But how could she do that if she couldn’t even read it? What would she use to . . .
Sophie dropped the journal, not sure if she wanted to kick herself or jump up and down.
She decided to see if she was right before she made her decision.
She’d been reading the title like it meant “musings” or “observations.” But what if Jolie meant it much more literally?
“Please please please,” Sophie whispered, holding the human mirror in Jolie’s blue compact up to the first page.
If Sophie was right, the letters should inverse in the reflection and . . .
She had one second to celebrate as the squiggly lines morphed into words she could finally understand.
Then she read the first sentence.
If you found this journal, it’s too late to stop him.
SIXTY-TWO
WHO?” SOPHIE SHOUTED AS SHE squinted at the page.
Jolie didn’t seem ready to tell her.
In fact, the first sentence must have been added later, because after that it switched to an account of why Jolie had joined the Black Swan in the first place.
Translating the runes was tedious, and forced Sophie to work at a glacial pace. Jolie must’ve been copying down a reflection of an original entry, and her writing was sloppy and nearly impossible to read. Still, when Sophie took it one letter at a time, she was able to piece together the words to Jolie’s story.
Prentice had recruited her for the Black Swan toward the end of her first year in the elite. He’d been the Beacon of the Golden Tower, and overheard her tell a friend that the old ways didn’t apply to the present day. She’d meant it in regards to matchmaking, but Prentice had spent the next weeks revealing why she should apply it to the entire Council.
At first she’d resisted such traitorous statements, but then he’d shown her a scroll written in an ogre’s hand. The message made it clear that some sort of information exchange had been occurring between the ogres and a small band of elves. But when Prentice had shown it to the Council, the matter had been ruled a “misunderstanding” and dismissed without investigation. Same with several other disturbing bits of intelligence the Black Swan had uncovered. Which was why they’d formed their organization. Someone needed to start acting, before it was too late.
Still, Jolie refused his offer, arguing that her life was complicated enough already. But they wouldn’t let her walk away. Strangers would bump into her in the halls, whispering things like “The fall is never seen before the rising” and “The bold and brave are never seen.” Later she’d find bits of paper shoved into her pockets with times and dates for her to meet.
She never went, and eventually confronted Prentice, demanding the Black Swan leave her alone. But the Black Swan had nothing to do with those messages.
The rebels were trying to recruit her too.
That was when she decided to join them as a double agent.
Prentice warned her it was too dangerous, but Jolie refused to be persuaded. She swore fealty to the Black Swan and trained in their basic methods. But the next time she found a note shoved into her pocket, she followed the instructions to find the rebels.
The next three pages were a detailed account of all the different notes and clues and hoops the rebels made Jolie jump through, trying to decide if they could trust her. She’d been to more than a dozen of their “meetings”—which were nothing
more than her finding another note they’d left her—before she even learned they called themselves the Neverseen. And for months after, they continued to live up to the name.
She’d find random messages, or hear whispers—but never meet an actual member. She was starting to think the whole thing was just shadows and games when—
“Hey, Sophie?” Edaline asked, nearly giving Sophie a heart attack.
She gave a small smile as she set a bowl of pink soup and a plate of black-and-white speckled cubes on the floor next to Sophie. “Looks like you found a way to translate that.”
Sophie nodded. “I’m writing a version you can read when I’m finished—not that I’m learning much.”
Fascinating as Jolie’s history was, she hadn’t given any actual answers. And it wasn’t like Sophie could skim ahead. The confusing runes made it way too easy to miss something crucial.
“What is this stuff?” Sophie asked, pushing the slimy cubes around the plate.
“They’re not the best tasting, I’ll admit,” Edaline warned her. “I tried some as I was slicing them and they’re rather sour. It’s a fruit called clarifava. The gnomes gave it to me, because it’s supposed to help the body resist the influence of technology. Honestly, I have no idea how that works. But I know that gnomes believe anything beyond nature is corrupting. And when they heard about your circlet they insisted you eat a serving every night. Claimed it would clear your head and sharpen your body’s defenses. So I thought I’d leave it up to you if you wanted to try it.”
“It can’t hurt, right?” Sophie decided—though she regretted the decision when the first bite zinged the glands near her ears.
“Rather sour” was a bit of an understatement.
Still, she forced herself to finish the plate, and by the time she’d choked it all down, she did feel a little better. It could’ve been the placebo effect, but her headache seemed like it had dulled around the edges.
“I actually think it helped,” she said, shoving aside her soup so she could get back to work. “Can you thank the gnomes for me the next time you see them?”
Edaline pushed her soup back to her. “I will. But you still have to eat some actual dinner, Sophie. The journal can wait ten more minutes.”
Sophie scowled, but didn’t argue, devouring the still-too-hot soup so fast, she was pretty sure she burned off all her taste buds.
“Okay?” she asked, showing Edaline the mostly empty bowl.
“I suppose.” She snapped her fingers, making the bowl disappear, then again to bring a plate of custard bursts. “I made them with caramelized sugar this time, and I have to say, it might be my best batch ever. I’ll have to remember it the next time I bring them to Brant.”
“Can I get in on those?” Grady asked, helping himself to two as he joined them. “What? I need one for each hand!”
Sophie smiled—and totally copied him.
And Edaline was right, they were the best custard bursts she’d made. Rich and creamy, like the world’s best crème brûlée had been stuffed inside the thin sugary shell. She could’ve eaten the whole plate—or, she could have until Grady killed the mood.
“A package just arrived for Sandor from the Black Swan,” he said quietly. “They gave him a heavy white cloak and some sort of silver gadget to help him breathe at the high altitude.”
