“Because it was only a theory. You’d told me this Mr. Forkle—whoever he is—can slip past your mental blocking. And if the barrier around your consciousness is free of imperfection—which it has to be, otherwise the madness of a broken mind could seep in—there would be no way he could sneak through. So I began to wonder if it’s your mind that pulls him in, because your mind trusts him.”
“But I don’t trust Mr. Forkle.” Especially not now that she knew the Black Swan had a leak.
“Consciously, that may be true—and with good reason. His preference for subterfuge and disguise hardly instills confidence. But subconsciously, I suspect your minds share a mutual trust based on years of close training. Don’t you believe that it was Mr. Forkle who planted the Black Swan’s secrets carefully within your memories?”
“Yes,” Sophie admitted. “But . . .”
She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Her mind was still too overloaded with the realization that Fitz got into her head.
“So you’re saying all Sophie has to do is trust me enough to let me in, and then I can read her mind?” Fitz asked.
“In the simplest of terms, yes,” Tiergan told him. “But trust is rarely so simple. That’s why I came up with today’s exercise. I’d hoped that if you were forced to share things you’d never shared with anyone else, it would trigger an even deeper connection between you two. Obviously it worked. But I’m not sure how easily it can be replicated—especially now that Sophie knows to have her guard up.”
Sophie felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Sophie,” Tiergan assured her. “But I meant what I said about trust being your greatest asset. Letting Fitz into your mind will only make you both stronger during this healing. So I hope you’re willing to try the exercise again—and to not shove Fitz away if he does manage to bypass your blocking.”
Sophie glanced at Fitz as she nodded, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was.
He must have been, because he asked Tiergan, “Does that mean we have to share three more secrets?”
Tiergan smiled as he sank back into his chair. “No, I think this time it should be five.”
“So what’s going on with you and Wonderboy?” Dex asked as soon as Sandor had left them alone. He’d stopped by after school to make sure Sophie was feeling okay. But she wasn’t really in the mood for company.
“I saw the way he ignored you in study hall,” he pressed as he plopped down beside her. “Something has to be up.”
Sophie stared at the elvin history book she was pretending to read.
What was up was that she’d been so busy trying to keep her mind clear of anything embarrassing that she’d barely listened to the secrets Fitz had shared with her. Even now, the only thing she could remember was that he’d put Fart a la Carte in Biana’s breakfast before her Level One Opening Ceremonies, and gave her a raging case of stinky gas.
And the secrets she’d shared had been fairly lame. So basically, the entire exercise had been a total failure, and Fitz hadn’t talked to her since.
Dex nudged Sophie’s elbow, making it clear he wasn’t going to let it go. So she closed her book—a little harder than she meant to—and told him, “Fitz was just upset because I freaked out when he got past my blocking and—”
“Wait,” Dex interrupted. “He got past your blocking?”
“Yeah. Tiergan had us do this exercise where we had to share all these secrets, and something about the process made my mind pull Fitz past my defenses. Which is cool—but I wasn’t expecting it. So I totally freaked out and blocked Fitz again. And then we couldn’t re-create it, so now he thinks I don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust him?” Dex asked.
“Of course. It was just super weird having someone in my head. But I have to get over it. Tiergan gave me this long lecture on how crucial it is that I let Fitz in, and I know he’s right.”
“Why?” Dex asked. “I mean, you’re the one with all the superspecial telepathy. What do you need Fitz for?”
“For backup. Plus, my telepathy is strongest when I’m working with him—and his is strongest with me. It’s like we have a connection or something.”
“A connection,” Dex repeated.
He shook his head as he walked over to her wall of windows, keeping his eyes focused on the glass. “He’s not that special, you know. I could make a gadget that does everything he does. In fact, I could make one that does it better.”
“I’m . . . pretty sure you can’t,” Sophie said gently.
“Why? You don’t think I’m talented enough?”
“Of course not. It’s just, if someone could invent a telepathy gadget, don’t you think they would’ve done it already?”
“Maybe no one’s ever tried.”
Sophie actually didn’t see why they would. If anyone needed a Telepath for something, they could just ask a Telepath.
Luckily she stopped herself from saying that. Dex’s ears had turned the same color her elixirs used to turn in alchemy, right before they exploded.
“Listen, Dex. I didn’t mean your ability isn’t awesome—”
“Not awesome enough, apparently.”
“That’s not what I meant. There are just some things only a Telepath can do.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer as he pulled out his home crystal.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yup.” But he didn’t sound angry. He even flashed a confident smile as he told her, “I’m going to build you a gadget that does everything Wonderboy can do—and then you’ll see which one of us you should trust.”
“Oh—I thought Dex was here,” Edaline said from the doorway. She held a crystal tray with three extra-thick slices of mallowmelt balanced on it.
Standing behind her was Biana.
“He just left,” Sophie told them as they made their way into her bedroom.
Clearly Edaline thought that was strange, but all she said was, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to share his piece, then,” and set the tray on the bed.
She left them alone with their snack, and they each grabbed their plates of mallowmelt, letting the gooey sweetness—and the sound of chewing—fill the awkward silence.
