Nightfall

by Shannon Messenger

  Bronte snorted. “Sorry, these are the only two left on the planet, so they’re not up for grabs. Even with a third one on the way.”

  Amy pouted. “Fine. I’ll just have to visit them all the time, then.”

  “You will,” Sophie said, wondering if her sister could hear the lie in her tone.

  If she did, Amy didn’t call her on it—and Sophie avoided Bronte’s gaze as she turned back to Silveny, patting her side to thank her.

  She realized then how heavily the pregnant alicorn was breathing. Was all of that flying too much for you and the baby?

  NO! Silveny promised. FUN! FUN! FUN!

  But the transmission sounded strained. And Silveny’s eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

  Maybe Edaline should check on you before you leave, Sophie suggested.

  Silveny trotted backward. NO! NO! NO!

  Why not? You like Edaline.

  NO! NO! NO!

  Don’t you want to make sure you and the baby are okay?

  SAFE! Silveny insisted. SAFE! SAFE! SAFE!

  Sophie sighed. You know you’re going to have to let people check on you, right?

  LATER! Silveny told her, launching off the ground.

  “Everything okay?” Bronte asked as Greyfell followed Silveny into the sky, both alicorns circling higher and higher.

  The last thing Sophie wanted to do was worry the Council—especially since they could decide to take away Silveny and Greyfell’s freedom.

  “Everything’s great,” she told him, while transmitting to Silveny, LATER better be SOON.

  Neither alicorn agreed before they teleported away.

  “Huh,” Amy said. “They left without the treats you owed them.”

  Bronte frowned. “They did, indeed.”

  “So did you have fun?” Sophie asked her sister, eager for a subject change.

  “Uh, yeah—today has seriously been the best. Day. Ever!”

  “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it,” Bronte told her.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect,” he said, his eyes shifting to the stars. “Letting you experience our world so fully, as if there were no divide between our species . . . part of me had wondered if your mind could truly process it all. And I can’t decide if this means any human could, or if you’re simply special. Either way . . . there was such joy today. It seems we truly are missing out, keeping ourselves separate.”

  “You can change that, can’t you?” Amy told him, gesturing to his jeweled circlet.

  “If only it were that simple.” His smile looked equally wistful and sad as he squeezed Amy’s shoulder and told her he hoped they’d meet again, then raised a pathfinder and leaped away.

  “I guess that means it’s time for me to head back to Atlantis,” Amy mumbled when she noticed Quinlin crossing the pastures toward her.

  “Will you be okay?” Sophie asked.

  Amy’s voice sounded a little thick, but Sophie still believed her when she said, “Yeah.”

  “What about you?” Amy asked.

  Sophie reached for her eyelashes—then stopped herself. “I’ll be fine.”

  “And you’ll keep me updated?” Amy pressed.

  “As much as I can.”

  Amy nodded.

  There was so much more they both could—should—say. But they chose to save it for later. Just like they both avoided saying goodbye, as if they were afraid the word would be too permanent.

  But before Amy stepped into the light, she told Sophie, “Thank you. For today. And for all the scary things you’ve been doing. I don’t know how it’s all going to work out, but . . . I’ll be fighting for the happy ending too.”

  Fifty-eight

  THE NEXT FEW days managed to be both busy and uneventful as everyone scrambled to regroup after the revelations from Nightfall.

  Grady worked with the Collective, trying to figure out what the Neverseen might be planning, and where they’d moved Sophie’s parents.

  Tam worked with Livvy, testing her shadowvapor theories on Alvar.

  Dex worked with Bronte, trying to access the secrets in Fintan’s cache—or Sophie assumed he did. Dex still seemed to be avoiding her.

  Fitz worked with Alden, trying to meet with the remaining guards from Lumenaria to see if they knew anything about the escaped prisoner.

  Lady Cadence worked with her team of ogres on the soporidine antidote.

  Linh worked with Marella, learning to control their abilities.

  And Sophie and Biana tried to work with Sandor, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t convince him to give them the Imparter so they could hail Lady Gisela about what happened to Cyrah. He kept insisting that they weren’t ready and needed a stronger plan.

  Sophie didn’t think she could get any more frustrated—and then Mr. Forkle reminded her that Foxfire resumed session on Monday, and that everyone was expected to attend. Even Tam and Linh had agreed to switch to the prestigious academy.

  Others in our order will remain on top of all of your projects, he’d assured her, and I’ll call you to my office if there’s ever anything important going on while you’re in your sessions.

  Somehow that didn’t feel like enough.

  Then again, none of it felt like enough.

  Probably because none of it was helping.

  Every update was always a long stream of failures and dead ends. And no matter how many times Sophie tried to remind herself that this was part of the process—that they always hit these kinds of walls in their investigations—she couldn’t help feeling like this time was worse.

  “How are you holding up?” Fitz asked when he found her gathering fallen blossoms under Calla’s Panakes tree during an especially vivid sunset. He’d been coming by every evening to check on her, even though her mood was getting sulkier and sulkier.

  She shrugged and he plopped down on the grass beside her, setting a small box tied with teal ribbon in her lap before leaning against the wide trunk.

