Biana frowned. “What apartment?”
“A team of gnomes is building a separate residence for Alvar on our property,” Alden explained. “Your mother and I figured that would be easier than having him in the main house.”
Fitz whipped around. “So then you guys knew this was happening.”
“Fitz,” Della tried.
He shook his head, turning to Sophie and Keefe. “Did you know too? Is that why you’re here?”
“They’re here because I asked them to come,” Alden jumped in. “I didn’t tell them why. But yes, your mother and I found out this morning, when Councillor Terik stopped by to make sure the Council had our permission to move Alvar to our private property.”
“And you gave it?” Biana asked, moving to Fitz’s side, as if an invisible line had just been drawn between them and their parents.
Della sighed. “I know this isn’t what either of you want to hear. But Alvar’s our son—and your brother. We owe it to him to—”
“We don’t owe him anything!” Fitz interrupted. “He betrayed us! And if you think he won’t do it again, you’re—”
“I’d think twice before resorting to insults,” Councillor Emery warned. “This is the Council’s decision.”
Fitz clenched his jaw so tight, a muscle twitched along his chin.
Alden cleared his throat. “I know you’re angry, Fitz. And I won’t tell you not to be. But try not to make this a bigger deal than it is. It’s six months of your life.”
“A lot can happen in six months,” a voice called from the hall’s entrance, with the same crisp accent that Fitz, Biana, and Alden all shared.
Whispers rustled through the crowd as a blond male wearing a pristine white cloak stepped the rest of the way through the doors. His face was all lines and angles, and his ears had the highest points Sophie had ever seen, so she wasn’t completely surprised when Bronte said, “It’s good to see you, Fallon. I wasn’t expecting you to join us today.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be here,” Fallon admitted, glancing behind him like he was tempted to turn and flee.
Sophie craned her neck to get a better view of the notoriously reclusive Vacker—and for the first time, she understood why people often paired the word “handsome” with “devastating.” His white-blond hair grew to a dramatic widow’s peak, adding a severity to his perfectly chiseled features. But it was his eyes that demanded the most attention. Dark as a midnight sky and shining with an intensity that could only come from millennia of wisdom.
“Well . . . we’re glad you could make it,” Emery said as all twelve Councillors gave a slight dip of their heads. The gesture wasn’t a bow, but Sophie suspected it was meant to acknowledge the fact that Fallon wasn’t just a former Councillor. He’d been one of the three founding members, serving for nearly a thousand years before he resigned to marry Fitz and Biana’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.
Councillors weren’t allowed to have husbands or wives or children in case it biased their decisions.
Fallon wrung his hands as he gazed around the room. “Forgive my tardiness. I prefer the solace of home. It’s the only place where my mind doesn’t struggle to separate what is from what used to be. I don’t know how you bear it, Bronte.”
“It helps to stay immersed,” Bronte told him. “Keep myself fully in the present.”
“I suppose.” Fallon’s eyes glazed over as he stared at some distant point. “But the world has grown . . . exhausting.”
Silence followed, until Emery said—with the slightest hint of irritation—“I assume you have a reason for interrupting our proceedings.”
Fallon blinked hard, dropping his hands back to his sides. “I do. Or . . . I did. I think I lost track of it. What did I say again?”
“This guy’s my new favorite,” Ro whispered as she grabbed Keefe’s shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “Get ready to show off those skinny legs at school.”
“They’re not skinny,” Keefe muttered before he called to Fallon, “You said, ‘A lot can happen in six months.’ ”
“Ah. Yes. That does sound familiar. And a lot can happen.” Fallon stared at his fingers, twisting them around each other. “But there was something else I was going to add . . . and I seem to have lost my hold on it.”
Ro snickered through another long stretch of silence, and Sophie tried not to smile at the way Keefe squirmed.
Eventually Emery said, “Well, you’re welcome to visit our offices whenever you remember. But for now, we must get back to the matter at hand.” He turned to Alvar. “We’ll move you to Everglen as soon as—”
“Everglen!” Fallon repeated. “That’s what it was!” He stepped closer, into the shadow of the Council’s thrones. “You don’t think it’s imprudent to send him home?”
“Why would it be?” Emery asked.
“I can think of two reasons,” Fallon told him. “For one, Everglen is an Ancient property. In fact, I believe some of the original structure still stands.”
“One room does, yes,” Alden agreed. “The space I use for my personal office has been there since the beginning. Why does that matter?”
“I can’t say for certain.” Fallon’s eyes shifted to Bronte. “But things from our past are often more than they seem.”
Sophie’s heart paused at that, and her mind ran through a list of the lies she’d already helped uncover.
The Four Seasons Tree. Nightfall. Even the reason the elves sank Atlantis and severed all ties with humans.
All of those had turned out to be very different from what their Mentors taught in elvin history—if the stories had been mentioned at all.
The Lost Cities wasn’t a bad place. But it wasn’t the ideal world everyone wanted it to be either. And it had a lot of buried secrets.
“Is there anything weird about Everglen?” she asked Alden.
“Not that I’m aware of,” he told her. “When I inherited the property, I made extensive renovations. But it’s always been used as a private residence. Do you know something that I don’t, Fallon?”