“Sorry to drop by out of the blue again,” Biana eventually told her. “You left so fast after study hall that I didn’t get a chance to ask if you were busy.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I kinda just wanted to get out of there.”
“I know. So did my brother. You guys must’ve had quite an interesting telepathy session.”
Sophie could feel her blush burn her ears. “So how mad is he?”
“Oh, he wasn’t mad. When he’s mad, he yells—though I guess you already know that.” She stared at her plate, squishing what was left of her cake with her fork. “Today he just seemed . . . disappointed.”
“Disappointed,” Sophie repeated.
Somehow that felt so much worse than mad.
“Can you tell him I’m sorry?” she asked, but Biana was already shaking her head.
“Uh-uh. I’m so not getting in the middle.”
“Yeah, that’s probably better,” Sophie agreed.
Not that there was anything for Biana to be in the middle of—unless she knew something Sophie didn’t, which Sophie couldn’t exactly ask her.
“So what’s the deal with Dex?” Biana asked, switching from one awkward subject to another.
Sophie told her about Dex’s new invention plan, figuring Biana would think he was as crazy as she did.
Instead she told Sophie, “Aw, just try to go easy on him. He’s fighting such an impossible battle.” And something about the way she said it made Sophie wonder if she was even referring to the invention.
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, how come you came over? Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here.”
Well, nothing she was ready to talk about. Her newest Jolie revelations had been carefully tucked away into the I’m not ready to deal with this section of her mind.
“I figured, since you hadn’t told me anything,” Biana told her. “But . . . I did a little searching on my own. I snuck into my dad’s office and vanished, so I was there while he did his nightly update with the Council.”
Sophie leaned closer, not sure if she should feel excited or guilty about what Biana had done.
“Most of it was boring stuff. Complaints he was getting about tomorrow’s healing. Something about Grady not making any progress on the dwarves. But there was one thing I knew I had to tell you. A goblin patrol found some new tracks outside the Sanctuary. They were far away from the gates, and whoever made them was only there briefly. But one of the footprints definitely belonged to an ogre.”
THIRTY
SOPHIE HAD WANTED TO HAIL Alden, but Biana wouldn’t let her.
They couldn’t risk that he’d figure out how they’d heard about the footprints, and if he did, they’d never be able to use that trick again. Plus, Biana would probably be grounded for the rest of eternity.
But Sophie had to make sure Silveny was okay.
She lay back on her bed, staring at the crystal stars that dangled from her ceiling and hoping Master Leto was right about her abilities. She had no idea how she’d been able to transmit to Fitz from so far away—she’d operated mostly on instinct, mixed with a healthy dash of desperation.
But she was feeling pretty desperate right then, so she hoped that would be enough to create a connection.
Silveny? she called, fueling the transmission with every ounce of fear she could muster. Can you hear me? I need you to know you’re okay. Please, please reply.
No answer.
She closed her eyes, letting her worries feed off one another until her head buzzed with static-like energy. It hummed and thrummed and hissed and swished until she couldn’t bear the noise any longer. Then she shoved it out of her mind, along with another desperate transmission to Silveny. And as she lay there, gasping for breath, her mind filled with the most wonderful sound ever.
Friend?
Yes! Sophie transmitted back, afraid to move or breathe or do anything to sever the connection.
Friend! Sophie! Visit! Treats!
No, I’m not visiting right now—and I can’t send you any treats. But I’m so glad you’re safe.
Safe! Silveny agreed. She filled Sophie’s mind with scenes of her galloping through the violet pastures, and streaking through the rainbow sky with Greyfell at her side.
Sophie couldn’t decide what made her happier—knowing Silveny was safe, or seeing her getting along with Greyfell. Either way, she sank into the feeling, letting her mind drift with Silveny’s cool, breezy memories.
And for the first time in weeks, she finally slept.
“Can we talk?” Sophie asked, stopping Fitz on their way to the main Foxfire building.
Fitz glanced at all the prodigies lingering around them. “We should probably talk in my head.”
Sophie nodded, opening her mind to his thoughts before she transmitted, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have panicked like that.
No, I’m sorry, too. I still get freaked out sometimes when I let someone into my head—and I’m used to it.
It’s definitely weird, Sophie agreed. But . . . I’m glad you can do it. And I’m going to do my best not to block you the next time it happens.
Fitz grinned.
So you trust me? she asked softly.
Of course. Do you still trust me?
Probably more than anyone.
So will you at least tell me what you and Biana have been working on, then?
If you really want to know—but it’s not as awesome as you think it is.
Fitz insisted he didn’t care, so she told him about the leak in the Black Swan and the homing device and the ogre footprints outside the Sanctuary. His brows rose higher with each new detail. But before she got to the part about Jolie, Stina shoved her way between them.
“Aw, look at the traitors having their secret conversation,” she said, tossing her hair into Sophie’s face. “All set to heal a worthless criminal tonight?”
“None of your business,” Sophie told her.
“Actually, it’s everyone’s business. And don’t think we won’t be watching to see what mess you make this time.”