  “You don’t have to keep bringing me gifts,” she told him. “Or putting up with me when I’m super grumpy.”

  “I know.” His smile chipped away some of the edge of her bad mood. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Warmth tingled her cheeks as she untied the ribbon and found . . .

  “Custard bursts?”

  “That’s what they’re supposed to be—but I’m not sure if I pulled it off,” Fitz admitted. “Who knew they were so hard to bake?”

  The puffed squares definitely were more lopsided than the batches Edaline made—but somehow that made the gesture even sweeter.

  And they still tasted amazing.

  “Is this caramel?”

  Fitz nodded. “My mom had me add a little bit of salt. She said that brings out the sweetness.”

  “It does.” She shoved the rest into her mouth and tried to wipe the bit that dribbled down her chin.

  “You missed a spot,” Fitz said, reaching out to brush the corner of her mouth.

  His fingers didn’t touch her lips, but they were so close her face turned nuclear—especially since her mind kept drifting back to the last time they’d been alone together under the Panakes tree. The moment that had almost felt like a moment, but had probably been a whole lot of nothing.

  “You’re not sleeping, are you?” Fitz asked, and it took her a second to follow the rapid topic change.

  “I’m sleeping enough.”

  “Liar.” He pointed to the shadows under her eyes. “Nightmares or tossing and turning?”

  She sighed. “Both.”

  “That’s what I thought. And that’s why I’m here. I think you need something to distract you from everything you’re worrying about, so you can actually relax tonight.”

  “Okaaaaaay,” she said, not sure where he was going with this, but her heart had shifted to a fast, fluttery rhythm.

  It shifted again when he said, “So how about we finally settle that favor you owe me?”


  Red Alert sirens went off in her mind.

  He laughed. “Don’t panic. I’ve decided to go super easy on you. All I want is something you’ll have to tell me anyway, the next time we do Cognate training.”

  “That doesn’t actually sound easy.” Her palms were sweating, and she leaned back, knowing she was going to need space for whatever was coming.

  “Wow, could you look any more terrified?” Fitz asked. “I promise, it’s nothing bad. I just want to know what happened with you and Dex.”

  “Oh.”

  Somehow that was both better and worse than what she’d been expecting.

  She turned away, fussing with the ends of the teal ribbon. “He asked me not to tell anyone.”

  “Okay, but you already told Biana,” he argued.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well . . . I didn’t tell her. She saw something and figured it out.”

  “Then show me what she saw.”

  No way was that happening.

  “You know, technically you’re not supposed to be able to say no,” he reminded her. “It’s my favor. You owe me.”

  “I know, but what you’re asking for isn’t really my secret, you know?” she countered.

  Fitz tilted his head, considering that. “Okay, fine, new favor—and no cheating your way out of this one.”

  He waited for her reluctant nod before he said, “I want to know if you’re really thinking about not registering for the match.”

  Aaaaaaaaaaaand, now her whole body was sweating.

  “Did Biana tell you that?”

  “Don’t get mad—I sorta tricked it out of her when I was trying to find out what happened with you and Dex.”

  It felt like there was probably some sort of clue tucked into that sentence, but Sophie’s brain was too overloaded to process it—especially with the way he was staring at her.

  So she gave him the truth. “I’m still deciding.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Is that bad?”

  She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but it somehow shoved its way out of her mouth.

  “Not bad,” Fitz said carefully. “I do actually get why you might be intimidated by the whole process.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “I know—it’s not a perfect system. I really do see how unfair it can be now.”

  “But?” she prompted, wondering why she was pushing him. This was such dangerous territory.

  “But,” Fitz said, sweeping his hair off his forehead, “aren’t you curious to see who would be on your lists? Even if you decide later not to follow them?”

  “Yes.”

  She hadn’t meant to say that.

  But it was true.

  She was curious.

  Also terrified.

  And it would always feel wrong.

  It was all so miserably complicated.

  “Well,” Fitz said, “you still have some time to think about it. I was just curious. And see? Favor settled. Was that as scary as you thought?”

  It actually wasn’t.

  And somehow that was . . . disappointing.

  Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that, so Sophie became very interested in gathering more blossoms, arranging them into a neat ring on the grass.

  “For what it’s worth,” Fitz whispered, “I’ll be hoping you decide to register.”

  It was hard to tell in the fading light, but she almost swore he was blushing. And with that, she pretty much melted into a pile of goo—which was stupid.

  He could be worried about her facing the scorn of a bad match.

  Or he could be trying to protect her.

  Or—

  He took her hand, tracing his finger over the bump of her cognate ring under her glove. “Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

  Words.

  She needed words.

  She still hadn’t found any when a painfully loud throat-clearing had her yanking her hand free and scooting back, ready to shout, We were just talking!

  But it wasn’t Grady standing behind her in protective dad mode.

  It was Sandor, and he looked . . . pale.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I wasn’t able to ignore this.”

  He held out Keefe’s Imparter, and before Sophie could ask why he was giving it to her, Lady Gisela’s voice trilled, “Hello, Sophie. We need to talk.”

  Fifty-nine

  YOU HAILED ME?” Sophie asked, squinting at the blank Imparter screen.

