Everblaze

by Shannon Messenger

  “Our world has been teetering on the edge of a blade for a very long time, Sophie. In fact . . . I think that’s why you’re here—why you grew up where you did. So you could see our world through different eyes. Help us find our way. Just like you did for Grady and me. You’ve made us whole again. Given us back our lives. Now it’s our turn to help you.”

  She brushed another tear off Sophie’s cheek.

  “I want you to know that Grady and I are here for you, okay? I know you try to protect us. And I know you like to do things on your own. But we’re all going to lean on each other this time. Please don’t push us away.”

  Maybe it was because Edaline sounded so strong and sure.

  Or maybe Sophie just couldn’t face another long, lonely night.

  Either way, she tightened her grip on Edaline’s wrist and whispered, “Will you stay here tonight?”

  “Of course.” Edaline kissed Sophie’s cheek and settled under the covers, stroking Sophie’s back again.

  Slowly, very very slowly, Sophie finally fell asleep.

  And when she woke up and found Edaline still sleeping peacefully next to her, she knew she was ready to face the day.

  FORTY

  NEWS OF THE FIRE SPREAD faster than the Everblaze, and when Sophie came downstairs for breakfast, a scroll from the Council sat waiting on the kitchen table.

  Sophie sank into her chair next to Grady and took one of the colorful pastries from the platter in the center. The gooey cake was covered in sugar and sprinkles—but it turned to sour in her mouth when she read the Council’s message:

  TOMORROW AT MIDDAY WE WILL HONOR THE LIFE AND LEGACY OF

  COUNCILLOR KENRIC ELGAR FATHDON

  BY PLANTING HIS SEED IN THE WANDERLING WOODS

  AN ADDRESS FROM THE COUNCIL WILL FOLLOW,

  ALONG WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR NOMINATION PROCEEDINGS.

  “What do they mean by nominations?” Sophie asked, rolling up the scroll so she wouldn’t have to look at it.

  “Nominations for the next Councillor.”

  “They’re replacing him already?”

  “They have to, Sophie. The very foundation of our world has been shattered, and we must rebuild it immediately. That doesn’t mean we won’t grieve. But we must also keep working to protect our people. You can’t tell me that’s not what Kenric would’ve wanted.”

  She couldn’t.

  But she still hated it.

  She stood, wandering to the wall of windows, watching the dinosaurs graze in the pastures beyond.

  “How do the nominations work?” she asked, not sure she’d be able to survive a long campaign with speeches and debates.

  Grady moved to stand beside her. “The public will be allowed to privately submit nominations for members of the Nobility who qualify for consideration. Then the Council will ultimately decide.”

  “And how long does that normally take?”

  “It depends on how quickly the Councillors agree. But I suspect this time will move incredibly quickly. I only hope they’ll elect a Councillor as compassionate and considerate as Kenric.”

  Sophie couldn’t help hoping the new Councillor would also be on her side. She hated to admit it—hated herself for even thinking it. But Kenric had always been one of her strongest supporters. Losing even one vote could sway the rulings against her.

  “Is there any chance you or Alden will be nominated?” she asked quietly.

  “No—thankfully. The Councillors aren’t allowed to be married. It’s their responsibility to make decisions for the good of all people, and having a wife or children could threaten their impartiality.”

  “But . . . what if they fall in love?”

  “Then they can choose to resign from the Council—which definitely has happened in the past. Or they can opt to ignore the feelings. The choice is entirely up to them.”

  Suddenly Kenric’s longing looks at Oralie made much more sense. Which made Sophie’s heart extra heavy.

  Kenric sacrificed so much for the good of his world—and look how his world repaid him.

  No—not his whole world, Sophie corrected.

  A small band with their own agenda.

  Villains.

  She was tired of calling them “rebels.”

  They were kidnappers.

  Killers.

  And she was going to stop them.

