“You two wait here,” Tarina told Sophie and Fitz, pointing to a fallen log in a shadowy clearing. “I want to do a quick patrol of the forest. I don’t like how thick it is. Limits my visibility.”
Sophie wasn’t a fan either. There were too many scraggly, creaking branches. Too many places to hide. Too many twisted shapes playing tricks on her eyes.
She had to force herself to stay still as she sat next to Fitz on the mossy log. But her skin kept prickling and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder every few minutes. And the longer they sat there, the more her senses seemed to heighten, until every tiny rustle or crackle morphed into proof that they weren’t alone.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” Fitz whispered.
“Me too.” And Sophie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or extra worried now that she knew Fitz was picking up on the same unsettling vibe. “I keep telling myself I’m just being paranoid because this is our first time since the attack being somewhere that doesn’t have a billion goblins marching around. But . . . it feels like someone’s watching us, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Fitz whispered back.
“Tarina would’ve found them by now, though, wouldn’t she?” Sophie asked, trying to stay rational.
“You’d think,” Fitz agreed.
But Tarina had been gone a pretty long time.
And Sophie had no idea how strong trollish senses were—not that it necessarily mattered. Grizel and Sandor hadn’t detected the Neverseen that day in the desert.
Or Tarina could be the presence that she and Fitz were both feeling.
Or it could be Nubiti. Sophie wasn’t sure how closely her dwarven bodyguard was tailing her, but . . . maybe she surfaced from time to time to check on certain things.
She’d almost convinced herself it was all her imagination running wild—after all, how would anyone know where to find her? She was wearing Tinker’s null. And she’d gotten rid of the pendant with the tracker. And they were at some nameless ruin they’d never been to before.
But then a twig snapped nearby, loud enough to make her heart skip several beats.
“Think that was an animal?” Fitz whispered.
“No idea.” But if it was, it was big—so that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
She glanced at Tam and Wylie, who stood closer to the forest’s edge, oblivious to everything except the swirling beams of light and shadow shooting out of their hands.
And that’s when she realized—Wylie was with them.
She unzipped a couple of the pockets on her pants and removed two goblin throwing stars, handing one to Fitz and gripping the other with her left hand, reminding herself that Tinker’s bracelet would boost her throw if it came to that.
Did you see something? Fitz transmitted.
No, but I want to be ready. And it felt good holding the weapon, knowing that this time she wouldn’t hesitate to use it—and that her aim was really, really good. I’m worried the Neverseen might be coming after Wylie.
Fitz’s eyes widened. You think?
I honestly don’t know. But it makes enough sense that I don’t want to risk it.
So what do we do?
She chewed her lip as she considered their options, glancing again at Tam and Wylie. I think we should split up. You keep watch from over there—she pointed to a patch of ferns about a hundred feet away that were thick enough to hide him—and I’ll stay here. That way we cover them from both sides, and Ruy can’t trap us in the same force field.
I guess that makes sense, Fitz admitted. But I don’t like it.
Sophie didn’t either.
It’s only a hundred feet, she reminded both of them. And here—take these. She removed the two goblin throwing stars she’d hidden in her boots and handed them to Fitz. I still have a few more, don’t worry.
Fitz nodded grimly, tucking the extras into his cape before he turned to head where she’d pointed. But after a step he spun back and threw his arms around her, hugging her much tighter than he usually did. Stay safe, okay?
You too, she told him, watching him sneak away and wondering how she was supposed to defend herself now that her knees had turned into jelly.
Get it together, she mentally chided, shaking her left shoulder to loosen it and making sure Tinker’s bangle rested against her left wrist as she scanned the shadows.
There was one patch dead ahead that felt darker than the others. And she took a silent step closer, wondering if investigating was a smart move or something she’d really regret.
Another step.
Another.
Only a few left.
And then . . . glaring light flared behind her.
