Sophie smiled. If we’re going to be Cognates, do we each have to be a different thing?
I think that’s usually how it works. I know that’s how it was for my dad and Quinlin.
They’re Cognates?
They were. Until they did the memory break on Prentice. Quinlin told my dad afterward that he hadn’t wanted to do it, and it turned into this big fight.
Huh, when your dad brought me to see Quinlin in Atlantis, they acted like friends.
They got over it eventually. But they couldn’t go back to being Cognates. The trust between them was breached, since Quinlin had proven he held things back.
Sophie shifted in her seat.
Wow, it really freaks you out having to share everything, doesn’t it?
It doesn’t scare you?
Not really. You already know about Mr. Snuggles.
Sophie laughed. Yeah, but Mr. Snuggles is the best.
Fitz had confessed about the sparkly stuffed dragon he couldn’t sleep without during one of their previous trust exercises. He’d even brought it over to her house to cheer her up.
Did you bring him here? she asked.
Of course! We’ll see how long it takes before Keefe catches me.
You don’t care if he does?
I thought I would. I even spent forever finding a good hiding place for him. But now . . . I don’t know There are way bigger things to worry about than a little embarrassment, you know? I mean, we’re getting ready to break into Exile.
The words made her shiver.
So what do you say? he asked.
What do you mean?
I mean, why not just blurt out whatever you’re super embarrassed to tell me and get it over with. Wouldn’t it be a relief?
Or it could be the biggest disaster ever—it depended on how he felt.
How I feel about what? Fitz asked, reminding her he could hear what she was thinking.
Come on, he begged as she scrambled to get her thoughts under control. I promise, whatever it is, it’s not going to change anything.
But it would.
It had to.
Come on, he urged. All you have to do is trust me.
Sophie looked away, her brain and heart beating so fast she was sure she would soon implode.
How about you just blurt it out on three? Fitz pressed. You can do it. Here we go.
One . . .
Two . . .
FIFTEEN
YOU GUYS OKAY over there?” Keefe asked, right as Fitz transmitted, three. “Foster’s emotions are seriously wigging.”
“Come on, man, we were so close!” Fitz said.
“Close to what?” Keefe and Dex asked at the same time.
“Nothing!” Sophie scooted her beanbag back, needing room to breathe.
“You’re blocking me,” Fitz said, his tone more hurt than accusatory.
“Am I? Sorry . . .” But it felt good to have her thoughts all to herself again.
Had she actually been considering telling Fitz she liked him?
She shuddered just thinking about what would’ve happened.
“Seriously, you okay there, Foster?” Keefe asked.
“You,” Fitz told Keefe, “have the worst timing ever.”
Keefe smirked. “I try.”
Fitz’s eye roll was epic. “Sorry,” he told Sophie. “I’m not mad at you. I just really thought we were making progress.”
She looked away.
She knew she wouldn’t die if Fitz didn’t like her. But it would be crazy humiliating. And how would they ever be Cognates?
But . . . how would they be Cognates if she was hiding secrets from him?
She sighed.
Everything would be so much easier if she could just get over her silly crush. Would it be so bad to just be friends? It wasn’t like she was ready for a boyfriend. She doubted she was even allowed to date, given the whole matchmaking thing. Not to mention all the problems it would cause with Dex—and maybe Biana.
She needed to let it go . . .
And yet, when she stole a glance at Fitz, her stubborn heart still fluttered. Especially when he flashed his movie-star smile.
“Whoa, now there’s a whole lot of staring into each other’s eyes going on,” Keefe said.
“Let them work,” Della told him. “And you should be working too—really working, not flipping pages and complaining. The Black Swan gave you that book for a reason.”
“Right. Because they’re more evil than we think,” Keefe muttered under his breath.
“So . . . ,” Fitz said through the silence that followed.
“Sorry I blocked you,” Sophie mumbled.
“I’m getting used to it. But do I have permission to go back in?”
Keefe snickered. “Smooth, Dude.”
They both ignored him.
Sophie gave Fitz permission, and within seconds she could hear him in her head. At least her subconscious still trusted him, even if her conscious wasn’t quite as brave.
Sorry again, she thought.
It wasn’t all your fault. He glared at Keefe, and Keefe blew them a kiss. He’s lucky I don’t shove that book somewhere he really won’t appreciate it. Especially since I’m guessing you’re not going to tell me whatever it was you were about to say?
Maybe . . . another time, when we don’t have Keefe paying such insanely close attention.
I guess that makes sense. Okay, we should get started on this exercise.
They agreed to take turns, and Fitz went first.
Favorite animal? he asked.
Instantly Sophie pictured her pet imp, Iggy.
Huh, I thought you would’ve said Silveny, Fitz said.
I know, me too.
Leave it to her to pick the stinky imp over the majestic alicorn. Then again, she never thought of Silveny as an “animal.” Plus, Iggy’s breath might be toxic—and his farts could be weaponized—but he needed her as much as she needed him.
Okay, she said. Favorite subject in school?
Telepathy.
Her face flashed through his mind and Sophie had to force herself not to wonder what that meant.