  “What can I say? I’ve missed our chats,” Lady Gisela said, managing to sound both bored and superior. “Mind you, I’d hoped to find you with my son, and not the Vacker boy again. But you can correct that error in judgment later.”

  Fitz rolled his eyes and leaned back against the Panakes. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to stop wasting time.”

  “We’re not,” Sophie said, even if it kinda felt like they had been.

  “If that’s true, tell me this: What exactly have you accomplished since you left my facility?” Lady Gisela asked.

  “That’s what I thought,” she added when Sophie and Fitz didn’t say anything. “And I’ve grown tired of waiting for you to realize that you need me. So here we are.”

  “We don’t need you,” Sophie insisted. “Everything you’ve had us do has turned out to be pointless.”

  “Has it? So you don’t have a member of the Neverseen in your custody, and information about Nightfall and soporidine, and an alliance with the ogres?”

  “You didn’t have anything to do with any of that,” Fitz argued.

  “If it makes you feel better to tell yourself that, go ahead. I’ll admit, some of my plans have changed—but all of those changes have turned out to be for the better. I’m actually quite amazed at how well everything is coming together. I just need the final piece. And I need you to get it for me.”

  “And why would we do that?” Fitz asked.

  “Because it will be well worth your while.”

  “Yeah . . . I’m done risking my life—and my friends’ lives—for your stupid errands,” Sophie told her. “Especially since you haven’t even come through with everything we already agreed on.”

  Lady Gisela sighed. “I can only assume you’re referring to your obsession with what happened to Cyrah Endal.”

  “It’s not an obsession.”

  Though Sophie decided then and there that she wasn’t letting Gisela end their conversation until she had what she needed to heal Prentice—not after losing so many days trying to get Sandor to give her the Imparter.

  “The fact that it’s on your mind at all is proof of your foolish priorities,” Lady Gisela insisted. “Especially when you should be focused on finding your fam—”

  “I am focused on finding my family!” Sophie interrupted. “But I’m not going to let the Neverseen distract me from their bigger plans.”

  “And what exactly are those plans?” She huffed when Sophie didn’t have an answer. “You have no clue what’s going on—and you never will unless you accept my help.”

  “You only want to help yourself,” Fitz argued.

  “Trust me, this bargain will benefit all of us.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not making a deal with someone who’s already proven they don’t hold up their end,” Sophie told her.

  “Does that mean you’d agree if I tell you about Cyrah?”

  “It means I’ll hear you out, instead of hanging up on you.” Sophie counted to ten in her head, then handed the Imparter to Sandor. “You can take this back. I think we’re done.”

  “Wait,” Lady Gisela commanded. “If you insist on sidetracking us, fine. I’ll give you your precious Cyrah story. But you’re not going to like it—because I’m not the villain.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Fitz told her.

  “That doesn’t make you any less wrong.”

  Sophie could hear fabric ru
stling, as if Lady Gisela had decided to sit for the next part of the conversation.

  “All I wanted from Cyrah was the starstones,” she said quietly. “I’d discovered that the Ancients used them for leaping before the pathfinder was invented. And since I needed a way to access certain facilities that weren’t on the Lodestar map—”

  “Facilities,” Sophie interrupted, emphasizing the plural. “As in ‘more than Nightfall.’ ”

  “One secret at a time, Sophie. Surely you know that. Anyway, I figured no one would suspect starstones the way they might question an unfamiliar crystal. So I needed a Flasher who could make them for me. The skill had mostly become a lost art, but I knew Cyrah was talented enough to figure it out. And with Prentice in Exile, I also knew I’d be able to manipulate her into cooperating. In that sense, I suppose I do share some blame for what happened—but she was the one who demanded to know what I needed the starstones for. If she’d kept her questions to herself, she’d still be alive.”

  “Are you seriously blaming Cyrah for her own murder?” Sophie asked.

  “Why not? We all share some responsibility for our actions.”

  “Uh, asking questions doesn’t give anyone the right to murder you. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any worse.”

  “I can get much worse, Sophie. You should be grateful for my restraint.”

  “Is that a threat?” Fitz asked.

  “It’s a reminder to think long and hard about who’s truly your enemy, and who has spared you time and again. But we’re getting off track. Going back to the story you’ve been so desperate for me to share, I tried to convince Cyrah that I was a member of the Black Swan and would be using the starstones to protect the newest hideouts—but Prentice must’ve coached her somehow. She asked too many specific questions, and my answers gave away that I was with the Neverseen—not that she knew the name of our order back then. But she knew I was on the other side, and she threatened to turn me in to the Council. I had to silence her.”

  “You mean kill her,” Sophie clarified.

  “Why would I kill her? I needed the starstones. I also much prefer keeping my sanity. I simply made a threat of my own. I knew the Black Swan had created a child, and that she was supposed to be this all-powerful thing, tucked away somewhere until the timing was right. I’d also heard rumors that Cyrah believed her husband would recover by some mysterious means. So, I put two and two together and told her that the Neverseen were close to finding the girl, and that once we did, she would be terminated—but that if Cyrah made me the starstones I needed, I’d make sure the girl had a chance to help Prentice before her untimely demise.”