Wylie and Tam both let out startled gasps and Sophie spun around, feeling her mouth drop open when she saw how the light and shadows shooting between them had formed a sort of expanding portal, revealing a bridge of weathered white wood stretching over an endless chasm.
But that couldn’t be, could it?
Where was the tower?
And then she realized: It must be the illusion Luzia designed.
Now anyone trying to find the alicorns would see a long bridge that looked very uninviting instead of the tower hiding them, and—
A branch creaked again—much, much too close—and Sophie whipped around, flinging her throwing star toward the sound.
SHHHHHHICK!
Someone yelped, and more branches crunched. Sophie charged forward, hurdling a fallen log as she leaped to find . . .
Tarina.
With her back pressed tightly to the ground, her eyes wide as she stared up at Sophie.
“Guess it’s a good thing I know how to dodge,” she said, sounding genuinely shaken as she pulled herself to her feet and pointed to the slice in her mossy garment—right across her chest.
Sophie leaned closer, not breathing again until she confirmed that there was no blood. “I’m sorry! I . . . I guess I need to wait to see my target before I throw.”
Tarina brushed the dirt off her shoulders. “That definitely helps. But sometimes it’s not possible, so it’s important to try to keep track of where your friends are. Though I suppose I should’ve remembered that you’re armed and been clearer that it was me approaching.”
“So it was you this whole time?” Fitz asked as he rushed over to join them.
“What was?” Tarina countered. “And why weren’t you two sitting where I told you?”
“Because we kept hearing creepy sounds!” Fitz told her.
Sophie reached for him, needing something to lean on again. Between the adrenaline and the reality of what could’ve happened if Tarina didn’t have such fast reflexes . . .
“It felt like someone was watching us,” she whispered to Tarina. “That was you, right?”
Tarina frowned. “I haven’t been close—but I’d know if someone had been here. I . . .”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes focused on a tree several feet away.
She stalked closer, examining a broken branch, before looking down and sucking in a breath.
It took Sophie a second to spot what Tarina was seeing through the shadows.
Footprints.
Elvin footprints.
FORTY-TWO
IT COULD’VE BEEN LUZIA,” FITZ said for what had to be the tenth time, repeating the conclusion that Tarina had come to.
And it did make sense. Luzia might’ve secretly stuck around to make sure Tam and Wylie pulled off her illusions without any problems. There was also no way to tell exactly how fresh the footprints were, so they could’ve been made earlier, when Luzia was figuring out where to place all of her mirrors.
Sophie had hailed Luzia to verify either theory, but Luzia didn’t answer—which didn’t mean anything, but . . . Sophie didn’t like it. And the monster in her mind was wide awake now. Stalking her thoughts. Trying to stir up trouble. But she fought back the haunting voices with lots of deep breaths. And by leaning again on Fitz.
She was very aware of Wylie and Tam
watching them, but Fitz didn’t seem to care one bit. And that was good, because his shoulder was quickly becoming her favorite place in the whole world.
They stood as a group on the other side of the illusion, watching the trolls make their final preparations to the tower.
“What if it’s not safe for the babies?” Sophie whispered.
“I can have my empress post guards here,” Tarina offered.
It wasn’t a bad idea. But Sophie couldn’t help thinking about Luzia’s vague warnings about the trollish empress and decided, “I want Sandor to sweep the forest as well. And Flori. And Bo. And Nubiti, if she hasn’t already. And I want it to happen before we bring the babies here.”
“Sounds like we have lots of teleporting to do,” Tarina noted with surprisingly little whining.
And the next few hours were an exhausting blur.
By the time Tam and Wylie had leaped home—and Sophie, Fitz, and Tarina had brought Sandor, Flori, and Bo to patrol the tower—Edaline was hailing Sophie on her Imparter, warning that the babies needed to be implanted soon.
So they had to rush back to the beach to figure out how to safely transport the tiny, much paler alicorns. Which meant bringing Vika and Stina to help, and Timkin to boost Fitz’s levitation. Grady and Edaline offered to come along too, but someone needed to help Silveny and Greyfell and bring them somewhere they could rest and recover.