She tossed her hair again as she stalked away, and Sophie glanced at the crowd of prodigies still watching them—most of them looking less than supportive.
You sure you want to deal with stuff like this? she transmitted to Fitz.
Oh, I’m definitely in. And nothing’s going to go wrong, okay?
There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his mind, and Sophie wished she could feel the same. But all she could hear was Fintan’s mocking laughter from the last time she’d had to see him.
She could worry about ogres and Black Swan leaks later. Right now she needed to focus on getting them through the healing.
Practice during study hall? she asked Fitz.
He nodded. See you there. And try not to stress too much until then.
They both smiled sadly, knowing it was an impossible request.
Fortunately, Lady Veda—Sophie’s elementalism Mentor—had her working on something far less dangerous than her usual tornado-bottling fare. She’d placed an etched crystal basin filled with water in the center of the table and showed Sophie how to bottle the ripples that formed when she tapped the water with her fingers. Sophie didn’t see the point of collecting such an insignificant amount of force, but when the bells chimed the end of session, Lady Veda held out one of the bottles.
“Never underestimate the power of a small change,” she told her, pressing it into Sophie’s hand.
She was obviously referring to the healing, but whether she was in favor or against, Sophie couldn’t decide. And the rest of her fellow prodigies seemed just as unsure. Stares and whispers trailed Sophie like a shadow, and when she let herself pay attention, she couldn’t find a consensus. Some thought she was brave. Others clearly agreed with Stina.
But the majority were simply afraid.
It was so strange having everyone know so much about her assignment. Even her agriculture Mentor—a stocky gnome who insisted on being called Barth the Reaper—had heard about the scandal. And when Sophie walked into study hall, the whole room went quiet.
“All right—nothing to see,” Keefe told them, rushing Sophie to a table in the dimmest corner. Fitz was already there, slouching in his chair.
“That Stina girl’s been telling people that you’re going to do some sort of freaky Inflictor thing on Fitz to prepare, and everyone’s waiting to see,” Keefe explained. “I’m guessing that’s a total lie—but I gotta say, that would be awesome.”
“Yeah, well it’s not happening.” Sophie sat, hiding her face behind her hair as she transmitted, You still want to practice? to Fitz.
He nodded, and she opened her thoughts to his mind, cringing when she saw his mental turmoil.
Has your day been as weird as mine? he asked. People are taping notes to my locker saying, “Keep the criminals where they belong” and “Whose side are you on?”
It’s not too late to change your—
“Will you stop worrying?” Keefe asked, waving Sophie’s stress vibes away from his face. “Trust me—my boy can handle himself.”
“Or you could let me help,” Dex said, marching up behind them.
He pulled a slightly-less-than-round silver circlet out of his satchel and set it proudly on the table.
“What is that?” Fitz asked.
“Something I whipped up last night after Sophie and I talked.”
He picked up the circlet and slipped it over Sophie’s head. It slid down to her ears, covering her eyes and matting her hair against her face.
“Huh, your head must be smaller than mine,” Dex said as he spun the circlet so the clear tri
llion-cut crystals on each side rested over her temples, and tilted it so it wouldn’t cover her eyes. “I can tighten it when I get home. The healing’s not till this evening, right?”
“Right,” Sophie told him. “But I’m not wearing this—whatever it is.”
She reached up to remove it, but Dex blocked her.
“It’ll help enhance all your telepathic abilities!”
“Seriously?” Fitz asked as Keefe snatched the circlet off Sophie’s head and said, “Cool—will it tell me what Foster’s thinking?”
“No, I only made it enhance existing abilities—so far,” Dex told him, taking his creation back.
“What do you mean, ‘so far’?” Dame Alina asked, stalking up to their table. She checked her reflection in one of the windows as she asked, “You really think a gadget can affect someone’s ability?”
“Why not?” Dex asked.
“I can think of several reasons—but the fact that it’s never been done in all our years of history seems to be the strongest argument,” Dame Alina replied.
“Maybe no one’s cared enough to try,” Dex argued.
“Or maybe you’re just trying to fix your Talentless dad,” someone called, triggering a wave of snickers.
“That’s enough of that!” Dame Alina shouted, reeling around to face the rest of her prodigies. “I will not warn you again.”
She turned back to Dex. “Mr. Dizznee—put that contraption away and take a seat. And the rest of you’d best spend the rest of this session perfecting the art of silence, or you will give me an opportunity to put some of my newest—and, I daresay, most ingenious—punishments into effect. Understood?”
Shuffling paper was the only reply.
“Good,” she said, waiting until the circlet was safely out of sight before returning to her desk.
“So you’re not going to use my invention?” Dex whispered while pretending to write in his notebook.
Sophie shook her head.
Dex was incredibly talented with gadgets. But she wasn’t about to bring an untested piece of technology into an already dangerous situation.
Dex sighed, but didn’t say anything, using the rest of study hall to sketch a diagram of the circlet, covered in lines and numbers and all kinds of crazy things Sophie couldn’t translate.
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