“Of course.” Alden nodded a slight bow, and Kenric did the same as he pulled a pathfinder out of his cape’s pocket and adjusted the round crystal at the end of the etched ward.
“I’ll be back in touch as soon as the arrangements have been made,” he said, glancing quickly at Sophie before he held his pathfinder up to the sun. “Oh, and give my congratulations to Biana!”
“What did he mean?” Sophie asked after Kenric glittered away.
She’d meant the mysterious “arrangements” Kenric had mentioned. But if Alden realized that, he pretended not to.
“I fear I must leave you in suspense,” he said as he led them up the crystal steps and pulled open the towering silver doors to Everglen. “Biana will never forgive me if I spoil her surprise.”
SEVEN
GIDDY SHRIEKS ECHOED OFF THE prismlike halls, followed by a huge fit of giggles. But when Alden led Sophie and Keefe to a wide sitting room filled with intricate statues and throne-size armchairs, they found Fitz standing alone.
“Where’s Biana?” Sophie asked, hoping Keefe couldn’t tell that her heart was doing the embarrassing fluttery thing it always did whenever she met Fitz’s impossibly teal eyes.
“Right here!” Biana shouted.
The air shimmered in front of them, and Biana seemed to appear out of nowhere. She twirled, making her pale pink gown flare before she disappeared again, like a ghostly ballerina.
“I’m a Vanisher now—can you believe it?” she asked, though only her head blinked back into sight. She scowled at where her body should be. “I guess I’m still getting the hang of it.”
“Of course you are,” Della told her, appearing beside her daughter with a graceful swish. “It takes years to perfect the skill—though I must say, you’re showing incredible control. Alvar took days before he could vanish completely, and he was a year older than you when he manifested.”
Biana beamed at that, letting Della show her how to wiggle her shoulders to make the rest of her body reappear. Side by side with their pink gowns and long dark hair, Biana had never looked more like her strikingly beautiful mother—even before they both vanished again.
“Ugh, they’ve been at it all day,” Fitz grumbled. “It’s been hours of ‘Look—I’m invisible. Now I’m not! Now I am!’”
Biana rolled her eyes as she reappeared. “Like you were any less annoying with your ‘I can tell you what you’re thinking right now! And now! And now!’”
Keefe snorted.
“Don’t get so cocky, Mr. ‘I keep laughing and crying at the same time!’” Fitz warned him.
“Hey—feeling people’s emotions for the first time is intense,” Keefe argued.
They all turned to Sophie like they were waiting for her to share her manifesting-a-special-ability story too. But she doubted they’d enjoy hearing about her waking up in the hospital at five years old, crying because the blaring thoughts were giving her a headache. Or waking up in a strange city after being kidnapped, and discovering she could suddenly understand other languages and inflict pain on people. Or even crashing toward the ocean, convinced she was about to die, until her instincts kicked in and she’d teleported them to safety—though Keefe had been there for that one.
“So I guess this means you’ll start vanishing sessions, right?” Sophie asked, changing the subject as fast as she could.
“Yes,” Alden agreed. “I guess I’ll have to talk to Dame Alina about possible Mentors.”
He sounded less than thrilled about it—though Fitz and Keefe found it hilarious.
Alden and Dame Alina had an interesting history—especially the part where Dame Alina showed up at Alden and Della’s wedding and tried to convince him to marry her, instead.
“So I really don’t have to take ability detecting anymore?” Biana asked, jumping up and down, and blinking like a strobe light in the process. “Stina’s going to freak! She’ll never admit it, but I know she’s secretly hoping she’ll be a Vanisher. Well, assuming she even gets an ability.”
“Now, now, none of that,” Della warned her. “You have every right to be proud of your ability—especially for manifesting at such a young age. But I won’t have you judging others.”
Della waited until Biana mumbled an apology.
Sophie became very interested in her shoes. She definitely agreed about the judging-people thing, but . . . Stina won the prize for Most Awful Girl at Foxfire—ever. She acted like she was better than everyone, even though her own father didn’t actually have a special ability. And Sophie had heard a bunch of rumors about how Stina’s father was doing all kinds of shady things to work his way into the Nobility, despite the fact that he was Talentless—though she had no idea how much of that was true. All she knew was that the Hekses were horrible, and she wished they would move far, far away. Especially since they were still trying to convince the Council that their family should be the ones caring for Silveny.
“What?” Keefe asked as Sophie sucked in a breath.
She shook her head and forced a smile, pretending to listen to Biana talk about vanishing. But . . . if Stina’s parents found out that the rebels had breached the security at the Sanctuary, they might be able to use that to convince the Council to turn Silveny over to their care. And if that happened, then—
“Did you hear anything I just said?” Biana asked, nudging Sophie’s arm.
“Not really,” she admitted.
Biana sighed. “Lame! I said we should all go play base quest! I finally have an ability—and it’s an even better one than Sophie’s!”
“I dunno about that,” Keefe interrupted.
Sophie elbowed him before he could finish.
