Nightfall

by Shannon Messenger

  “And I made him bring me to Prentice to see this mark for myself,” Bronte told her. “Even now, I still find it hard to believe that such an insignificant glowing speck on his palm could have harmed him so thoroughly.”

  “It looked like he was exposed to the same amount as I was,” Lady Cadence said quietly. “Believe me, it’s more than enough—especially with a broken mind amplifying the reaction.”

  “Why do you think I voted to allow more ogres into the Lost Cities?” Bronte told her. “I’m counting on you and your team to find a remedy to this substance, before the Neverseen unleash whatever they’re planning.”

  “I still wonder if shadowvapor manipulation could draw Alvar from his trance,” Physic jumped in. “If you’re willing, Tam, I’d love to test a few theories out.”

  “Whatever you need,” Tam promised.

  “How did Wylie take this news?” Linh asked. “Did anyone explain what soporidine is?”

  “I did,” Lady Cadence told her. “I answered all of his questions.”

  “And I made it clear that the Council had nothing to do with his father’s exposure,” Bronte added.

  Sophie couldn’t make herself believe him.

  You’re sure the Councillors weren’t involved? she transmitted to Mr. Forkle.

  Yes, Miss Foster, he transmitted back. I am. I bent the rules of telepathy a bit during my interrogations and combed through all of their minds much more carefully than they realized. And I was able to dredge up each of their memories of that day—and none of them gave me any reason to doubt their integrity.

  “So who drugged Prentice, then?” Sophie asked out loud.

  Bronte turned to stare into the pastures, watching the argentavis fly loops around his aviary. “Most likely it was one of the dwarves working in Exile. We’ve known for a while now that some of their species have joined forces with the Neverseen. And Terik said he had several dwarves helping him retrieve Prentice from his cell and administer the sedatives. Any of them would’ve had ample opportunity to apply the soporidine to Prentice’s palm without anyone noticing.”

  “Councillor Emery already went through the guard records.” Mr. Forkle added. “Two different dwarves transferred into Exile not long before Prentice’s scheduled departure, and have since resigned. We gave their names to King Enki, and he has confirmed that they’re missing from the dwarven world. Oralie will be heading to Exile today to interview the current guards and see if any of them noticed anything that day—or could be traitors as well.”

  “I can’t imagine the Neverseen would keep traitors there full-time,” Bronte insisted. “It seems much more likely that they were brought in specifically for Prentice.”

  “But why?” Tam asked. “Why go to so much trouble to drug someone who already had a broken mind?”

  “Probably because they knew we were getting ready to heal him,” Physic told him, “and they didn’t want us to find out what made him call swan song.”

  “I thought he called swan song because he knew he was about to be arrested,” Dex reminded them.

  Alden flinched, and Della pulled him close again.

  “We once thought the same,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “But as I’m sure you recall, Prentice knew about the Lodestar symbol. And he dredged up the final pieces of it when Miss Foster transmitted the words ‘swan song.’ Combine that with the tremendous efforts the Neverseen took to keep him shattered, and it seems fairly telling.”

  “Okay, but here’s what I don’t understand,” Tam said. “It’s actually been bugging me since Prentice showed us the symbol, but I didn’t say anything because I figured I was new to the group, so I’d probably missed something. But . . . if Prentice knew the symbol was super important—which it seems like he did because of the swan song connection—why didn’t he tell anyone about it before his mind was broken? Even if he was trying to protect the Black Swan’s secrets, he knew the Lodestar symbol had nothing to do with you guys. So, why didn’t he say, ‘Uh, here’s this big thing you need to look into since I won’t be able to’? Wouldn’t you have investigated the symbol if he’d shown it to you?” he asked Alden.

  “Of course.” Alden’s voice sounded hoarse as he turned to Physic. “But it wouldn’t have spared Prentice any of this pain. In fact, it only would’ve served as further proof that the memory break was necessary.”

  “Okay,” Tam said, “but since Prentice knew the break was inevitable, wouldn’t he at least pass along anything important while he still could, to make sure the secret didn’t get buried after his mind was broken?”

