She wrapped her arms around him, resting her hands on his wrists as he pretended to hold a stellarscope.
“I think your hands were a little higher,” he told her, “resting on top of mine.”
She willed her palms not to sweat as she slid them into place.
“I think that’s it,” Fitz whispered.
“Yeah. Me too.”
She could practically hear the crashing waves and see the twinkling stars. Their last safe moment, before everything went up in smoke.
“So . . . now what?” she asked.
“I think you have to open your mind to mine.”
“Right.” She took a deep breath and stretched out her consciousness, letting Fitz’s thoughts fill her head.
It’s so crazy how you do that, he thought. I always try to block you—just to see if I can. But I swear you slip through faster every time.
Sorry, Sophie transmitted.
Stop apologizing! You have an amazing talent, Sophie. I’d give anything to be like you.
And I’d give anything to be normal, like you.
And that is why we trust each other.
Was it?
Could it really be that simple?
Want to try implanting something, to see if you remember how? Fitz asked. Make sure you pick something I wouldn’t already have a memory of, so we can tell.
Right.
But she knew she had to do better than that.
If this was about trust, she needed to tell him something she hadn’t told anyone else.
You ready? she asked, trying to remember what she’d done that night. She knew she’d mixed brain push energy along with the transmission to make it stronger, so she focused on the warmth buzzing in the back of her mind, letting the tingling heat mix with her concentration before she pushed the memory into Fitz’s head.
“Whoa,” Fitz breathed. “I think that worked.”
He scrambled for his memory log and flipped to a blank page, projecting the memory Sophie had just sent him in vivid, photographic detail.
“What is this?” Fitz asked, frowning at the scene.
A blond woman in a purple gown stood holding a black swan.
Sophie swallowed to find her voice. “It’s a memory I saw in Prentice’s mind—or maybe ‘vision’ is the better word. I’m not sure. All I know is . . . that’s Jolie.”
Fitz’s eyes widened at the name, and he pointed to the swan she was holding. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“That’s what Biana and I have been trying to figure out. I haven’t told Grady and Edaline. The only other person I’ve told is Tiergan, and it was back when he thought a broken mind could never be healed, so he said it was all just random madness.”
“Are you sure it’s not?”
She showed him the mirrored compact, letting him trace his fingers over the constellation on the cover. She even told him about Vertina and the missing password. But if she was really going to trust him, there was one more thing she had to share.
“You know what else this means, right?” she whispered, trying to work up the courage. “Or what it could mean, anyway.”
Fitz shook his head, taking his eyes off the memory log to study her.
She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. “It could mean Jolie is my mother.”
The words seemed to vanish as soon as they left her lips, and Sophie wondered if Fitz had even heard them.
Then he took her hand, squeezing it tight. “I get why that would be scary.”
“Do you?” Sophie asked. “Sometimes I’m not even sure how to explain it.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it would be super weird to find out your parents are actually your grandparents.”
“That’s part of it,” Sophie whispered. “But also . . . I don’t know.”
“What?”
She picked up Mr. Snuggles again, squeezing tight as she told him, “It’s hard enough knowing that I remind Grady and Edaline of her. If they knew I was her daughter . . .”
“You’d worry that’s the only reason they want you,” Fitz finished for her.
Sophie nodded, burying her face in Mr. Snuggles’s soft fur.
“If it helps, I don’t think that’s the case. They seem like they really care about you.”
“I know. But it would still change everything.”
“It probably would,” he admitted. “Wait—would that mean you’re related to Dex, too?”
Sophie nodded, still not sure why that bothered her.
She’d hoped Fitz might be able to explain it, but all he said was, “Wow.”
Then he totally cracked up. “Dex is going to freak if that’s true,” he said between laughs.
“If what’s true?” a painfully familiar voice asked from the doorway.
Fitz fell silent and Sophie forced herself to turn toward the sound.
Just as she’d feared, she found a red-faced, fuming Dex.
FORTY-SEVEN
IF WHAT’S TRUE?” DEX REPEATED, “And if you tell me it’s ‘nothing,’ I swear I’m going to slip an honesty elixir in your next bottle of lushberry juice.”
“You don’t even make those,” Sophie argued, hoping it was true.
“I can figure out how,” he promised.
Sophie glared at Sandor, wondering what the point was of having a goblin constantly eavesdropping outside her door if he couldn’t give her a heads-up about surprise visitors. He shrugged innocently—but the glint in his eye told her he’d kept silent on purpose. Probably his punishment for the trouble she’d caused with King Dimitar.
“Seriously, what were you guys talking about?” Dex asked. “I’m not going to ‘freak out.’”
“It was just a joke, okay?” Fitz told him, looking like he wished he could leap out of there.
“What kind of joke?” Dex pressed. “And what is that?”
Sophie shoved Mr. Snuggles behind her back. “Just something Fitz brought to cheer me up.”
“How nice of him.”
