Sophie checked again, and the sound was definitely coming from that direction. But Prentice’s voice was slipping away.
She took off running.
Dex caught up with her first, “You okay?”
“I’ve been better,” she said as the path forked, and she turned down the narrower hall. No one questioned her, even as the hall shrank with each curve of the spiral.
The third turn led them to another fork.
“An adjunct within an adjunct?” Granite asked. “How is that even possible?”
“One path goes up to higher ground.” Mr. Forkle turned to Sophie. “Which way?”
Sophie listened for Prentice, but his ghostly voice had gone silent. She transmitted her name again, and when he didn’t respond, she tried Black Swan! Follow the pretty bird across the sky! Wylie!
The last word brought him back.
“Left,” Sophie said, taking the path that went up.
“Why would they want him closer to the surface?” Mr. Forkle asked Granite as they followed. “That seems illogical.”
“Perhaps there was no more room for additions. Or—”
A groaning alarm drowned out the rest of Granite’s sentence.
Sirens rumbled and croaked, reminding Sophie of a didgeridoo.
“Sounds like they know we’re here!” Mr. Forkle shouted.
Their run turned to a sprint, leaving them breathless as the hallway widened again. Sophie could feel Prentice ahead, each step turning his presence warmer.
Warmer.
WARMER.
“There,” she said, dashing up a flight of stairs.
They dead-ended in an unmarked silver door and Dex set to work on the enormous padlock.
“This is different than the one you gave me to practice on,” he grumbled.
“But you can open it?” Granite asked.
“I hope so.”
“How are you feeling?” Fitz asked Sophie as she shivered against the frozen wall. “Have you blocked out the voices?”
She rubbed her throbbing head. “Some are a little too strong right now.”
“Then let me give your mind a boost.” Fitz reached for her temples, and as soon as his fingers touched her skin, a burst of energy rushed into her consciousness. It felt like her brain had guzzled about fifty of Elwin’s healing elixirs and then got showered with caffeine.
“Is that better?” he asked, his hands shaking as he lowered them.
Sophie nodded. “What did you just do?”
“He shared his mental energy,” Mr. Forkle said. “Impressive, Mr. Vacker.”
Fitz blushed. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Got it!” Dex shouted, and they all spun toward the door.
Something passed between Granite and Mr. Forkle then, a look equal parts fear and hope as they pulled open Prentice’s cell.
The room was massive—easily as big as Sophie’s bedroom at Havenfield, which took up the entire third floor of the house. And it was empty, save for a large bubble of glass in the center, lit by silvery spotlights. Curled on the floor inside, lying on a thin blanket, was Prentice. His dark skin glistened with sweat and his hair was a tangled, matted mess. Drool streamed from his lips as he whispered words they couldn’t hear.
“Is there a way in?” Sophie asked as Dex placed his palms against the bubble.
“I don’t know. This glass feels solid. But there has to be a door.”
“Perhaps underneath?” Mr. Forkle suggested.
Dex dropped to his knees and put his ear against the floor.
The room made Sophie’s nerves prickle. Why waste all this space if they were going to keep Prentice locked in a bubble? And why was the ceiling a web of roots and wires and metal rods? Everything else in Exile was solid metal, to prevent anyone from tunneling in.
And now that she was thinking about it, hadn’t the Collective said that today was some sort of special day, before extra security arrived?
“I can’t figure out how this stupid cage works!” Dex shouted over the still blaring alarm. “It’s like they designed it specifically to resist Technopaths. But don’t worry, I came prepared.” He pulled open the left side of his cloak to reveal a half-dozen small metal cubes strapped to his chest. “I wasn’t sure what we’d need, so each of these does something different. And at least two of them should be able to shatter the glass.”
“Wouldn’t Prentice get speared by the raining shards?” Fitz asked.
“Perhaps we could shield him using telekinesis,” Granite said to Mr. Forkle.
“I do not like leaving so much to chance,” Mr. Forkle said.