  “That does sound like Prentice,” Granite murmured.

  “And he didn’t say anything to Quinlin during their private meeting, did he?” Alden asked Physic.

  She shrugged. “I’m sure if he had, Quinlin would’ve investigated.”

  “So . . . you guys think it’s weird too, then?” Tam confirmed.

  Sophie definitely did, now that he’d mentioned it.

  And no one had a good explanation.

  “Well,” Physic said, clearing her throat. “This makes our good news even more significant. Soon enough, we’ll be able to ask Prentice these questions ourselves.”

  Sophie was on her feet without thinking. “Does that mean . . . ?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Forkle said when she couldn’t finish the question, in case she was getting her hopes up for nothing. “Now that we finally understand why Prentice took such a drastic downturn and know we can prevent it from happening again, we’re ready to try having you heal him.”

  Fifty-four

  NOW?” SOPHIE ASKED, no longer caring that she was in her robe. If the Black Swan was ready for the healing, she’d head straight to Prentice, morning breath and all.

  “I thought that might be your reaction,” Mr. Forkle said, a smile tugging at his lips. “But unfortunately we aren’t planning anything that immediate. Prentice still has a tremendous amount of heartbreaking news to wake up to, and—”

  “He’s always going to have that,” Sophie interrupted.

  “He will,” Granite agreed. “But I think I’ve come up with a way of easing him through the process. The last time you were in Prentice’s mind, weren’t you able to communicate with him?”

  “Sorta.” Sophie had actually spoken with a mental projection of Jolie, because Prentice told her he didn’t know how to be himself anymore.

  “Well, he’s much more stable than he was before,” Mr. Forkle told her. “So hopefully that will make it even easier for you to communicate. We think it’s best if you explain the tragedies that have happened before you draw what’s left of his consciousness back from whatever safe space he’s tucked the shreds away. If he can handle it in there, he’ll likely be able to face it once he’s back in reality. And if he struggles, he won’t shatter as hard as he would if he’d been healed completely.”

  It wasn’t a horrible plan—though Sophie wasn’t thrilled that she’d get to be the bearer of all the bad news.

  I’ll be right there with you, Fitz promised. I know I can’t go into a broken mind, but I can boost you like I did last time.

  He reached for her hand, and Sophie held on tight—until she caught Dex staring at their twined fingers.

  She pulled back the same second Dex turned away, and Sophie decided not to look at either boy as she took a deep breath and said, “If that’s how you want me to do it, I will.”

  “Excellent. But we’re still not heading there now,” Mr. Forkle warned. “And no, I’m not saying that because I’m trying to stall. You’re forgetting that Lady Gisela still hasn’t told you what she knows about Cyrah’s death. And it’s crucial that we give him all the bad news.”

  “Then give me the Imparter,” Sophie said, holding out her hand. She had no idea how she’d force Lady Gisela to make good on her deal, but she wasn’t going to drag this out any longer—not when they were so close to finally making everything right.

  “Another reaction I assumed you might have,” Mr. Forkle said. “Which is
why I’ve returned the Imparter to Sandor under the instruction to hand it over to you once you’ve taken time to think through what you’re going to say—and perhaps also look less like someone freshly woken from nightmares. The more desperate you seem, the more grandiose Lady Gisela’s demands will be.”

  Sophie felt like a deflating soufflé as she sank back to the couch.

  “We’ll figure out a plan,” Biana assured her. “If we all work on it together, I bet it’ll take us a few hours—tops.”

  “But it’s okay if you need longer than that,” Physic added quietly. “One or two more days isn’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things. And I think it’s much more important for you to talk to your sister. She’s already tried hailing you twice this morning to check on you.”

  Something seemed to crack in Sophie’s chest, unleashing a flood of cold, black dread. “Have you told her anything yet?”

