“Where’s a good place to talk?” she asked Marella.
Marella glanced over her shoulder, tugging on one of her braids before she stepped forward and closed the door. “It’s probably better to stay out here right now. My mom’s having a rough day.”
“Sorry,” Biana told her, and Sophie wished she could think of something useful to add as she followed Marella over to a huge stone fire pit on the far side of the house, surrounded by golden beanbag chairs.
“These are made from flareadon fur,” Marella explained as she sank into one and motioned for Sophie and Biana to do the same. “That way they’re fire resistant. My dad built this place after I manifested. Figured it might be good for me to have somewhere I could practice without it looking too suspicious and without burning the house down.”
“Smart,” Biana said, glancing at Sophie with a look that seemed to say, How do you want to do this?
Sophie cleared her throat—but before she could get a word out, Marella told her, “Whatever it is, don’t try to sugarcoat it, okay? I’m guessing by the shadows under your eyes that it’s something big. So let’s just get it over with.”
Sophie nodded. “Okay. It’s . . . about Fintan.”
She went on to repeat everything Fintan had told her about why Marella needed to train with him, making sure she didn’t add any of her own thoughts or worries into the conversation. This needed to be Marella’s decision, since she would be the one taking the risk either way, whether she chose to train with the enemy or chose to ignore his warnings about her ability.
Marella leaned forward when Sophie finished, holding her hands over the fire pit and sparking tiny tendrils of blue flame over each of her fingers. “Would the Council even allow me to train?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie told her. “I’m not sure if we’d tell them. Technically, I’ve seen where the prison is now, so I could teleport there anytime, with or without anyone’s permission.”
“Would the guards let you in, though?” Biana wondered.
“I guess that’s a good point,” Sophie admitted. “Well . . . I’m sure we could come up with some other excuse for why we’re visiting. That way you could still keep your ability secret if you want.”
“I don’t want any of this,” Marella muttered.
The flames hovering over her fingers turned white hot and Biana dragged her beanbag closer, placing a hand on Marella’s arm. “This probably isn’t much help, but . . . we’re here for you, okay? I know we haven’t always done a good job of showing that. But we are. You need us to break you into that prison for training? We’ll make it happen.”
“Exactly,” Sophie agreed. “I mean, we broke into Exile. How hard could it be?”
The flames over Marella’s hands cooled back to blue, and her lips pulled into a smile. “You guys should see the looks on your bodyguards’ faces right now. It’s like a contest to see who can give the evilest glare—though your guard doesn’t really look surprised, Biana.”
“I’m sure he isn’t,” Biana said, smiling over her shoulder at poor Woltzer.
“The only reason I’m not dragging you all back to Havenfield,” Sandor told them, “is because I’m assuming this is hyperbole to show your loyalty.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Biana told him, tossing her hair.
“Obviously there’s a lot to figure out,” Sophie jumped in, before Sandor could shift into overprotective mode. “And there’s no hurry for you to decide,” she told Marella. “We just wanted to tell you what Fintan said as soon as we could so you wouldn’t think we were hiding it from you. But you can think about it for as long as—”
“I have to do it,” Marella interrupted, letting the flames over her hands swell bigger and bigger, until it looked like she was about to lose control. Then she curled her fingers, snuffing the fire out with a thin curl of smoke. “I have to train with Fintan. I know there will be risks, but . . . he’s right about this power. It isn’t just that flames call to me. It’s like they’re in me. This constant inferno in my head, begging me to let it take control.”
Sophie tried to hide her shudder, but Marella still noticed. And instead of looking hurt or angry—like she had every right to—she looked . . . scared.
“I’m fine,” she said, twisting one of her braids around her finger. “It’s just . . . I can see how I might not be fine after a few years of this, if that makes sense. That’s why I have to train. I’d rather not turn into some creepy pyromaniac, you know?”
Sophie and Biana both tried to smile at the joke.
“So . . . yeah,” Marella said, twisting her braid tighter. “How soon do you think I’ll be able to start training?”
“I’ll talk to Mr. Forkle as soon as I can get him away from the Council,” Sophie promised. “But I think we might need to get through the Celestial Festival first.”
She caught Marella up about Fintan’s other warnings.
“That’s fine,” Marella told her. “It’s only six days.”
And it hit Sophie then.
They were only six days from their next standoff with the Neverseen.
Six.
Days.
The monster liked that. It stretched its legs and sharpened its claws, eager to dig up every flashback from all the other times she’d battled her enemies—and lost.
But we have six days to prepare! she tried to remind herself. It won’t be like the other times.
Six days wasn’t much, though.
The Neverseen had been preparing for way, way longer.
“Hey,” Marella said, snapping her fingers in front of Sophie’s face to drag her out of her panic. “You still with us?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said, sucking in a slow breath and shaking her head to clear it. “I was just . . . thinking about how much there is to do.”
“We have lots of help this time,” Biana reminded her.