Sophie shook her head, no longer able to ignore the prickles. “This is wrong. It has to be a trick.”
“Finally, someone who sees wisdom,” a voice said behind them.
The alarm went silent as they turned to face all twelve Councillors, blocking their only escape.
TWENTY-NINE
SURRENDER IS YOUR only option,” Councillor Emery told them, his eyes looking as dark as his skin and hair.
Once upon a time, Sophie had counted the spokesman for the Council among her advocates. But she heard no trace of compassion in his velvet voice.
“We designed this trap most carefully,” he said. “Nothing was missed—including your inflicting ability, Miss Foster.”
Sophie unclenched her fists, but held fast to the frenzy she’d been brewing. “How are you going to stop me?”
“Councillor Bronte will. Should you attempt to inflict, he will be obligated to respond. And we are confident his power will overshadow yours.”
Several Councillors nodded, though a few looked apologetic. Surprisingly, Bronte fell into the latter category.
For months the sharp-featured, pointy-eared Councillor had fought to make Sophie’s life miserable. But something had changed between them, and now she believed Bronte when he traced a hand across his cropped hair and said, “I am bound by my oath. If forced, I must protect the Council, regardless of how distasteful it may be.”
“Distasteful,” Councillor Alina scoffed. “Look around you, Bronte. These children were attempting to steal a prisoner from Exile!”
“A prisoner you should’ve pardoned weeks ago,” Fitz argued.
Councillor Alina sighed as she tucked her wavy, caramel-colored hair behind her ear. “Clearly this is your mother’s influence, Mr. Vacker. She’s hiding here somewhere, isn’t she? Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”
It was no secret that Councillor Alina had tried to stop Alden and Della’s wedding, begging Alden to marry her instead. Alden had dodged a bullet there—though she hadn’t been as bad when she was principal of Foxfire. The power of being a Councillor had gone to her head.
“I feel you trying to invade my mind, Emery,” Mr. Forkle said. “Having any luck?”
“Enjoy your last moments of anonymity,” Councillor Emery told him. “They will soon end rather dramatically.”
“Perhaps.” Mr. Forkle twirled the ring on his finger, and terror boiled through Sophie.
Not yet, he transmitted. All is not lost yet.
He must’ve sent Dex and Fitz the same message, because they both straightened, neither looking particularly reassured.
“We knew you would use Miss Foster to rescue your associate,” Councillor Emery told them, “and we knew we could leak enough information to draw them here today. But I must say, we never imagined you’d be foolish enough to come along.”
“I could say the same for you,” Granite told him. “All twelve Councillors out on a mission—and without their goblins?”
“Our bodyguards exist to make our opponents underestimate us. But you do not look properly intimidated.” Councillor Emery glanced over his shoulder. “Would you mind, Clarette?”
A bronze-skinned Councillor stepped forward, her silky black hair swaying with each swish of her hips. She reminded Sophie of a volcano goddess, and the comparison made Sophie brace for some sort of earthquake. But all Clarette did was part her lips.
“That’s it?” Dex asked. “That’s . . .”
His voice trailed off as the ceiling rumbled.
Mr. Forkle pulled Sophie to his side while Granite grabbed Dex and Fitz. The five of them barely got out of the way before a dozen massive boulders crashed into the room.
No—not boulders.
Boulders couldn’t uncoil, or stretch eight feet tall, towering over them with hundreds of writhing legs.
“Arthropleura,” Councillor Emery said. “Remarkable, aren’t they?”
Sophie remembered learning about the giant, supposedly extinct arthropods in her human science classes. “I think they’re plant eaters,” she told her friends.
“True,” Councillor Emery agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they’re defenseless.”
He pointed to the long antennae jutting off the creatures’ heads. The ends had forked points, glistening with some sort of clear slime.
Councillor Clarette clicked again, making all the arthropleura drop to a ready-to-pounce position.
“Polyglots,” Mr. Forkle grumbled.
