Even Sophie was having trouble keeping up. But she told them, “Flori thinks she can heal the shadowflux’s echoes the same way she heals the forest. But she has to sing the right song.”
“And every melody must be connected to something,” Flori added quietly. “I think I’ve figured out this song’s roots.”
She turned toward the woods that bordered one edge of Havenfield’s property, and Sophie realized they were heading for the Grove—a small orchard of bulbous trees where all the gnomes on the property lived.
When the Grove’s twisted branches came into view, Flori paused and turned back to Bo. “My people have accepted your presence at Havenfield. But they are not yet ready to accept you near our homes. So I need you to stay here.” Her gaze shifted to Tarina. “And it would be better if you stayed back as well. We have no quarrel with the trolls, but there are stories of scattered attacks that make some uneasy.”
Bo scowled, but didn’t argue. Tarina simply nodded.
Which left only Sophie, Tam, Linh, Marella, Wylie, and Sandor following Flori into the Grove—though Sophie had a feeling Nubiti was trailing them underground—past the rows of swollen, hollow trunks that turned each tree into a tree house of sorts.
Sophie assumed Flori must be leading them to her home, but they wound through the entire gnomish neighborhood, aiming for a shadowy thicket at the end, where the trees were so tightly interwoven that very little sunlight crept in.
Shadows shifted, branches creaked and crackled, and the air turned cold and musky. But Flori’s soft humming soothed Sophie’s nerves. The melody grew louder with every step until they reached a wide, gnarled tree, and Flori dropped to her knees to examine something tangled around the roots.
Sophie squatted beside her, and the rest of the group formed a half circle around them as Flori trailed her fingers across a wispy vine with dark green pointed leaves and tiny clusters of pearl white buds.
“This is vesperlace,” Flori whispered. “It only grows in the darkest parts of the quietest forests—and it only blooms at night, so right now its melody is mostly silent. But I can still feel traces of the same pulse thrumming through the stems that I feel when I listen for your echo. I think it must be the rhythm of darkness. And that is where the song must begin.”
She closed her eyes, humming again—a lower, more resonant sound with words too soft to catch.
Warmth stirred under Sophie’s skin.
It was only the tiniest of prickles—a spark with no kindling to catch hold of. But Flori nodded. “Yes, the song I need lives in everything that thrives in the dark. That’s where I must listen.”
She folded her legs and nestled into the damp earth, settling in for the rest of the day.
“Do you need me to stay with you?” Sophie offered.
Flori waved her away. “You have far more important uses for your time. Go train. I’ll be here, waiting for inspiration.”
• • •
“So . . . the song is a cure for the echoes?” Fitz verified.
“That’s Flori’s theory,” Sophie agreed. “I guess we won’t know for sure until she finds the right melody.”
It felt strange talking to him out loud, hearing his crisp accent through her Imparter.
It felt even stranger staring through the screen into his far-too-pretty eyes.
Sophie had talked to Fitz every night since he’d told her she was the only person he trusted. But all of their conversations had been telepathic—which was a very different experience. Technically it was more intimate, with his voice whispering across her consciousness, each thought vulnerable if she didn’t remember to guard it. But it was easier in some ways too. She didn’t have to worry about flushed cheeks, or quickened breaths, or any other tells that might give away how hard her heart was currently pounding.
But Fitz had been the one to hail her, and she wouldn’t ignore him. Plus, she’d been looking for a distraction anyway.
After she’d left Flori alone in the shadowy thicket, Tarina had helped Sandor set up the scarecrowlike dummy for his lesson with Tam, Linh, Marella, and Wylie. Sophie knew it was only a matter of time before there’d be screaming and fake-but-traumatic splattering.
“How long do you think it’ll take Flori to finish the song?” Fitz asked.
The hope threaded through the words made her wish she didn’t have to tell him, “I have no idea. Flori said she’s trying to find where to begin, so I guess it’s possible it’ll all pour out once she starts. But I have a feeling it’s going to be verse by verse. Maybe even lyric by lyric.”
Fitz ran a hand down his face, muffling a sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Why? Is your echo causing problems?” she asked.
“Kind of. It’s just . . . it’s always there. Every time I think it’s starting to fade, Alvar spouts some sappy ‘look how perfect I am’ garbage, or my mom turns all misty eyed and I feel my pulse start to get away from me—and I know how to keep it under control. But . . . I’m getting sick of deep breaths and having to choke back everything I want to say, you know?”
Sophie nodded. “Well . . . at least today’s your last day having to be around Alvar, right?”
“It is,” he agreed, sounding more tired than relieved. “Starting tomorrow, no one can make me go anywhere near him unless I ask to. That’s actually why I reached out. Now that I’ve held up my end of the bargain, I can start calling in some of the other demands I got my parents to agree to. And . . . I need your help for one of them—if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it,” Sophie promised.
“I don’t know—you might not want to, once you know what it is.”
“No, I’m in no matter what,” Sophie assured him.
He rewarded her with one of his glorious smiles—which wasn’t the reason she’d said it. But it sure was a nice bonus.