This one’s harder, he said, moving to the next question quickly. Biggest regret?
Sophie assumed it would be the moment she’d chosen to let Brant get away. But her mind filled with her friend Marella’s face instead. Maybe it was because deep down she knew she’d had to let Brant go to save her friends. Or maybe it was because the last time she’d seen Marella, she’d let Marella’s hurtful words get to her, even though she could tell there was something bigger going on. And now she’d run away and might never have a chance to make things right.
Think we’ll ever go back to Foxfire? she asked Fitz.
I have no idea.
She could see how painful the thought was for him. He’d dreamed of being an elite level prodigy all his life, and now he might not even finish Level Five.
Don’t say you’re sorry, he told her. This was my choice—and it was the right one. It’s just hard not to want it all sometimes, you know?
She did.
She checked her list again. What are you most proud of?
Her face popped into his mind again—but this time it was her terrifyingly transparent face from the day he’d rescued her.
Where were we when you found us? she asked, focusing on the strange tree in the background. She vaguely remembered describing it to Fitz in her desperate transmissions. It looked like four trees in one, each quarter representing a different season.
That’s the Four Seasons Tree, a gift the gnomes planted for us in Lumenaria.
As soon as he said the words, the worries she’d been trying to set aside flooded back.
Wow, I didn’t realize you were blaming yourself for what’s happening with the plague, Fitz thought. Why didn’t you tell me?
Because I’m trying to believe that the physicians will have a cure soon.
I’m sure they will.
She could see the doubts in his mind
.
I wonder why we ended up in there, Sophie thought, trying to focus on less troubling things. Do you think the tree is connected to the Neverseen, somehow?
My dad wondered the same thing, and he went back to investigate. But he didn’t find anything important. And the pathfinder you took from the Neverseen was totally standard. So he’s guessing it was just random.
Maybe . . .
But the tree was so unique, it seemed to beg for attention. If she was ever allowed back in the Lost Cities she wanted to see it again.
I’m forgetting whose turn it is, Fitz said, reminding her that they should be training.
Me too. So I’ll go. If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would it be?
A dark city flashed through Fitz’s mind as he thought the word Ravagog.
Half of the city was above ground, carved into the side of a stark mountain. The other half was underground, in an enormous swampy cavern. A glowing green river separated the two halves, carving a deep canyon between them. A single bridge at the top provided the only connection. The dark metal structure was lined with arched towers glowing with green flames that blazed in hovering fireballs.
It’s like the ultimate Forbidden City, Fitz said. That doesn’t make you curious?
No, I hope I never have to go there.
But she had a horrible feeling that someday they would.
Two questions left, Fitz said. Least favorite school subject?
Her mind was a three-way-tie between her horrible alchemy sessions, her torturous inflicting sessions with Bronte, and her stressful linguistics sessions with Lady Cadence.
Wow, I will never complain about my boring elvin history sessions again, Fitz thought.
Yeah, you haven’t known fun until you’ve spent some time with Councillor Bronte, learning to inflict pain.
And Bronte was one of her only supporters on the Council. No wonder she’d had to go into hiding.
Person you look up to? she asked him.
Alvar’s face popped up in his mind.
Huh, you’d think it’d be my dad, Fitz thought.
Well, Alvar’s your big brother.
Yeah, but we’ve never been that close. He moved into the elite towers when I was still a kid, and never moved back after that. Plus, he’s spent huge chunks of time with the ogres. I’m lucky if I see him more than twice a year. But maybe—
Fitz’s thought was cut short by Calla bursting into the room.
“Sorry for the interruption,” she said, stooping to catch her breath. “I could not reach the Collective, and this cannot wait. Two of our guards just arrived with an emergency report.”
“What guards?” Sophie asked.
“The gnomes that keep watch over one of the Neutral Territories. They saw members of the Neverseen.”
SIXTEEN
TWO GNOMES STOOD waiting by the river, watching the colorful reeds sway in the rushing water. It should’ve been a peaceful moment, but their stance was too rigid. Their gray eyes were clouded with trouble when they turned to watch Sophie and Calla barrel down the winding stairs, with Fitz, Keefe, Dex, Della, and Biana behind them.
“This is Lur,” Calla said, struggling to catch her breath as she pointed to a gnome in pants and a vest woven from leaves. “And his wife, Mitya.”
“We asked for the Collective,” Lur said in gnomish.
Calla used the same swishy language, sounding like rustling leaves. “The Collective is in the Lost Cities, so I brought the Moonlark and her friends to help.”
Lur and Mitya straightened at that, and their eyes stayed fixed on Sophie as Calla introduced the rest of the group.
“She looks younger than I imagined,” Mitya whispered in gnomish. “Too young to bear this burden.”
“She has borne far worse,” Calla reminded them.
Sophie couldn’t tell if Calla knew she could understand them, but she decided to clue them in. “Whatever it is, I can handle it,” she said with a perfect accent.
Lur and Mitya lowered their heads and switched to the Enlightened Language.
“We meant no disrespect, Miss Foster,” Lur said. “We did not realize how far your gifts stretched. And it is an honor to meet you in person.”