  “I’ve seen that look in your eye before, Sophie,” Grady said, resting a hand on her shoulder, “and I can’t say I blame you for it. I also doubt I can stop you. So I’m only going to ask you one thing: Remember who you can trust, and keep them close. Don’t push them away.”

  Sophie nodded, and he pulled her into a hug.

  “If I might add something,” Sandor said behind them. “I would like to renew my request for you to stay by my side. I am already getting reports of highly increased unrest among the public, and I fear in the coming days you will need more protection than normal.”

  “Because everyone blames me,” Sophie mumbled, trying to pull away from Grady.

  Grady tightened his hold. “The people of our world fear the new and the different. But you are brave and strong and smart enough to not believe what they say. Trust your friends and your family, know that they love you and will support you no matter what.”

  “And keep your bodyguard close,” Sandor added.

  “Yes, and that.” Grady sighed, trailing his hand through Sophie’s hair. “I know you don’t want to talk about yesterday, Sophie—and I respect that. But if you change your mind, I’m here.”

  Sophie squeezed him tighter, blinking back her tears.

  She wasn’t going to cry.

  She was going to fight.

  “By the way,” Grady said, slowly letting her go. “Tiergan asked me to tell you to record everything you remember from yesterday—not just what you saw in Fintan’s mind. The Council is trying to piece together what happened during the fire.”

  Sophie’s eyes dropped to her feet. “I doubt I’m going to be much help. If Fitz hadn’t warned me about the Everblaze, I probably wouldn’t have realized what was happening until it was too late. I think that was Fintan’s plan.”

  Grady’s expression turned murderous. But he said nothing as Sophie turned and headed upstairs.

  She pulled out her memory log and spent the rest of the day fighting to remember anything that might give her something to go on.

  She projected the memory Fintan had once again managed to stop her from recovering and placed it side by side with her other projection from the first break with Alden.

  She could see more of the mysterious pyrokinetic’s robe—though there was nothing special about it, except perhaps the vivid red color. She could also see the shape of his face. The edges were blurred, but his chin was prominent and his dark hair looked neatly styled. So he was probably someone who cared about his appearance.

  Probably, Sophie thought bitterly, shoving the memory log aside.

  All she could do was guess and speculate about pointless details—hardly the revelation she needed.

  She was about to close the log and tuck it away, when she noticed one final difference between the two projected scenes. She’d been concentrating so hard on her kidnapper, she’d forgotten to notice that she could see more of Fintan, too—especially in the early part of the memory, when he was pointing at the star he was teaching her kidnapper to call.

  His cloak was black, with long, thick sleeves. And near the top of his shoulder was a white patch with an eye.

  Keefe had seen the same patch on the rebels, so to see Fintan wearing it wasn’t necessarily earth-shattering. But she could see a word this time—written in runes that she wouldn’t have expected she’d be able to read.

  The word triggered no memories in her mind, so the Black Swan must not be familiar with it.

  But the nameless rebels had a name.

  Neverseen.

  FORTY-ONE

  SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED AGAIN, DIDN’T it?” Vertina asked as Sophie squinte
d at her reflection, trying to make sure she didn’t miss any of the tiny silver hooks that fastened the bodice of her shimmering green gown.

  She still felt strange wearing something so bright and cheerful at a funeral. But the elves’ tradition was to wear green, to symbolize life.

  Not that it made the funerals any less depressing.

  Sophie sighed and pinned back part of her hair with an emerald comb. “Yes. One of the Councillors died.”

  Vertina closed her eyes, her tiny face looking pinched. “I’m sorry. Did you know him?”

  “Not as well as I would’ve liked,” Sophie admitted as she spread a little pink gloss over her lips. “Not as well as I should have.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vertina repeated. “What happened?”

  “He was killed in a fire, by a group called the Neverseen.”

  Sophie had told Grady and Edaline the name she’d discovered—and hailed Alden and done the same. None of them had heard any trace of it ever mentioned.

  So Sophie’s heart picked up speed when Vertina shook her tiny head and whispered, “Not them again.”