Thanks to a bunch of misunderstandings, her friendship with Biana had been a bit rocky at times—but they were finally in a good place.
Besides, she didn’t have time for games.
“I need to talk to you,” she told Alden, stepping away from her friends.
Alden didn’t look surprised by the news. “Why don’t we go to my office? There’s something I need to tell you as well—privately,” he added when Keefe turned to join them.
Keefe didn’t bother arguing. But he shot Sophie a look that seemed to say, You will tell me everything later as she followed Alden down the crystal hallway.
Fountains shot colored streams of water over their heads, and they passed room after room filled with fancy furniture and twinkling chandeliers before finally stopping at the all-too-familiar round office, where half the room was lined with a floor-to-ceiling aquarium, the other half made of windows overlooking a glassy lake.
Sophie sank into the same plush armchair she’d sat in when Alden had explained that she’d have to drug her human family and never see them again, and she tried to tell herself nothing could be worse news. But it was hard to believe it when she noticed the deep crease across Alden’s usually smooth brow.
“I can see you’re worried,” he said after a second, “so I’ll tell you my news first. Councillor Kenric came to see me today to let me know that the Council has finally come to a decision regarding mind healings.”
The cautious tone to his voice made her heart feel heavy. “They’re not going to let me heal Prentice, are they?”
“Actually, they still haven’t reached a decision on that matter.”
He cleared his throat and rose to stand by the curved window, staring at the slowly setting sun.
“Then what’s wrong?” Sophie asked, gripping the arms of her chair to brace for the bad news.
“Hopefully nothing. But that’s up to you.” He turned back to face her, his expression impossible to read. “The decision may come as a surprise—it was certainly a surprise to me. And I should warn you that it was an order, not a request.”
Sophie swallowed, hating how dry her mouth felt as her mind raced through a list of worst-case scenarios.
Still, she never could’ve guessed that Alden would tell her, “The Council has ordered you to perform a healing on Fintan.”
EIGHT
WHY?”
It was a tiny word—much too small to hold the avalanche of emotions currently crashing through Sophie’s head. But it was the only thing she could think to say.
“Why what?” Alden asked after a second.
“I don’t know.” Sophie stood, needing to move, to try and figure out why part of her wanted to cry and the rest of her wanted to punch something really, really hard.
“I guess I don’t understand why the Council thinks Fintan deserves to be healed,” she admitted. “I mean, you gave him a ton of chances to save himself, and he chose to have his mind broken instead.”
She should probably feel horrible for saying that. But she’d seen Fintan’s memories. She’d watched his hunger for power cause the death of five other Pyrokinetics. She’d seen him illegally training an unregistered Pyrokinetic to spark Everblaze—probably the same Pyrokinetic who’d kidnapped her and Dex and started the fires that killed hundreds of innocent humans. She’d felt his fury toward the Council and knew he would stop at nothing to take them down, even if it meant breaking her and Alden’s sanity along with his—which he’d very nearly done.
Alden sighed. “I’m not convinced that anyone—even Fintan—deserves to spend an eternity trapped in the madness of a broken mind.”
She reached for his hand, wondering how much he remembered about his own shattered days.
“I do understand why you’re reluctant to heal Fintan, though,” he added quietly. “And I hold many of the same reservations. But Fintan has information that could lead us to the rebels. He managed to stop us from taking it during the memory break, but thanks to you, we have a second chance to learn who he’s protecting. And you know better than anyone how important that information is.”
But the thought of entering Fintan’s mind again . . .
“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Alden promised.
Sophie sank heavily into her chair. “It just seems so . . . unfair. Why does Fintan get to be healed when Prentice is stuck with a broken mind? The only crime Prentice committed was protecting me!”
Shadows settled into Alden’s features, making him look twenty years older. “Believe me, no one is more aware of that than me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t—and you don’t have to worry, I’m not feeling guilty. Well, not too guilty, anyway. I’m simply frustrated, like you. In fact, I made the same point to Kenric while he was here. But he explained to me that that’s the problem. Fintan’s easy. With or without his mind healed, he’s guilty, and had he given us the information we needed in the first place, we still would’ve exiled him for his crimes. But Prentice is an entirely different situation. He’s not necessarily guilty, but he’s not exactly innocent either. The Black Swan are still classified as rebels. Yes, some of the things they’ve done are good things. But they’ve done them illegally. And that makes Prentice still technically a criminal. Essentially, Prentice is a lovely shade of gray. And the Council only knows what to do with black and white.”
“So they’ll leave his mind broken forever?”
“Nobody said forever, Sophie. But for now, when there is no obvious solution, the Council has decided to give themselves time to think through all the possible options, until the best course of action becomes clearer. I don’t think you understand how ill equipped our world is for these kinds of issues. The Council is facing dilemmas that have never been seen in all the thousands of years of our history. They’ve accepted that now is a time for change. But they want to make sure it’s the right change, and they need more information before they move forward—information that Fintan hopefully has. Will you help get it for them?”