“Lur and Mitya have served the Black Swan nearly as long as I have,” Calla explained. “Usually from afar, keeping an ear to the ground, so to speak. They were actually the ones who found the hideout where the Neverseen held you captive.”
“You did?” Dex asked. “I’ve always wondered how they found us.”
“So have I,” Sophie agreed.
“It really was not much,” Mitya said. “The roots told us of the voices hiding deep in the earth. All we did was listen.”
Sophie had no idea what that meant. But she knew enough to say, “Still. Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Dex mumbled. “I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you guys.”
“Those were dark days,” Calla agreed. “It was an All Call to action, everyone scrambling, using any resource they had to search the layers of our planet. We were beginning to lose hope when Lur and Mitya delivered their report.”
“And what is the report you came to give today?” Della asked, reminding everyone why they were there.
Lur and Mitya shared a look, then focused on Sophie, switching back to gnomish.
“We will tell you,” Lur said, “and let you decide if you’ll share with the others.”
“I would not recommend it,” Mitya added, her focus drifting to Keefe.
Sophie’s heart deflated, and she barely remembered to use gnomish when she said, “This is about his mother.”
Lur nodded. “We spotted three of the Neverseen on our patrol today, on the far side of the Lake of Blood.”
“The Lake of Blood,” Sophie repeated, making sure she’d properly translated the words.
“That is what we call it,” Mitya agreed. “The Starkrial Valley was once lush and hearty. But the ogres dammed the river and let everything wither on the southern end. The lake that remains is red and acidic. Many things that touch its surface do not survive.”
“And the elves allowed that?” Sophie asked.
“The elves allow many things.” An edge had crept into Lur’s tone, turning the words to a windstorm.
“The Lake of Blood lies in the Neutral Territories,” Mitya explained. “And many have long suspected the ogres ruined the valley to allow them to hide a stockade in the mountains.”
“Uh, are you guys going to start using words us non-Polyglots can understand?” Keefe interrupted. “Because I think I speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on!”
“I will soon,” Sophie promised. “I still need the rest of the story.” She switched back to gnomish. “What was his mom doing?”
“Nothing,” Lur said. “And that is the problem.”
“She is in serious danger,” Mitya added. “It’s even possible she . . .”
“What?” Sophie asked when neither of them finished.
Lur heaved a sigh. “His mother was badly injured when we saw her.”
“Injured how? From the battle?” The last time Sophie had seen Lady Gisela, she’d hurled herself off a cliff on Mount Everest, relying on a mysterious ogre skill called “phase shifting” to save her.
Mitya shook her head. “Her marks were the work of an ogre. They have a tool that leaves a very recognizable wound.”
“Why would they . . . ,” Sophie started, then answered her own question. “They tortured her?”
“Quite brutally.” Lur shuddered.
Sophie sucked in air, trying to think through the explosion of emotions. “But the Neverseen are partners with the ogres.”
“Yes, but the ogres do not tolerate failure,” Lur explained. “Especially when it comes to the capture of prisoners. In the ogre code of warfare that is the worst possible offense.”
And Lady Gisela allowed Gethen to be taken.
“So, you think the ogres tortured her and brought her
to that stockade you mentioned?”
“It’s possible,” Lur said. “Or . . .”
Mitya took Sophie’s hands. Her fingers were calloused, but still soft as they tightened around her own. “There are other rumors about the Lake of Blood—stories of a pyre, where the ogres burn the bodies of those they kill. It is possible that it’s only a legend. But . . . the Neverseen dragged Lady Gisela into a cave. She was bleeding and wounded and screaming for mercy. After they were gone, all I found was blood.”
“The cave could’ve been a secret entrance to the prison, though, right?” Sophie asked.
“Anything is possible,” Lur agreed. “But that would not explain the smoke we saw drifting from the mountains.”
Sophie swayed and Keefe grabbed her, holding her steady as he whispered, “Please tell me what they’re saying. You said you wouldn’t hide things from me.”
“I won’t,” Sophie told him, hoping she could keep her promise. She pulled slowly away from him, asking Lur and Mitya in gnomish, “Is that all you saw?”
“Yes,” Lur said. “But we will continue investigating. We stopped only because we felt the Collective should know that the hierarchy of the Neverseen has shifted. Lady Gisela holds no authority. She is either a prisoner or a casualty.”
“Can you understand what they’re saying, Mom?” Biana asked.
“I’m only catching bits and pieces.” But the hitch in Della’s voice made it clear she’d understood enough.
“Please, Foster,” Keefe begged. “I’ve heard them say my mom’s name. I’m going crazy here.”
“I need to verify first,” she told him. “There could be a misunderstanding.” It was a frayed strand of hope, but she was going to cling to it with everything she had.
“Can I have permission to search your memories?” she asked Mitya. “I need to see exactly what you saw.”
“Reading our minds is not like reading that of your own kind,” Mitya said. “It will be exhausting, and you already look weary.”
“I can handle it,” Sophie said, reaching for Mitya’s temples.
She rallied her full mental strength, slipped into Mitya’s mind and . . .
. . . tangled in a web of memories.
No—not a web.
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