  “Only that you’re safe and resting and will talk to her soon. I figured it would be better if she heard the harder things from you. She’s stronger than you think,” Physic promised. “She’ll take the news hard. But I know she can handle it. And I’ll make sure she knows she’s welcome to stay as long as she needs. She’s actually starting to like it here. I taught her how to make ripplefluffs and she’s been inventing all kinds of crazy flavor combinations.”

  Sophie couldn’t smile.

  She could barely think.

  Which was probably why it took her much too long to realize Physic’s mistake.

  Bronte was still in the room, listening to every word they were saying.

  And Physic had just revealed that her sister was illegally in the Lost Cities.

  Fifty-five

  IT’S ALL RIGHT,” someone told her.

  Sophie couldn’t figure out who.

  White-hot panic had clouded out everything but the searing tightness in her chest and the throbbing pulse in her ears.

  “Breathe,” the same voice commanded.

  When she didn’t respond, a prickle of cold scraped across her mind, as if something dark was crawling along her impenetrable mental shield.

  Her eyes snapped into focus and she found Bronte crouched in front of her, his hands clutching her shoulders.

  “Thought that might get your attention,” he said without any hint of a smile.

  “Please,” she gasped. “Please—you can’t—”

  “Technically, I can do whatever the Council wills,” he interrupted, rising from his crouch.

  The dark jewels in his circlet glinted as he loomed over her.

  “Fortunately,” he added, dragging out the word for emphasis, “in this case, the Council’s will is in harmony with yours. We have no desire to see any harm come to your sister—and it’s a shame that you’d so easily assume we would. Oh, and for the record, I already knew she was here in the Lost Cities.”

  “You did?” Sophie asked.

  “I told the whole Council this morning,” Grady admitted. “I wanted them to understand why finding your parents needed to remain just as high of a priority as developing a cure for the soporidine. But I didn’t tell them where she’s staying, so there’s no way they can get near her.”

  Bronte shook his head. “Even if you had told us where to find her, we have no plans to interfere with whatever the Black Swan has arranged. We would never abandon a child in need of our assistance.”

  Sophie had to clamp her lips shut to stop herself from reminding him how many times he’d threatened to do exactly that to her after she’d first been brought to the elvin world—or how the Council had no problem banishing Tam and Linh.

  “You have my word,” Bronte assured her, “that no harm will come to your sister as long as she’s in the Lost Cities—and that she can stay as long as she needs. The Council already voted—and the decision was unanimous. I only ask one thing.”

  “You never said there were conditions,” Grady argued.

  “This is a request,” Bronte corrected. “A personal one, I might add—which I very much hope you’ll be willing to grant, Miss Foster.”

  The hairs on Sophie’s neck bristled as she waited to hear what he’d ask—but she still wasn’t prepared for him to say, “I’d like to meet her.”

  “My sister,” Sophie clarified.

  He nodded. “Today, if at all possible.”

  “Why?”

  The question seemed to come from everyone in the room at once, with varying degrees of suspicion.

  Bronte rolled his eyes at all of them. “Are you really surprised that I’m curious? This young girl is the first human to experience any part of our world for many millennia. Can you blame me for wanting to know what she thinks of it?”

  “But she hasn’t seen much,” Sophie told him. “Only the place she’s staying.”

  “Exactly why I’m hoping you’ll bring her here this afternoon. I’m assuming you wouldn’t want to take me to wherever you’ve tucked her away. Besides . . . to witness her reaction to this place—to both the estate and the creatures. Even to these.”

  He flicked the ends of his ears with an uncharacteristically wide smile, and Sophie tried to understand how he could be the same elf who’d scowled at her with the rage of a thousand suns when Fitz first brought her to Everglen and she’d gaped at the same pointed protrusions.

  “I assure you, I have no ulterior motive,” Bronte promised, turning back to the wall of windows. “I’m just an old fool longing for the past.”

  Sophie glanced at her friends, glad to see shock in their expressions, as if they were all thinking, Who is this stranger and what has he done with Councillor Bronte?