Sophie met his eyes.
No, you cannot control these creatures, he transmitted. Clarette is arguably the most powerful Polyglot our world has known—and has hundreds of years of practice.
“And this is merely one of our defenses,” Councillor Emery warned.
Sophie studied each of the Councillors, realizing how little she knew about many of them. She didn’t even know most of their names, much less their special abilities. But it seemed safe to assume they were all absurdly powerful.
It’s time for you to use your emergency pendant, Mr. Forkle told her.
I’m not going to abandon you—
Yes, you are! I have no intention of surrendering, but I can’t have you here for the fight. I’m ordering Dex and Fitz to do the same.
What about Keefe, Biana, and Della? she asked.
Almost on cue, Councillor Emery turned toward the doorway. “It looks like the rest of your group has arrived.”
The line of Councillors parted to allow Squall, Blur, Wraith, Della, Biana, and Keefe to march into the room, followed by a group of dwarves. Keefe’s eyes went right to Sophie, and she could see the panic he was trying to hide. Even more troubling was the state of his cloak. Huge chunks of fabric were missing, along with one of the sleeves. Sophie doubted there was enough left to protect him in a leap. Worse still: Della and Biana no longer had their escape pendants.
I’ll find a way to spare them, Mr. Forkle transmitted. You must leave—now!
I’m not leaving my friends!
Biana screamed as one of the arthropleura hissed at her.
Keefe pulled Biana behind him. “Yo guys, I hate to break it to you, but giant bugs are so last year. All the cool villains are threatening with ogres now.”
“We are not the villains,” Emery snapped.
“Are you sure?” Granite asked. “Threatening children seems rather villainous to me. As does leaving a damaged prisoner in a cell without so much as a bed.”
“Brave words coming from a talking rock,” Councillor Alina said. “Do you honestly expect us to take you seriously in those disguises?”
“We do indeed,” Squall said, tilting her frozen head.
All twelve Councillors’ circlets crusted with hoarfrost.
“We can do tricks too,” a female Councillor said, holding out her hands. Electricity sparked from the edges of her fingertips, tiny lightning bolts filling the air with static.
“You’re not honestly going to electrocute us, are you, Zarina?” Mr. Forkle asked.
“There are different levels of shock.” She made the air crackle until their hair stood on end.
LEAP AWAY NOW! Mr. Forkle screamed in Sophie’s mind.
But Sophie wasn’t going anywhere.
She let the fury in her heart swell and surge, filling her with a rush of churning energy. She didn’t care if Bronte would inflict on her, she could handle the pain. She could—
“RUN!” Dex shouted, flinging a copper cube into the line of Councillors.
The gadget exploded in a mist of green, putrid smoke that burned like rotten jalapeños. The Councillors hacked and wheezed, and the arthropleura scattered as Dex charged into the fray, hurling a second gadget that filled the room with loud squawking.
Dex yelled something to Sophie, but she couldn’t make out all the words as he placed a third cube in the center of the room and scrambled toward her. Blinking lights in the corners flashed like a countdown, but before it reached its end, Councillor Zarina zapped it with her lightning.
She probably meant to fry the circuits and shut the device down, but the gadget absorbed the power instead. The metal turned red-hot and the lights on the gadget started flashing and beeping a whole lot crazier as smoke curled out of the top.
“EVERYBODY GET DOWN!” Dex screamed.
The room was too loud to hear him—too many other things happening. The only person who noticed was Fitz.
He lunged for the cube, grabbing it with a yelp of pain as he raced for the door and flung it away. The gadget launched into the hall—but even with the distance, the explosion flung Fitz backward. He flew several feet before crashing down, right on the antenna of a charging arthropleura.
Sophie screamed as the barb pierced Fitz’s chest and snapped off clean. He crumpled to the floor in a convulsing heap.
THIRTY
STOP!” SOPHIE YELLED, Barely recognizing her voice.