They made Sophie promise to keep them updated—and to return to Havenfield as soon as everything was finished—and then it was back to the tower again, where the trolls took one look at the babies and insisted they be implanted right then.
Even watching it with her own eyes, Sophie couldn’t begin to describe the implanting. All she knew was that there were lots of squishy tubes and an abundance of slime. And the last step apparently required them to stop the babies’ hearts for some terrifying but necessary reason, and they all got to spend an endless moment holding their breath and waiting to see if the pulses would return.
Three seconds ticked by.
Five.
Ten.
And then the tower was filled with the soft flutter of two steady alicorn heartbeats.
“WE DID IT!” Fitz shouted, grabbing Sophie and spinning her around.
And for that one moment Sophie didn’t care about the monster in her mind or her alliance with the trolls or what might be hiding in the shadows or how much trouble she was going to be in with Sandor for running off.
She didn’t even care how closely Stina was watching as she held on tight to Fitz and let him keep spinning and spinning her.
Because she could finally stretch out her consciousness and transmit with every bit of remaining mental energy, BABY OKAY! BABY OKAY!
FORTY-THREE
OKAY, THAT MIGHT BE THE sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sophie murmured as she watched Silveny and Greyfell sleep in her favorite pasture at Havenfield—the one that caught just the right breeze and always ended up blanketed in petals from Calla’s Panakes tree. Greyfell had his legs tucked underneath him and one wing draped protectively over Silveny, who lay on her side with her head resting against Greyfell’s chest.
“I know,” Fitz said quietly. “I never knew horses could snuggle.”
He moved a little closer and Sophie had a feeling he was going to put his arm around her again—and she was all for that. But then his gaze drifted to Grady and his arm stayed noticeably by his side.
Grady had been watching them very closely since they’d gotten back from the new alicorn-baby hive—though “glaring” might’ve been a better word for it. And Edaline had been giving Sophie a lot of raised eyebrows and sappy smiles.
Parents.
“Do you think the alicorns will be safe here?” Sophie asked them, hoping a distraction would tone down the humiliation. Plus, it was a valid question. She’d had to move Silveny to the Sanctuary after the last time she’d lived at Havenfield—and even that hadn’t been secure enough to keep the Neverseen from coming after her.
“They’re free to go anytime they want,” Edaline reminded her. “But I have a feeling they’ll stay until the babies leave the hive—and they’re probably going to want you to take them there as soon as Silveny’s feeling up to it.”
“But there’s nothing for them to see,” Sophie noted. “The tower’s too narrow for them to go inside—and even if they could, all they’d see is their babies floating in a bunch of green goo.”
“That may be,” Edaline told her, “but, speaking as a mother, I promise, you won’t be able to keep Silveny away from that tower.”
“Yeah, probably not,” Sophie begrudgingly agreed.
She’d already checked Silveny’s dreams, to make sure the worn-out mama wasn’t haunted by nightmares from the stressful labor—and all she’d found was an endless replay of the moment Silveny had gotten to nuzzle her new son and daughter.
“Did Sandor say how much longer he’ll be at the hive?” Grady asked.
“I wish,” Sophie admitted. “But I’m guessing it’ll be at least a few more hours.”
Sandor and Tarina were both waiting for new goblin and troll guards to arrive, so Sandor had asked Bo and Flori to get Sophie back to Havenfield safely—which meant she’d already endured two lectures on why she should’ve taken a few seconds to find them before she ran off. But Sophie was certain that Sandor would have a lot more to say on the matter once he got home.
Sophie was tired just thinking about it.
“Well,” Grady said, “I’m sure you two are both ready to get some rest, so . . .” His eyes narrowed at Fitz, all but kicking him off the property.
Edaline shook her head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s barely past sunset. And I’m sure they have lots to talk about.”