“I know. But with the Neverseen . . . we’re always missing something. There’s always some trick we don’t see until it’s too late and—”
“About that,” Marella cut in. “I know you’re probably going to tell me I should sit this one out because the festival’s so public. But . . . you might need me. I won’t use my ability unless I have to, but it’s probably smart to have the option.”
Sophie wanted to argue.
But she stopped herself.
Because the truth was . . .
They were going to need all the help they could get.
• • •
Six days became five days.
Then four.
And by the time they were down to three, it felt like the monster was stalking every thought Sophie had. Even the sedatives couldn’t fully put the beast to rest, and shadows lurked among the glitter and sparkles in her dreams—along with a haunting voice, wholly her own this time, whispering over and over, What are we missing? What are we missing? What are we missing?
She hated letting the adults handle all the preparations, but she didn’t have the kind of power and resources that they did. So she spent her days training with her friends and bodyguards, pushing her still-healing body as hard as she could without reinjuring anything. And every night she made Mr. Forkle walk her through how the plan was coming together.
The good news was, the security for the festival seemed solid. Every guard they could spare was already being secretly transported to the festival grounds at the base of the Prism Peaks and hidden behind different illusions that Luzia, Orem, Tam, Wylie, and any other Flashers and Shades the Council trusted were carefully preparing. That way the amount of soldiers would look the same as previous years—but they’d have a secret army ready and waiting. Dwarves would also be lurking underground, and several gnomes had volunteered to take up positions in any nearby trees. King Dimitar also sent a dozen soldiers to serve under Bo’s command, and Bo had taken a temporary leave from guarding Sophie to hide at the festival site, in case Cadfael and the other deserters showed up like Fintan had implied.
But the true geniu
s to the strategy was the other illusions that Luzia had designed to camouflage all the Neverseen’s biggest targets. The “Councillors” that the audience would be staring at would actually be a projection of the real Council, who would be hidden behind one of the larger groups of soldiers and “broadcasting” everything they said. Orem would be doing the same for his presentation. And anyone who saw Sophie or her friends, family, and bodyguards milling about the audience would actually be seeing projected doppelgängers set up specifically near the hidden guards like bait in a trap. In reality, they’d be patrolling the crowd in disguise, searching for signs of the Neverseen.
It was a whole new level of artful duplicity, and everyone was incredibly proud of how smoothly it was coming together.
But it didn’t silence Sophie’s haunting whisper.
What are we missing? What are we missing? What are we missing?
And with two days to go, she figured out what it was.
“What if we’re wrong?” she asked, trying not to fidget as she stood in front of Fitz, Keefe, Biana, Dex, Linh, and Marella, who’d all gathered under Calla’s Panakes tree after she’d hailed them for an emergency meeting. Wylie and Tam were with Orem and Luzia, strengthening the illusions at the Prism Peaks. And the adults were still using Havenfield’s main room for their continued planning.
“What if we’re wrong about what?” Fitz asked.
Sophie took a steadying breath to keep the monster calm. “I mean, what if Fintan was lying? It’s not like the other stuff he told us was all that earth-shattering. The festival warning was the only thing concrete—and what if that was his plan?”
“I thought we already decided we couldn’t ignore the warning, just in case,” Dex reminded her. “Wasn’t that why we had to listen to everyone argue all night?”
“Right,” Sophie agreed. “But once we decided to take it seriously, it’s like we forgot that if Fintan lied about this, it was probably to keep us distracted so we’d be completely caught off guard by anything else. So the question is, where else are we vulnerable?”
“Everglen,” Fitz said immediately. “Alvar will still be there. And my dad sent half the guards to the festival.”
“That still leaves the other half,” Biana reminded him. “And the gate. And the Warden on his ankle. And the fact that he has no memories. I think we’re covered.”
Sophie nodded slowly. “You still have guards posted at the override, right?”
“Yes,” Fitz said, running a hand down his face. “But I don’t like that Alvar will be alone there without us. Maybe I should stay home and keep an eye on him.”
“Or you could take this,” Dex said, pulling the Warden’s bracelet off his wrist and handing it to Fitz. “That way you can help out at the festival and keep an eye on Alvar’s movements. You know the property better than I do, so that probably makes more sense. You’ll know right away if he’s going anywhere or doing anything weird. And if he starts to, just hit that button and drop him.”
“Or I could drop him now and leave him unconscious for the whole thing,” Fitz suggested.
“You could,” Mr. Forkle said behind them. “But then you’d be as bad as our enemies.”
Fitz looked like he could live with that.
“I understand the inclination, Mr. Vacker,” Mr. Forkle said. “I truly do. But punishing someone because you expect them to commit a crime will always be unjust. The second your brother does anything inappropriate—if he does anything inappropriate—you have my full permission to push that button. But until then, let’s not lose sight of who we are.”
Fitz muttered something Sophie couldn’t understand as he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. But he dropped the subject.
“I’m assuming this little gathering involves a lot of stressing and worrying?” Mr. Forkle noted, turning his attention to Sophie.
“We’re just trying to think through all the plan Bs, in case we’re wrong about plan A,” she explained. “We still have two days to prepare—might as well be thorough.”