The room fell silent—even Dex’s gadget stopped wailing—as those who hadn’t seen Fitz’s fall took in the carnage.
Sophie hurdled the wounded arthropleura and dropped to her knees at Fitz’s side. Dex had beaten her there, and his hands were pressed on Fitz’s chest trying to stop the bleeding.
“What happened?” Della asked, fighting her way to her son. Her skin turned ghostly pale when she saw how painfully still Fitz was.
“It was an accident,” Councillor Zarina said. “He—I—”
“It was my fault,” Dex mumbled.
Della removed her cloak and draped it around Fitz. “He needs a physician!”
“Exile has medical facilities,” Councillor Emery said, shouting orders at two dwarves.
“He needs elvin medicine, not dwarven,” Mr. Forkle insisted.
Sophie agreed. She’d seen how the dwarves had treated Alden’s head wound when he’d collapsed in Exile. Fitz needed much more than a plasterlike patch.
His blood was thickening like applesauce from the venom, and his breathing sounded shallow and ragged.
“Mr. Forkle says to leap Fitz out of here,” Dex whispered.
Sophie could hear the same instructions filling her head, along with details for how to contact the Black Swan’s physician. She wanted to grab Fitz and leap away, but she couldn’t leave the rest of her friends trapped in Exile.
Dex must’ve decided the same thing, because he held up his leaping crystal. “I’ll take care of him,” he promised as he grabbed Fitz and leaped the two of them away.
Outrage erupted, the Councillors ordering the dwarves to restrain the rest of their group.
“You’re seriously going to arrest us?” Biana shouted. “After what you just did to my brother?”
“It was an accident!” Councillor Zarina insisted.
It was—but it shouldn’t have happened.
A glance at Oralie told Sophie the pretty Councillor knew what she was planning—and a nod told her Oralie agreed.
Before Sophie could change her mind, she reached into her pocket and stepped to the center of the crowd. “You’re going to let us go now—or I’m going to use this.”
She held out Kenric’s cache, eliciting a round of gasps, even from the Collective.
Councillor Emery reeled on Oralie. “Is this your doing?”
“It is,” she said. “I honored Kenric’s last request. He feared Sophie would need protection—and he was right.”
“Treason!” Councillor Alina shouted, and several other Councillors agreed. Bronte and Terik tried to calm them, but it turned into a screaming match.
The only Councillor not arguing was Clarette, who sat hunched over the wounded arthropleura, whispering promises that its antenna would regrow.
Sophie was glad to hear it, but she hated that she couldn’t say the same for Fitz. A wound like his might not—
She shut the thought down before it could finish.
But what if Dex hadn’t been able to reach the physician?
Or what if something happened during the leap?
Mr. Forkle had warned them that leaping through the force field was dangerous—what if the two cloaks Fitz had been wrapped in weren’t enough?
“We don’t have time for this!” she shouted, grabbing her pendant and holding the crystal to the dim light. “So here’s how this is going to work. You let us go right now, or I will leap out of here and you’ll never see this cache again.”
This is too dangerous of a game, Mr. Forkle warned.
I don’t care, she transmitted back. She would find a way to make it work.
“Too hasty, Miss Foster,” Councillor Alina told her. “Caches can only be accessed by the person who created them.”
“Do you really think Kenric would’ve given it to her if he hadn’t made a way for her to gain access?” Oralie asked.
“Even if that’s true,” Councillor Emery said, “are you going to betray your world and hand it over to our enemies, Miss Foster? Do so, and you will prove that you’re every bit as evil as we’ve expected.”
The word “evil” hit hard, but not as hard as the question.
What would she do with the cache?
“You’re right,” Sophie said after a moment. “The cache can never go to the ogres or the Neverseen. But I could give it to Sandor. Or maybe King Enki would want it.”
Sophie had no idea if the cache held any secrets related to the goblins or dwarves, but it was the only card she could think to play.
Another nod from Oralie told her she’d played it well.
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