Sadly, the smile faded when he told her, “I know we haven’t been able to do any Cognate training, so it probably won’t be all that different from the other times we’ve tried, but . . . I have to try again. So I demanded another chance to look around Alvar’s head—and this time I’m going to hit him with absolutely everything I have. But . . . I can’t do that without you. I know it’s a lot to ask—”
Sophie shook her head. “It isn’t.”
She wasn’t sure if they’d actually be able to learn anything—but she understood why he needed to try. And so did she, in case she’d been right about her theories—in case the Neverseen had targeted them because of their telepathy.
“You’re sure it won’t be too hard with your echoes?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” Sophie said, holding his stare so he’d see she meant it. “What time do you want me to be there?”
• • •
Sophie barely slept that night, even with the sedative. And by sunrise, she was done tossing and turning.
She told herself she was just trying to stay busy when she spent much longer than normal getting ready, even taking time to line her eyes with gold-flecked eyeliner. Just like she claimed the reason she chose the silky purple tunic that flared at the waist was because it was part of Flori’s new fighting wardrobe and not because it also happened to look really good on her. She even slipped some goblin throwing stars into the top of her knee-high boots and stuffed a few others into the zipped pockets lining her pants to take full advantage of her battle-ready clothes.
See?
She was just trying to be prepared.
It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing a certain teal-eyed boy who’d claimed she was the only person he trusted.
Nope.
And she definitely wasn’t thinking about the last time they’d seen each other, when he’d hugged her before leaving the Healing Center.
She was just nervous about searching Alvar’s mind.
And really, she should be.
After all, if they couldn’t find anything, Fitz would be devastated. And if they did find something, it would mean they’d been ove
rlooking the Neverseen’s plans for months and months and have some major catching up to do.
That’s why her knees were shaking as she made her way up to the fourth floor cupola to use the Leapmaster. It had zero to do with crushes.
And when she got there, she found a whole new reason to feel anxious.
“You’re not all coming with me, are you?” she asked Sandor, Bo, Flori, and Tarina, who stood together under the sphere of dangling crystals with their arms crossed.
“That’s how this works,” Sandor told her. “We go where you go.”
“But I’m going to one of the most secure places on the planet—and don’t even try to say it isn’t! Grizel designed the security. If you all tag along with me, you’re basically saying you don’t trust her.”
Sandor shook his head. “Nice try. Grizel knows that when it comes to your safety, I’m not taking even the slightest risk. So you’re bringing all of us with you today.” He held out his hand, expecting her to take it.
“I wouldn’t fight them on this one, kiddo,” Grady said from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to find him and Edaline at the top of the stairs. “Be glad your mom and I aren’t insisting on joining you too. The last time you went off to meet Fitz, it didn’t exactly go well.”
“That’s because we were in the middle of the desert, not in a super-well-guarded gated estate! Plus, I have this.” She pointed to the pin Tinker had made her, which was securing her gold-rimmed cape around her shoulders.
No one looked impressed.
“Fine,” Sophie grumbled, trudging over to Sandor and taking his hand.
Flori reached for Sophie’s other hand, and as their fingers twined together, Sophie realized . . .
This was the first time since the attack that her right hand had some actual strength.
Not as much as it usually had—and she’d still have to be careful about how much she used it.
But . . . things really were getting back to normal.
“You sure your concentration’s up for a leap like this?” Grady asked as Bo and Tarina linked hands with the others. “You’re going to have to hold everyone together.”
Sophie nodded, feeling a fresh burst of confidence. “Yeah. Don’t worry—I’ve got this.”
She called for the Leapmaster to lower the crystal for Everglen, and after one quick breath, she imagined her concentration wrapping around her overprotective group like thick, heavy cloth. When everyone was fully covered—completely in her hold—she smiled at both of her parents. Then she stepped into the Leapmaster’s path and let the light carry them away.
• • •
Sophie told herself she was running because she didn’t want to be late. Not because she was trying to put some distance between herself and her horde of bodyguards—and definitely not because she’d spotted a familiar figure standing next to the glowing bars of Everglen’s massive gate.
Apparently, she was lying to herself a lot that day.
And she probably would’ve been better off walking at a normal pace, because it meant she was sweaty and out of breath by the time she reached Fitz. But that did give her a ready excuse for her red-flushed cheeks when Fitz threw his arms around her, whispering, “Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course,” she said, smoothing her tunic and cape when he let her go—anything to pretend she didn’t notice the way he was looking at her.
“Admiring” might’ve been a better word.
Fitz Vacker was admiring her.
Or maybe she was reading way too much into it, since his next question was, “How’s your arm?”
She held it up to show him, and even though she clearly still needed a little more meat on her new bones, she wasn’t lying when she told him, “Pretty good. How about you? How’s your leg?”
“Kinda clumsy,” he admitted, taking a few steps to show her his subtle limp. “But it’s better than crutches.”
“I’m sure. Hopefully you won’t get tangled in any more chandeliers.”
Fitz groaned. “I never should’ve told you that story.”