“I suppose. But try not to let yourselves lose focus. The Neverseen like grandstanding and sending the messages through dramatic public displays. The festival makes sense.”
It did.
But knowing that didn’t silence that haunting question.
What are we missing? What are we missing? What are we missing?
And the day of the festival, Sophie finally remembered the other event happening during the eclipse.
“Do you think this could have anything to do with your hatching?” she asked Tarina. “Maybe the Neverseen are planning a raid on your hive.”
Tarina snorted. “If they are, they’ve foolishly misjudged our species. That hive will be one of the most dangerous places in the world tomorrow morning, full of untamed, bloodthirsty newborns.”
Sophie shivered. “Okay, but . . . that’s the morning. What about tonight?”
“Some newborns will hatch early. And all it takes is one—trust me. In fact, you should almost hope your enemies have miscalculated so greatly. They would all be shredded to pieces in minutes.”
Sophie shivered harder, deciding to take Tarina at her word.
“The only hatching you should be worried about is the alicorn babies,” Tarina added, and Sophie’s heart stumbled a beat.
“I thought the caretakers at the hive said they won’t be hatching tomorrow,” Sophie reminded her. “Silveny’s had me ask you every day.”
“Yes,” Tarina agreed. “The membranes haven’t thinned like they have at the other hive. But this is new for us, and we will all be very busy tonight. So if you’re determined to be prepared, you might want to consider moving the alicorn parents to the hive, since they have a way of reaching out to you telepathically. Then they could call for help if they need it.”
That . . . was a really good idea.
The Collective agreed. And the Council even offered to light leap the alicorns there so that there was no risk that they’d be seen. And it definitely wasn’t hard to convince Silveny and Greyfell to teleport over to their babies.
But before they left, Silveny called Sophie over to her pasture. Sophie hadn’t told either of the alicorns about what might happen that night at the festival, but Silveny must’ve plucked the worries from Sophie’s mind, because she nuzzled her nose into Sophie’s neck and asked, SOPHIE SAFE?
I’ll try, Sophie promised.
NO TRY! Silveny told her. SAFE! SAFE! SAFE!
She flooded Sophie with such an overwhelming burst of confidence that she tingled from head to toe. And Sophie tried to cling to the feeling as she watched the alicorns crack the sunset-streaked sky and teleport away. But it faded when she made her way back inside and found Fitz, Keefe, Dex, Tam, Biana, Marella, Wylie, and Linh busy arming themselves with throwing stars and daggers and the gadgets that Dex and Tinker had made. And the last wisps vanished when Flori shuffled in with a basket of Panakes blossoms and ordered everyone to fill their pockets with as many flowers as they could.
Reality sank in then, along with the stomach-twisting realization that if things went wrong that night, there would be pain.
And blood.
And maybe worse.
“Everyone, gather around,” Magnate Leto called, clapping his hands as he strode into the room. He’d chosen to switch identities to prevent the Neverseen from realizing he was still alive. And it was his job to bring them to the festival, along with their various guards.
Everyone else was already at the Prism Peaks, in position.
Already in danger.
“We must be ready to leave in the next few minutes,” Magnate Leto said as he handed them each a heavy hooded cloak to hide their faces. They’d be wearing different colors, different styles, and should blend right in with the rest of the crowd, since it was cold where they were heading. “I know this certainly isn’t your first time taking a risk like this, but I want you to know how much I admire the bravery of each and every one of you. I wish I could guarantee that everything wi
ll go perfectly. But that’s rarely how it works. So stick to the plan. But also stick together. And trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is. We’ve prepared as best as we can, but the real work still comes down to each of us in the moment. Be smart. Be careful. Rely on each other. And with any luck, we’ll be celebrating a victory tonight!”
Everyone let out a cheer—almost a battle cry—as they all locked hands.
But Sophie could feel the trembles in their grips.
And she felt just as shaky as they stepped into the path and let the light carry them away to face their enemies once again.
FORTY-SEVEN
A HUGE RED MOON FILLED THE dark sky as Sophie and her friends arrived at the Celestial Festival. A blood moon, as humans sometimes called it, and it seemed fitting, given the circumstances—not that anyone in the crowd appeared to be sharing Sophie’s sense of dread.
The mood felt just as joyous as it had the last time Sophie attended the festival—maybe even more so, since everything was set against a much more vibrant backdrop. The Prism Peaks must’ve gotten their name from the unusual striations running along the jagged mountains—wide, arcing bands of red, blue, green, and white that were vivid enough to be distinct even in the moonlight. Beyond that, the star-flecked sky stretched like a glittering canvas, ready for Orem’s show to begin. And while people waited, they set up midnight picnics and tossed tiny sparkling firecrackers, showering the scene with glints of colorful light.
No one was paying any attention to Sophie’s group—they were too distracted by all the sights and conversations—but she still pulled her hood up over her head to hide her face. Her friends all did the same, and they blended in perfectly with the rest of the bundled-up crowd around them—which would’ve been reassuring, except . . . the Neverseen could also count on the same camouflage.
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