“Not necessarily,” Fallon said, staring into the distance once again. “But everyone in this room knows that Vackers never do anything arbitrarily. That property was chosen for a reason.”
“Yes. I liked the view,” a gorgeous female with pointed ears jutting from her shiny black hair said as she rose from her seat. Her angled, clear blue eyes were lined with deep purple—the same shade as her long, silky gown. And her bronze skin shimmered with flecks of amethyst glitter. “The lake was so serene at night, the way it reflected the stars. It was the perfect place to let my mind rest after a long day of bending the sun.”
“Who’s that?” Sophie leaned in and whispered to Keefe.
He tilted his head. “Pretty sure that’s Luzia Vacker. She’s a super-famous Flasher.”
“Not the most famous, though,” Luzia clarified, and Sophie flushed, wondering how Luzia could’ve heard them. “That would be my son.”
“Orem,” Keefe whispered, pointing to an elf a few seats over from Luzia, with neatly cropped hair and his mother’s coloring.
Orem was one of the few Vackers that Sophie had heard of. She’d even been to the famous light show that he put on during the Celestial Festival.
“Don’t be so modest, Sister,” Fallon told Luzia, and Sophie’s eyebrows shot up at the label. “We’d all be living underground without your work.”
“Luzia helped create many of the illusions that keep our cities hidden,” Alden explained.
“Wait,” Sophie said, sitting up straighter. “Does that mean she worked with Vespera?”
“Occasionally,” Luzia admitted, smoothing the waistline on her gown. “Many of her ideas were my starting point. But we had very little contact. I always found her unsettling—and I certainly never invited her to my home, in case anyone is now wondering. Sorry, Brother, you’re on the wrong track with this.”
But she also remembered what Alvar had told Biana when he’d finally revealed that he was part of the Neverseen.
You’ll understand, someday, when you see the Vacker legacy for what it is.
“Don’t you think we should check before we move Alvar back to Everglen?” Sophie asked, loud enough to address the Council. “To make sure we haven’t missed something?”
“There’s nothing to miss,” Luzia insisted. “The property was my personal refuge, nothing more.”
“Then why did you let it go?” Fallon asked. “I would never part with Mistmead, and I’m sure all of us feel that way about our homes.”
“Yes, well, I’ve learned to keep free from such silly sentiments,” Luzia told him.
Fallon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You may be able to fool others with your nonchalance. But I’m your brother.”
Luzia laughed. “My brother who hasn’t bothered to visit me in centuries. Yes, you’re right. You do know me so well.”
“I know you better than you think,” Fallon insisted. “We both know you’ve played a role in as many secrets as any Councillor. The only difference is, your secrets never get erased.”
“That’s because they don’t need to be!” Luzia snapped. “And I have nothing more to say on this matter.”
“Neither do we,” Emery added. “Except to assure everyone here that we’ll be performing a thorough inspection of Everglen’s grounds as soon as the apartment is complete.”
“And we’ll be making numerous other enhancements to the property’s security,” Bronte added.
“Let’s also not forget,” Alina said, “that we’re talking about Alvar’s family home. It’s not like he’s never had access to the property before now.”
“Yeah, but my dad changed the security at the gates once we found out Alvar was with the Neverseen,” Biana warned. “What if Alvar hid something there and hasn’t been able to get to it?”
“If that’s the case, why would the Neverseen erase his memory of it?” Alina countered.
“Because memories can come back!” Fitz snapped. “All it takes is the right trigger.”
“Which is why he’ll have guards with him constantly,” Emery reminded him.
Fallon sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s quite tragic to think how often crucial choices come down to our best guess.”
“This is hardly a guess,” Emery argued.
“Yes, I remember telling myself the same thing when I served,” Fallon told him. “But like it or not, that’s the truth of it. We gather what information we can and let it guide our decision. But only time reveals whether it was the right one. And if it wasn’t . . .”
He threw out his hands as if to say, What can you do?
“May I say something?” Alvar asked.
Fallon ignored him. “It’s also the predictability that bothers me. Surely these rebels—these Neverseen, as they’ve chosen to call themselves—assumed we would send him home to his family in his condition. Is it such a stretch to think that it could also be their wish?”
“We considered the possibility,” Emery admitted. “And that’s another reason we’re posting guards. But in the past, those the Neverseen planted into specific positions were also well aware of the roles they had to play.”
“I’m sure they were,” Fallon agreed. “But as has already been pointed out: Memories can return. Or . . . perhaps the rebels felt an unwitting accomplice would be harder for us to detect.”
Alina snorted. “You think the Neverseen are such masters of manipulation that they could guide Alvar through some intricate scheme without him realizing it?”
“It doesn’t have to be intricate in order to be effective,” Fallon corrected. “Generally, the most powerful plans are also the simplest.”
“Seriously—will you please let me say something?” Alvar asked again. “You’re acting like I don’t have any control in this. I do. Even if my memories come back and I am part of some conspiracy, I’m giving you my word that I won’t let myself play any part in it. In fact, I’ll be doing everything in my power to make sure their plans fail. But honestly? I don’t think their goals have anything to do with me. Would they have given me these if they wanted my loyalty?”