Sophie fiddled with the flowers on her carpet, not looking at Grady as she asked, “Did they tell him any more about their plan?”
“Actually they were surprisingly specific. I still had to read between the rhyming lines, but it sounds like they want everyone to meet at Kenric’s Wanderling at sunrise, where they’ll find whatever they need to leap to that awful cave you told them about.”
“And then?”
“Then they’ll find a hidden door that the Neverseen should think is a secret path to the Sanctuary. But it actually dead-ends in a small cavern, where they’ll wait while the Neverseen set up whatever ambush they’re planning. Then the Black Swan’s dwarves will ambush them. And you don’t have to worry about Silveny. Somehow they’ve convinced Jurek to secure both her and Greyfell for the night with unbreakable chains. And Keefe, Fitz, and Biana will never leave the cavern. All the fighting will be done by the Black Swan.”
“Is that it?” Sophie asked, wondering if she was missing something. “That sounds so . . . simple.”
“Simple plans are always the best.”
“Maybe. But . . . so . . . Fitz, Biana, and Keefe are just going to sit in a cave and hide while the Black Swan attacks? Why do they even need to be there?”
“Because the Black Swan needs the Neverseen to see another easy, unsuspecting target and have their guard down. It sounds like they’re basically re-creating the same scenario that happened in the cave you and Keefe visited. Only this time you guys know they’re coming. And that is the only difference that matters.”
“I guess,” she agreed, not sure why it felt so disappointing.
She should be glad that her friends were going to be safe. But somehow it felt wrong to catch the bad guys so easily. For all their notes and theatrics, she’d expected more from the Black Swan than dwarves popping out of the snow.
“They’re going to be okay,” Grady promised, misunderstanding her frown. “Sandor will make sure of it. And if their Pyrokinetic is with them . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. But the look he shared with Sandor made it clear an arrangement had been made between them. A deadly one.
“Are you okay with this?” Edaline asked, reaching for Sophie’s hand. “I know it can be hard to sit on the sidelines.”
“It’s weird,” Sophie admitted. “But . . . I have stuff to keep me busy.”
She tensed when she remembered Grady was in the room.
He patted her on the head. “Edaline does tell me things, Sophie. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Sophie pointed to the tiny runes she was translating. “I’m hopefully getting close. But so far it’s just a long, rambling story.”
Edaline sighed. “That sounds like Jolie.”
Grady closed his eyes, his voice thick as he whispered, “I want to know everything you find.”
“You will, I promise.”
He nodded, and the silence that followed felt heavy. None of them seemed strong enough to break it, so Edaline finally led Grady out of the room, letting Sophie get back to translating.
She worried she was going cross-eyed as she worked through Jolie’s description of the first time she talked to the Neverseen. It was a woman—though Jolie could only hear her voice through a crack in the wall. The woman told her they could fix her bad match and have Brant’s status as Talentless erased. The changes would take time, but she promised they would happen if Jolie swore fealty to their cause.
Jolie agreed.
She told herself it was part of her plan to infiltrate their group. But as she followed the Neverseen’s directions to a forest in a Forbidden territory, her doubts took hold. Her only proof that the Neverseen were the villains came from the Black Swan. How did she know she hadn’t been misled? She’d almost convinced herself that the Neverseen were fighting for the same cause. But then she reached the designated clearing.
Figures hidden under heavy black cloaks surrounded her in the dark, and one—a male voice that felt somehow familiar—told her she must prove her commitment before she could join. He raised an unlit torch, and with the slightest flick of his wrist, the end ignited, erupting into a blaze of white flame that smelled like burning sugar.
Sophie’s nose tingled, remembering the white fires that had torn through San Diego. The flames had smelled exactly the same. Which meant Jolie hadn’t just met the leader of the Neverseen.
She’d met her killer.
The torchbearer told her that joining their ranks meant accepting their enemies. And enemies had to be destroyed. Then he ha
nded her the torch and pointed to the woods, which bordered some sort of human nuclear facility, poisoning the earth with its toxic chemicals. “Nothing so vile should be allowed to continue,” he told her, ordering her to spark the first flame.
She tried to hand the torch back, but he gave her a speech about protecting their planet and taking back what was rightfully theirs. Told her the war was coming whether she wanted it or not and begged her to join the side that would win. When she still tried to push past him, he grabbed her wrist, searing her with his fiery hands. She screamed from the pain, but he didn’t let go, ordering one of the cloaked figures to wash Jolie’s recent memories clean.
Before they could wipe her mind, Jolie used her home crystal to leap away.
She hid at Havenfield for the next few days, afraid the Neverseen were waiting for her.
But there was another reason to hide. One that was far more terrifying.
She’d figured out why his voice had sounded familiar. He . . .
The next several lines were scratched through so thoroughly, Sophie couldn’t pick out even a single letter. And when the legible runes picked back up, the tone of Jolie’s narrative had changed.
It wasn’t a story anymore.
It was a plea.
You have to remember how angry he is.
How lost he feels.
He just wants the life that’s been stolen away from him.
“But who?” Sophie asked, wishing she could reach through the journal and shake Jolie.
Why was she protecting him?
She kept going on and on about the burden that the ban on pyrokinesis had placed on him. Branding him Talentless when he had an ability that should have qualified. Forbidding him from ever satisfying his insatiable craving for flame. Apparently he’d fought as long as he could, but the struggle had been too great. And when he’d turned to Fintan for advice, Fintan gave him secret pyrokinesis lessons instead, opening his mind to new longings, new possibilities.
The power fueled him and haunted him, changing him into someone Jolie didn’t recognize. But she still wouldn’t say who he was—and the pages in the journal were quickly running out.
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