  “What do you mean? Do you know who they are?”

  Vertina’s eyes stretched as wide as they could go, and she squeaked something about saying too much and clicked away.

  “I’m going to have Dex reprogram you to tell me!” Sophie shouted, pounding on the glass.

  Vertina clicked back. “He’d never have the chance. I have an auto erase feature—I can wipe my memory clean and reset if I have to.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t want to. I want you to give me the password so I can trust you. Haven’t you found it yet?”

  No. All she’d found was a stupid human mirror. Unless . . .

  “Is it ‘follow the pretty bird across the sky’?”

  Vertina shook her head sadly. “No. But a bird is connected to it.”

  Sophie knew Vertina probably meant the clue to be helpful. But it wasn’t exactly a revelation. The Black Swan used birds for everything.

  “A bird is connected to what?” Grady asked from the doorway.

  “Oh, um, just a game Vertina and I are playing,” Sophie told him, throwing her green velvet cape over her shoulders and pinning it with her Ruewen crest.

  She could tell Grady was less than impressed with her lie. But all he said was, “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took another glance at her reflection, hating that she looked more like she was heading off to prom. But Grady was dressed just as formally: velvet pants, an intricately embroidered jerkin, and a gold-trimmed silk cape—though his clothes were a deep hunter green.

  The hint of dark matched the shadows under his eyes as he offered Sophie his hand and told her, “Today is probably going to be pretty miserable.”

  “I know. I keep wishing it could be like last time, when I still had a little hope to hold on to.”

  “There’s always hope, Sophie. Just because Kenric is gone doesn’t mean that his work, and the things he stood for, will vanish. It’s just going to take everyone a little time to heal.”

  Sophie cringed.

  “Sorry. Bad choice of word.” Grady sighed, mussing his hair. “You ready?”

  She wasn’t. But she took his hand and they made their way up the stairs, with Sandor close behind.

  Edaline was waiting for them in the fourth floor cupola, standing under the glittering crystals of the Leapmaster. Her wispy, silky dress floated around her like a summer breeze, and Sophie was relieved to see how calm Edaline looked. No tears. No shadows. Just a sad smile as she strangled Sophie with a hug.

  “Remember, we’re here for you,” she whispered into Sophie’s ear.

  “I’m fine,” Sophie promised.

  But she didn’t feel fine as Grady called the Leapmaster to bring them the crystal for the Wanderling Woods. Especially when Sandor joined them under the crystals.

  The Council would only allow a goblin into the Wanderling Woods if they were expecting some sort of danger.

  Sophie had thought the crowd for Alden’s planting had been huge—but it was nothing compared to the turnout for Kenric. A never-ending line of green-clad figures stretched down the silvery path, waiting silently for their turn to pass through the archway that proclaimed Those who wander are not lost.

  And they weren’t just elves. Gnomes, goblins, dwarves, and some sort of wet-looking, grayish-green creatures—trolls, maybe?—were all in the mix.

  But no ogres.

  Sophie wondered if any of the Neverseen were lurking among the crowd.

  She wouldn’t put it past them.

  She reached for Grady’s hand, expecting him to head to the back of the line. But Grady led them to a side entrance, hidden among a thick vine of white star-shaped flowers.

  The goblin guarding the gate was so large he made Sandor look scrawny, and his voice was even squeakier as he told them, “There’s a space reserved for you in the clearing. Just look for the silver ropes.”

  “Thank you,” Grady said, pausing in the middle of the gateway. “Is there a path I’m not seeing?”

  “The crowd keeps closing it off,” the goblin told them. “And I suggest you move quickly.”

  Sandor saluted the guard and took the lead, ordering Sophie to stay right behind him as he pushed into the mass of bodies, creating a narrow wake for them to follow.

  Despite the suffocating crowd, the Wanderling Woods maintained its eerie, unnatural silence, swallowing the sound of their footsteps as they wove through the carefully arranged trees. Each Wanderling’s seed was wrapped with a hair from the person who’d been lost, making the tree reflect their appearance as it grew and absorbed their DNA. There were tall trees, thin trees, leaves in every color of the rainbow, trees with dark bark, or light bark, or flowers, or berries.