  “You forget that Atlantis was not built as an obligation,” he said when he noticed their gawking. “It was a dream. A future where these human creatures that looked so much like us—and yet lived such very different lives—might inspire us as much as we could inspire them. It was all for nothing, of course. Their greed destroyed everything. But forgive me for craving this small glimpse of what could’ve been.”

  “And you really think today is a wise day for such nostalgia?” Mr. Forkle asked.

  “Why not?” Bronte countered. “You can’t help Cadence or her team of ogres with their soporidine research. And it seems like an excellent way to ease your sister into the difficult conversations you still need to have. Bring her here, give her this glorious glimpse of our world, and then break the harder news she’ll be forced to live with. Once she’s seen more of the majesty of the Lost Cities, she may feel more ready to put her trust in us as a species.”

  “Even though all those memories will have to be erased?” Sophie had to ask, her voice wobbling on the last word.

  Now that it was going to take them even longer to save her parents from whatever they were enduring, she couldn’t imagine their minds wouldn’t have to be reset.

  And so would Amy’s.

  “Is a day any less worth living simply because you’re not going to remember it?” Bronte asked. “The joy she’ll feel will still be real in the moment. Why not let her experience it?”

  It definitely wasn’t a horrible idea. Except . . .

  “Is it too dangerous to leap her here?” Sophie asked. “Especially since she’s coming from . . .”

  She stopped herself in the nick of time.

  Bronte smirked. “I love how you think I don’t know that she’s staying somewhere in Atlantis. And relax. How many times do you need me to assure you that the girl is safe?”

  Alden cleared his throat. “It’s . . . unlike you.”

  “Or perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” Bronte countered, before turning back to Sophie. “And to answer your concern, leaping her here should be no problem, so long as the person who brings her is prepared to shield her with their concentration. I’m assuming she’s with Quinlin Sondon? His mental skills are excellent. And if she wears elvin clothes for the journey through the city, no one will suspect her.”

  Sophie had no idea how he’d pieced so many details
together, but clearly she’d been underestimating the strict Councillor.

  “I suppose I can get rid of this too, then,” Physic said, untying her mask and pulling it away to reveal her face.

  Bronte’s eyebrows arched. “Actually, Livvy, I hadn’t made the connection. You and Quinlin have always been so . . . separate. I assume he knows?”

  “As of a few days ago,” she agreed.

  He opened his mouth to ask her something, then closed it and turned to the members of the Collective. “Any of you prepared to dispense with the disguises?”

  “Not quite yet,” Mr. Forkle told him. “But perhaps someday. Should the Council continue to make the right decisions.”

  A bit of the infamous Bronte scowl returned, but he said nothing as he returned his focus to Sophie. “I believe we’ve gotten sidetracked. We were waiting for you to decide whether your sister will be paying us a visit.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Edaline said when Sophie hesitated, “I’d love to meet her.”

  The fragile hope in Edaline’s voice settled it for Sophie, as did the happy crinkles around Grady’s eyes when she nodded.

  She couldn’t pass up this unexpected chance to introduce her sister to her new family and give her a glimpse of her new life.

  “Just give me a few minutes to change,” she told Physic. “Then tell Quinlin to bring her.”

  Fifty-six

  WHOA.”

  It seemed to be the only word Amy could think to say—not that Sophie blamed her. She still remembered the wonder she’d felt the first day Alden brought her to Havenfield—and at that point, she’d already seen Everglen to help prepare her for the beauty of elvin homes.

  The light leap with Quinlin had brought on the first “whoa,” which wasn’t surprising, since Amy had been unconscious when Alden took her to Atlantis. The house itself earned another, probably because it was almost a castle by human standards. And each part of the tour continued to elicit them, from seeing Fitz again to meeting Dex, Biana, Tam, and Linh—which had earned a jaw drop along with the “whoa.” To the bizarre disguises of the Collective. To watching the squat brown-and-green gnomes tending to Calla’s Panakes tree. To the incredible spread Edaline conjured up with a snap of her fingers, composed of every delicious baked good the Lost Cities had to offer.