“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”
“It was an order, yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure you’re okay with this. You’re a very talented girl, and as a result you’ve had tremendous responsibilities heaped on your shoulders. But you’re also thirteen. If this is too much, I will go back to the Council and make them reconsider. I already warned Kenric—and he agreed.”
Sophie doubted Alden and Kenric would be able to change their minds. The Councillors seemed to be getting increasingly divided in decisions concerning her.
And it didn’t matter. Much as she dreaded having to see Fintan again, he really was her best chance at stopping her kidnappers.
“I’ll do the healing,” she said, wishing her stomach didn’t feel so squirmy as she said it.
Alden smiled sadly. “You never cease to amaze me, Sophie. And I promise, there will be a day when your life goes back to normal.”
Sophie wasn’t sure she even knew what a “normal life” meant for an elf. But she hoped she’d get to find out someday.
“So when am I supposed to heal him?” she asked.
“Kenric said the Council is still making the arrangements. Given what happened last time, they want to be sure they’ve considered every variable, so that there will be no issues.”
“Issues” was putting it mildly.
She’d never forget the searing pain when Fintan burned her wrist to break their concentration, or finding Alden unconscious on the floor, his head streaked with red.
“It will be safe this time,” Alden promised—and Sophie tried to believe him. But her legs were pretty shaky as she stood to leave.
“Wait, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Alden asked.
“Oh, right.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about Silveny.
Sophie showed him the silver tracker, explaining where she’d found it, and how Greyfell had known it was there. Alden’s jaw clenched tighter with every word.
“Well,” he said after an endless stretch of silence, “I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.”
Alden had said those words to her dozens of times since she’d met him. But she’d never believed them less.
“Don’t you think we should move Silveny somewhere secret?” she asked. “Not that Jurek’s not doing a great job. He’s trying really hard. But the rebels still found a way in. Just like they found a way into Havenfield that time we found the footprint.”
It might even be the same Pyrokinetic who snuck into both places. Unless . . .
“Do you think those tracks the goblins found outside the Sanctuary were made by ogres?”
“How did you know about that?” Alden asked.
“Keefe told me. And I saw the effluxers.”
Alden nodded and turned to pace, crossing the room three times before he said, “The thing you have to keep in mind when it comes to goblins, Sophie, is that they tend to assume the ogres are behind everything. In fact, both species are always accusing the other of violating the treaties we’ve worked so hard to put in place. So yes, the goblins on patrol discovered some strange tracks—tracks that definitely shouldn’t have been there, which was why we investigated them so thoroughly. But Alvar found no proof that the tracks were connected to the ogres in any way. And neither did Lady Cadence.”
“Lady Cadence, my linguistics mentor?” Sophie interrupted.
“Yes. She was living with the ogres before she was brought back to mentor you, remember?”
Yes, and she seemed to deeply resent Sophie for it.
“Why did the Council choose her to mentor me?” Sophie couldn’t resist asking.
“Because she’s the most talented linguist in our world, and giving you the best training possible is far more important than her research into ogre technology. And it’s good we have her back, because she was able to make us those effluxers, which we added outside the Sanctuary just to be safe. And speaking of safe”—he held out his hand—“I’ll need to keep that tracker, so I can show it to the Council.”
Sophie handed it over, happy to be rid of it. The last thing she wanted was to have the rebels know her every move—which made her wonder . . .
“Why would the rebels even bother tracking Silveny? I mean, they already know she’s in the
Sanctuary. Why risk getting caught, just to be able to monitor her every move?”
“That is what I intend to find out.”
He flashed his most confident smile, and Sophie did her best to accept it. But she still vowed to do everything she could on her own.
“You’re going home?” Alden asked as she held her home crystal up to the light.
“Yeah. If I’m not back by sunset, Sandor’s going to murder Keefe.”
Alden glanced out the window, where the last splashes of pink were fading into the purple twilight sky. “I guess I should warn Keefe to flee for his life.”
Sandor was waiting outside Havenfield when Sophie arrived, and his glare told her he was very aware she’d missed her curfew. But all he said as he sheathed his long black sword and motioned for her to follow him inside was, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Sophie turned in the opposite direction.
She knew the Black Swan wanted her to sit back and wait—but the rebels had just changed the game.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sandor asked, keeping pace with her as she made her way through the pastures.
Her palms turned sweaty as she pressed her thumb against the sensor on the padlock to the Cliffside gates, and the green flash seemed especially bright as it clicked open—or maybe that was because the path beyond the gate looked so much darker than normal.
“I demand to know what’s going on,” Sandor said as he blocked her from heading down the stairs.
She tried to push past him, but it was like slamming into a rough-skinned mountain. “I just . . . need to leave a note.”
“A note,” Sandor repeated.
“Yeah.” She reached into her pocket, tracing her fingers around the tiny green bottle she’d unearthed earlier.
The Black Swan had sent her dozens of messages over the last few months.
It was time to send one of her own.
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