  Plus three small saplings that never should’ve been planted.

  They passed Alden’s Wanderling first, and Sophie was stunned at how tall the dark-leafed tree had grown in such a short time. If it weren’t for the vivid teal flowers peppered among the branches, she never would’ve guessed it was his.

  Hers and Dex’s trees looked taller too, though it was hard to tell from a distance. Their Wanderlings had been planted side by side, high on a hill, and Sophie was tempted to climb up and check on them. But Sandor moved like a bull who’d seen red, rushing past tree after tree after tree—each more ancient looking than the last—until they reached the clearing for the ceremony.

  A silver stage had been set up in the center for the Councillors, and the crowd around it was packed so tightly, Sophie could barely breathe.

  “That must be the area the guard meant,” Grady said, pointing to a pale yellow tree where a small spot of shade had been blocked off with thick silver ropes.

  Three goblins were guarding the area, and once they’d let Sandor pass, they positioned themselves to the left, right, and front of Sophie. Sandor stood behind, and his grip stayed locked around his sword, ready to unsheathe it any second.

  Sophie was tempted to tell him he was being overly paranoid. But then she noticed the crowd’s faces.

  They weren’t staring at her.

  They were glaring.

  Whispers followed—and this time they weren’t calling her the girl who was taken.

  They used the same two words over and over—the same words Sophie was fighting so hard not to think:

  Her fault.

  Sophie searched the faces, desperate to find a friend. But the closest she came was Marella—and when their eyes met, Marella looked away.

  A muffled gasp finally silenced the crowd, and Sophie craned her neck to see that the remaining eleven members of the Council had arrived in the clearing. Four goblins guarded each Councillor, cramming the small silver stage with their muscular bodies. But it still looked empty without Kenric’s bright, smiling face.

  The Councillors all wore the same pale shade of green—but instead of the simple gowns and tunics
they’d worn for Alden’s planting, their clothes were covered in emeralds and peridots, and their circlets were crusted with diamonds. Their hair was perfectly styled and their clothes were perfectly pressed. But the finery didn’t make them look any less weary and miserable. Especially Oralie.

  Her eyes were nothing more than puffy red slits, and she leaned on her goblin bodyguards like they were the only things keeping her standing.

  “We appreciate your support on this challenging day,” Councillor Emery said, his voice hoarse as he stepped forward to address the crowd, “and I know many of you have questions about what will happen next. But now is not the time to focus on such matters. We will have a brief announcement after these proceedings. Before that, we must celebrate the life and loss of our dear friend—and inspiring Councillor—Kenric Fathdon.

  Soft sniffles hissed through the air as Councillor Terik stepped off the stage and dug a small hole in the ground with a silver shovel. When the seed was completely buried, Councillor Liora poured a shimmering syrup from a green bottle on top, then cracked the glass against her palm, letting it shatter into a million shimmering specks that blanketed the freshly turned ground.

  The sniffles turned to quiet sobs as a tiny sapling sprang from the earth and sprouted vivid red leaves. But Sophie battled back her tears, knowing if she let herself fall down the rabbit hole of grief, she might never find her way back.

  “She doesn’t even look sorry,” someone near Sophie whispered.

  “Of course she isn’t. This was probably what she was created for all along.”

  “She should be exiled.”

  “Or banished.”

  “To the goblins!”

  “Or the ogres!”

  The crowd pressed closer and closer, until Sandor ordered the other goblins to evacuate. Before Sophie knew what was happening, the bodyguards lifted her over their heads and rushed her outside the woods to the normal forest that surrounded the Wanderlings.

  “We should be safer here,” Sandor told her, setting Sophie down in the shade of a tall pine tree. “I’ll bring you back in after the receiving line has finished, so you can hear the Council’s announcement.”