He pulled back his sleeves, revealing more curved red scars like the ones on his neck and face—but these looked much longer and deeper, as if the weapon had cut all the way to the bone.
The gashes had been made with a shamkniv, a special kind of ogre blade meant to mark someone who failed at their assignment—which did support the theory that the Neverseen were done with him.
“They left me to die,” Alvar said. “And they’re going to wish I had, because my new goal is to make them pay for everything they’ve done. I know you don’t trust me enough to let me join the resistance—and given what I’ve heard about my past, I can’t blame you for that. But I will find a way to help take them down.”
“But if they’re intending for you to be an unwitting accomplice,” Fallon warned, “you’d be assisting them without any knowledge of what you’re doing. And I know you’re going to claim that’s far too challenging of a feat for the Neverseen to achieve,” he told Alina. “But who among us ever thought they could bring down Lumenaria? Or flood Atlantis? Or burn the glittering city we’re standing in? Underestimating our opponents has not fared us well.”
“Neither has giving the rebels more credit than they deserve,” Alina argued. “When we think of them as these ridiculous supervillains, we end up second-guessing ourselves and hesitating—which has also cost us greatly.”
“But if we . . .” Fallon’s voice trailed off, and he tilted his head, studying her. “I had a counterpoint to your argument, but I keep hearing music when I look at you, and it’s breaking my concentration. Do you know why that is?”
Alina rolled her eyes. “Absolutely no idea.”
Fallon hummed a few bars of a soft melody, and Sophie wondered if he realized he was losing credibility with every note. “That doesn’t sound familiar?”
“Can’t say that it does,” Alina told him.
He hummed a few more beats, rocking back on his heels. “I believe it’s from a wedding. I can see the gown so clearly. It looked like . . . spun sunlight. And I think there was some sort of commotion. Wait! You were the one who interrupted!”
Alina’s face turned tomato red. So did Alden’s. And Della’s.
It was no secret that Alina had once dated Alden and then tried to stop him from marrying Della. But clearly none of them appreciated the reminder.
“Well,” Alina rasped, smoothing her hair, “that was a long time ago, and it worked out in the end.” She pointed to her peridot circlet.
“Serving on the Council is a tremendous honor,” Fallon told her. “But it shouldn’t be your life. I gave the same advice to another, once. Sadly, I don’t believe she listened either.”
He could’ve been referring to anyone, of course, but . . .
Councillor Oralie’s cheeks had turned the same shade of pink as the tourmalines on her throne. Her azure eyes also looked glassy with unshed tears—which broke Sophie’s heart. She’d long suspected that Oralie had resisted her feelings for Kenric in order to remain on the Council. And now Kenric was gone.
“Okay,” Emery said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “We’ve gotten way off track.”
“We have,” a new voice agreed as yet another Vacker stood—a female with vivid red hair and small points to her ears. “And no one has asked the most important question. How do you think people are going to react when they hear that a notorious criminal is living back home with his family instead of being locked away? And don’t tell me they won’t find out. This kind of gossip never stays quiet.”
“Interesting word choice, Norene,” Alina said with a chilly smile. “Tell me, is it public unease you’re worried about? Or public outcry against y
our family?”
Norene raised her chin, her indigo eyes flashing. “I won’t deny that I’d hoped today’s proceedings would put an end to at least some of the rumors currently tarnishing our hard-earned reputation. But as an Emissary—with centuries more experience than you, I might add—my only concern is ensuring the safety of our world. People are frightened. They need to see their Council taking action. And this—”
“Is our way of reminding everyone that our job is to ensure justice—not vengeance,” Bronte finished for her. “We do not act out of fear or anger, nor do we pursue revenge. And we do not hand out a life sentence without ensuring that it is absolutely necessary!”
“But if he escapes—” Norene argued.
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Emery jumped in. “Not only will he have the guards we’ve already mentioned, and additional security at the property, but we’ve also arranged for a rather unique means of monitoring his every move.” He craned his neck, focusing on something toward the back of the hall as he commanded, “Please come forward!”
A hush fell over the room as another goblin marched toward the Council—a female warrior who Sophie recognized immediately. And she knew the strawberry blond boy trailing behind even better.
“Dex?” she asked, watching her best friend step onto another section of the floor, which then rose and connected to Alvar’s platform. “What’s going on?”
“Whatever it is, make it quick,” Keefe added. “Some of us are running out of time.”
Ro snickered.
“This will be quick,” Emery assured him. “Mr. Dizznee is here to deliver a gadget he’s designed per our specifications.”
Unease swirled in Sophie’s stomach as Dex pulled a small metal box from his cape pocket and held it out. He was one of the Lost Cities’ most talented and innovative Technopaths and had created all kinds of brilliant gadgets—like her Sucker Punch bracelet. But one time he’d gotten a little too reckless with a circlet he invented, and the Council had forced her to wear it. She’d never forget the brutal headaches that the ability restrictor had caused, or the hopelessness she’d felt having her talents stripped away.
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