“It was, actually,” Sophie said—a little sharper than she meant to.
She’d been trying not to let it bother her, but . . . she’d been through a fire, a funeral, and almost been kidnapped by an ogre king, and Dex hadn’t even hailed her on her Imparter to make sure she was okay.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come by sooner,” Dex mumbled, like he knew what she’d been thinking. “I’ve been stuck working on an assignment from the Council.”
“Really?” Fitz asked, the same time Sophie asked, “What assignment?”
“I’m not allowed to talk about it. But you don’t have to worry, it’s totally safe. I’m just testing some gadgets to see if I can improve them. Oh—and get this. I showed Councillor Terik my telepathy enhancer and he thought it had great potential.”
“Seriously?” Fitz asked. “He actually thinks you can enhance someone’s abilities?”
“No,” Dex admitted. “But he thinks I might be able restrict someone’s ability instead. I haven’t had time to tweak it yet because they needed me to finish the other weap—um, gadgets, first. But I think I know what I need to do to make that change.”
“Why would the Council want to restrict someone’s abilities?” Fitz asked, clearly disgusted by the idea.
Sophie was more bothered by Dex’s little slip.
Were the Councillors making weapons?
“Uh, because some people shouldn’t be allowed to have abilities,” Dex argued.
“Allowed,” Fitz repeated.
“Yeah. Allowed. Think about it. Restricting Fintan’s ability would’ve saved Councillor Kenric’s life. And his own life. And all of Eternalia.”
“But . . . ,” Sophie started, then realized she had nothing to say.
The Councillors had done everything they could to keep the healing safe. But they could only control the temperature, their clothes, how many people were in the room. They couldn’t control Fintan.
“Okay, but . . . controlling people with gadgets?” Fitz asked. �
��That’s creepy.”
He turned to Sophie, like he was expecting her to agree. But she was too stuck on the idea that the whole fire could’ve been prevented with a simple silver circlet.
“They wouldn’t be controlling everyone,” Dex argued. “Just the people who need it.”
“And who decides that?” Fitz asked.
“The Council, obviously. What?” Dex asked when Fitz cringed. “I thought your family was like, the Council’s number one fan club.”
“You clearly know nothing about my family. But I’m not saying I don’t trust the Council. I’m saying I don’t think it’s right to mess with people’s brains.”
“Ha—this coming from a Telepath!”
“Telepaths have rules and restrictions to follow to make sure we don’t abuse our abilities. Sounds like Technopaths need the same.”
“Um, the Council is the one asking me to make that gadget, remember?”
“Yeah. That’s what worries me. I think I’m going to go home and see if my dad knows about this. Want to meet up tomorrow to try again?” Fitz asked Sophie as he packed away his memory log.
She nodded, still struggling to process the information overload from the last few minutes.
Fitz gave one quick longing look to Mr. Snuggles as he pulled out his home crystal. Then he left him behind and stepped into the light.
“So what was the ‘joke’ I’m apparently going to freak out about?” Dex asked the second Fitz glittered away.
Sophie sighed and set Mr. Snuggles on her bed. “It was nothing, Dex. Really, honestly, nothing.”
“You’re seriously not going to tell me?”
“Not right now, okay? It’s not important, and maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m having kind of a bad week.”
Her voice caught on the last words.
“You’re right,” Dex said, moving closer. “I just . . . No—no excuses. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled, wiping her nose.
He reached for her hand, then stopped halfway there, leaving his fingers dangling. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you. I begged my dad to let me help with the Everblaze—mostly so I could make sure you were okay. But he said I wasn’t experienced enough to handle quintessence. So I stayed up all night, watching my panic switch in case you called me. I even kept my shoes on so I wouldn’t have anything to slow me down. But you never called.”
“I’m not going to drag you into danger, Dex.”
“But I want you to. That’s why I made you that ring. And I’m sorry I let the Council’s assignment keep me from checking on you. I should’ve made time—though I also wasn’t at the planting, so I didn’t know about King Dimitar until today. That’s why I rushed over.”
“Why weren’t you at the planting?”
“Councillor Terik needed all the gadgets back by this morning, so he could pass them on to the next Technopath—and they needed a ton of work.”
“You can stop calling them gadgets, Dex. I know they’re weapons.”
He hesitated before he said, “Not all of them. Besides, don’t you think it’s good that the Council is realizing they need to be prepared? My dad said that if they’d had a batch of frissyn on hand, most of Eternalia would still be standing.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
But if the elves needed weapons . . .
She sat on the edge of her bed and Dex sat beside her—not so subtly knocking Mr. Snuggles to the floor in the process.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You look . . . pretty awful.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, I just mean . . . you can talk to me, you know. Maybe I can help?”
Sophie wished he could. But unless he knew how to find a random window in Italy . . .
“Wait,” she said, rushing to her desk and digging through the drawers.
If she wanted to learn about anything human, she was going to need to access human information.