“But you did! And it’s officially my favorite!”
His cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink. “Yeah, well I—”
“You should be closing these gates—not standing there flirting!” Bo snapped, and Sophie decided she was officially Team Ro.
“Glare at me all you want,” Bo told her, “but there’s no point surrounding a property with fancy glowing bars if you’re going to leave the gate wide open while you blush at each other.”
“In case you were wondering,” Flori told Fitz, “we all think Bo is the worst.”
“And I’m happy to keep the path secure if you guys need a few more minutes to talk,” Tarina added, emphasizing the last word in a way that made Sophie’s face feel nuclear.
She backed up, putting more space between herself and Fitz. “If you were wondering what it’s like having so many different bodyguards, that about sums it up.”
“I guess,” he mumbled. “Not that it’s much more normal around here.”
He pointed to the shadows of a nearby tree, and Grizel seemed to melt out of the darkness, followed by five other goblin warriors.
“The ogre is right,” Grizel noted, ordering everyone to move deeper into the property so that the gates could clang closed behind them. Her steps were graceful and smooth—not at all like someone recovering from a serious injury, and Sophie hoped that meant Grizel was back to normal.
Both Sandor and Grizel stayed firmly in soldier mode—but for one second when they thought no one was looking, they exchanged a look that made Sophie’s heart seriously melt.
“So,” Fitz said, clearing his throat. “You ready for this?”
“I think so,” Sophie said quietly. “What about you?”
He nodded, offering his arm as he leaned closer and added, “I know it’s bad to say this, but . . . I really think we’re going to find something today.”
Sophie wished she could share that same confidence as she hooked her elbow around his and let him lead her forward, into the heart of Everglen. The path started out familiar, lined with neatly trimmed shrubs and trees in every imaginable color, filling the air with a thick, sweet perfume. But right when the shimmering mansion came into view, they curved the opposite direction, up a series of steep hills that had Sophie’s chest heaving by the time they reached an unruly clearing butted against a wall of mossy rock. Scraggly bracken filled most of the space, framing a small, simple structure: a white stone house with a single door, a single window, and a flat roof with dull metal shingles.
It looked like something humans would build, not elves.
No crystal. No jewels. No style of any kind.
Everything about it screamed temporary—but whether that was because the current resident was expected to return to his cell or expected to move back with his family was hard to say.
“I’ll go first,” Grizel informed them, striding toward the door, “and only Fitz, Sophie, and Sandor will be allowed inside with me. The rest of you can spread out and patrol the clearing.”
No one argued, and within a few seconds their group had mostly dispersed as Sophie and Fitz joined Grizel, with Sandor right behind them.
“This door can only open for three seconds,” Grizel explained as she moved her hand toward a metal panel set into the stone. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Are your parents already inside?” Sophie whispered to Fitz.
He shook his head. “I told them they weren’t allowed to be here. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Biana’s hiding in a corner somewhere.”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for her to appear beside us this whole time,” Sophie admitted, glancing over her shoulder, half expecting Biana to blink into sight and shout, “I’m right here!”
“Any time now,” Grizel nudged.
“Right,” Fitz said, taking a quick, deep breath, setting his jaw, and squaring his shoulders.
Sophie tried to do the s
ame, offering Fitz a weak smile to let him know she was ready.
Sandor gripped his sword.
“Okay,” Grizel said, pressing her hand against the panel, triggering a loud click as the door swung inward.
They hurried into the house, and the door closed behind them with an unsettling click that echoed off the bare stone walls. The inside was just as boring as the outside: a narrow bed covered in stiff white linens. A small empty table. A lone shelf holding a few worn books. And a single chair facing the only window, where Alvar sat staring out at his rather unimpressive view.
He turned toward them as they entered, his scarred face curling with a smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’ve been waiting for you.”
THIRTY-THREE
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SIT?” Alvar asked when Sophie didn’t respond to his greeting. “I hear you’ve been unwell.”
He stood and offered her his chair, and Sophie noticed that he’d put on weight since his Tribunal, already looking a little less frail. His hair was also trimmed and neatly combed, and his embroidered tunic looked like it had been tailored just for him.
Other than the gruesome scars, he looked like the Alvar Sophie first remembered meeting—the charming older brother home to visit his perfect family.
“She wasn’t unwell,” Fitz snapped. “Your little friends tried to kill her—and you already knew that. Stop pretending like you’re so innocent.”
“I had nothing to do with that attack,” Alvar said calmly.
“This time,” Fitz argued. “So sit back down—no one wants your stupid chair.”
“Careful,” Sophie whispered as Fitz rubbed his chest and took a long breath. “Save your strength for the probe.”
“Probe?” Alvar repeated, his smile collapsing with a sigh. “Another memory search?”
“Scared?” Fitz countered. “You should be.”
Alvar sat down slowly, turning to stare out the window. “Fear has nothing to do with it, little brother. But has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to remember?”
“Of course you don’t,” Fitz agreed. “Remembering means going back to that stinky little cell. And it means we’ll have time to stop whatever horrible plan you’re a part of.”
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