And then, as if she wasn’t being horrifyingly obvious enough, she gave Sophie another eyebrow raise and hooked her arm around Grady’s, dragging him toward the house.
“Is it possible to die from embarrassment?” Sophie wondered as Grady grumbled a bunch of loud protests about how he’d rather stay out in the pastures.
Fitz laughed. “If you think they’re bad, wait until my parents find out about us.”
And there it was—the word that changed everything.
Us.
That was all it took for them to suddenly be . . . a thing.
And Sophie couldn’t decide if she wanted to spin cartwheels or bury her face in her hands to hide her flushing cheeks.
“In case that sounded wrong,” Fitz added quickly, “they’re going to be super excited. Though Biana’s probably going to follow me around saying I told you so a lot, so prepare yourself for that.”
“She is?” Sophie asked. “You talked to her about . . . about this?”
For some reason, she couldn’t throw out the “us” word as easily as Fitz had. But he didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, she’s been teasing me about it for a while—nagging me to stop wimping out and confess already. She tried to convince me to get you crush cuffs for a finals gift when you finished Level Three, but I didn’t want to pressure you like that.” He stepped closer, reaching for her hands and sounding so adorably shy as he told her, “But . . . if you want some, I’d go get them in a heartbeat.”
“Wow,” Sophie breathed. “That’s . . .”
She couldn’t find the words to finish that sentence.
To have him saying these things—after years of wishing and hoping and dreaming and . . .
It was . . . unreal.
And part of her wanted to grab him and kiss him silly.
But another part wanted to cry—and for some reason that wimpy part of her was winning.
“Hey,” Fitz said, gently tilting up her chin so he could study her. “You okay?”
Her nod might’ve been the world’s most unconvincing nod. And she waited for Fitz to freak out. She deserved that. He was being so sweet and honest and perfect, and she was . . .
What was she?
Scared, maybe?
And nervous.
And excited.
And not totally believing that any of this was real, and waiting for it to all turn out to be some huge misunderstanding.
And—
“Is this too much right now?” Fitz whispered. “I know it’s been a crazy day, so . . . we can wait.”
Sophie shook her head.
Waiting would only make it worse. Then there’d be even more pressure to say all the right things just like Fitz was.
And she wanted to.
Just like she wanted to go back to that moment in Everglen’s reception hall, before Silveny interrupted them, when it all felt so exciting and incredible and not quite so real.
Real wasn’t bad.
But it was . . . complicated.
It was parents and friends getting involved.
And the whole school knowing.
And . . . and crush cuffs. Which meant being “hopefuls.” Which meant . . .
“Okay,” Fitz said, blowing out a breath, “I think I know what’s going on.”
He led Sophie over to the Panakes tree, waiting for her to sit in the soft grass before he sat down across from her—mostly giving her space.
But their knees touched.
And Sophie’s entire world narrowed to that tiny point of contact, everything fluttering so wildly that she couldn’t meet his eyes. So she leaned back against the braided bark of Calla’s tree and watched the wispy branches dance around them on a soft night breeze that smelled like flowers and the ocean and was laced with the faintest whisper of a sweet melody.
As far as romantic settings went, it was pretty much perfect—especially since this was where they’d already had a couple of other “moments.”
And Sophie realized then . . .
Those really had been moments.
She hadn’t been misreading the situation.
She’d just been too scared to believe it.
And now . . . she was terrified.
“So,” Fitz said, watching her fidget with some of the fallen blossoms. “Do you want to say it? Or do you want me to guess? Or do you want me to drop it and we’ll just sit here and stare at the stars?” He glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the sky, which had faded to a peaceful swirl of purple and blue, brushed with flecks of twinkling glitter. “Anything’s fine, Sophie. Seriously.” He reached for her hand, gently tangling her gloved fingers with his. “I told you my new goal is to get you to trust me. And I mean it. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me, too—but in a different way. I’m only worried you’re going to laugh or—”
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