She pulled out her old iPod and switched it on, showing Dex how it said Searching on the screen. “I know this is probably going to sound weird, but do you think there’s any way you could make this pick up human signals from where we are?”
He’d already made it solar powered a few months back. Maybe he could use his ability to amplify the antenna or something.
Dex traced his fingers along the screen. “What kind of signals?”
“Anything. Satellite. Wi-Fi. I just need to access the Internet. Remember how I used it to find the bridge we needed when we were in Paris?”
“Yeah, and I still can’t believe that clunky machine was able to help us. But”—he flipped the iPod over and squinted at the back—“I can sense a receiver in here, and it’s super weak. I’m sure if I boost that it’ll pick up whatever you want. It might take me a few days, though. Councillor Terik wanted that ability restrictor as soon as possible.”
“A few days is fine,” she told him—though she hoped it would be sooner.
And that there was a FamousRoundWindowsInItaly.com, complete with detailed directions.
But even if there wasn’t, she was going to find that building.
After Dex left, Sophie spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make a dent in the other half of her punishment: cleaning and organizing Edaline’s office.
She was up to her elbows in tiny silver butterflies when someone behind her snapped their fingers, making all the shimmering insects spring to life and fly around her.
“Whoa, too bad those aren’t spiders or stinkbugs or something,” Keefe said from the doorway. “I could cause some serious chaos.”
“I’m sure you could,” Sophie agreed, watching the butterflies flit and flutter. “It really would’ve been a beautiful wedding, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Keefe agreed. “But robotic spiders would’ve been cooler. They could’ve put them under everyone’s chairs and triggered them during the vows.”
“Wow—you should be a wedding planner.”
“Nah. I’ll save it for my own wedding. Make my bride feel even luckier.” He winked.
“So what’s up?” Sophie asked, before the conversation got any weirder.
“You don’t know why I’m here?”
“Should I?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you get one of these?”
He stumbled through the maze of boxes and handed her a tiny scroll.
The wax seal had been broken—split in half from when Keefe must’ve opened it.
But Sophie could still perfectly make out the sign of the swan.
FORTY-EIGHT
WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?” SOPHIE asked, not sure if she should feel excited or terrified. Mostly she felt confused.
Especially when Keefe told her. “I found it in my cape pocket this morning—no idea how it got there. You didn’t get one?”
She checked her pockets to make sure, surprised at how disappointed she was when they were empty. She felt even worse when she read the Black Swan’s message:
Careful plans have now been changed
So a meeting must be arranged.
In three days time, when the evening star ascends
Find us where the lost have no end.
“They want to meet with you,” Sophie mumbled, reading the message again to be sure.
“I know—they’re finally including me on the team! Hope they know this means their little rule book just went out the window—and the first change I’ll be implementing is clearer stinking directions. Any idea ‘where the lost have no end’?”
“Probably in the Wanderling Woods, by my tree. They’ve left me notes there before.”
“And the evening star ascends . . . ?”
“Right after sunset,” Sophie finished.
“Cool. Party with the Black Swan in three days. Bring your dancing shoes, Foster. And maybe try to look a little less miserable than you do right now, because it’s a serious bummer. Come on, this is good news!”
“Is it?” she asked. “How do you know it’s not a trap?
”
“I don’t,” Keefe admitted. “But even if it is, remember: Last time we met with them you got your abilities fixed and that Forkle dude gave you some answers.”
“And then we almost died,” she reminded him.
“Details, details.” He laughed when she didn’t smile. “I’m kidding, Foster. I do realize it’s a risk. But I think it’s worth it—especially since they want us to meet in the Wanderling Woods. I mean, how bad could that be?”
“Well, for one thing, they only gave a note to you. Not me. Don’t you find that suspicious?”
“That is weird,” Keefe admitted. “When was the last time you checked the cave?”
“Not since we realized they had a leak.”
“Then maybe there’s a note there waiting for you. That would make sense, if you think about it. Sandor’s got so many security things around here, the cave is probably the closest they can get.”
“Maybe . . .”
“Gee, try to sound less excited. Actually, never mind. Get your shoes on—we’re going to the cave. And get ready for an epic ‘I told you so’ when we find your note waiting.”
Keefe kept true to his word, and his “I told you so” was so loud, it was still echoing around them as Sophie unrolled the tiny scroll. Her note showed the same instructions—but it also included an extra verse:
The days ahead will be dark and dour.
You must not fear yourself or your power.
“Not cool—I didn’t get a present with mine,” Keefe complained as he unhooked a familiar black magsidian swan charm from where it had been latched through the paper.
Magsidian was a rare mineral only the dwarves could mine, and it had the ability to affect certain forces, depending on how it had been cut. The last time they’d used the charm, it had steered the needle of Sophie’s compass toward the Black Swan’s hideout.
She had no idea what they’d need it for this time—but that was the least of her worries at the moment.
“Do you really think we should trust them?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder like she expected a fleet of dwarves to pop out of the sand.
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