Nightfall

by Shannon Messenger

  Neither would she.

  “I want to go to Atlantis,” Sophie admitted. “I’m not sure I can handle sitting around right now. I’m too antsy.”

  Keefe’s smile was enormous. “Woo! Team Foster-Keefe is back!”

  “I’m in too,” Fitz said.

  “And me,” Biana added.

  “Dude, I’m not gonna be the only one stuck on library duty,” Tam told them. “But we’re changing the team’s name.”

  “We can’t all be in,” Keefe reminded them. “That’s the point of splitting up.”

  “The only way this will work,” Mr. Forkle said, “is if you make a schedule and coordinate who’s going and who’s staying for each shift. You’re free to divvy it up however you want—so long as there’s always at least one goblin with whoever’s in Atlantis.”

  “I’d point out that you’d be way better off making sure they had an ogre with them,” Ro jumped in, “but your paranoid Councillors told me I’m not allowed to be seen in your cities. Which means”—she turned to Keefe—“you’re stuck in library land—assuming I can sneak into the building unnoticed. If not, you’ll just have to catch up with everyone later. Believe me, I’m not happy about it either, but I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight, so . . .”

  “You left me when you went to Candleshade,” he reminded her.

  “That was different. You were on bed rest. And I rigged traps around your room when I left.”

  Keefe’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, good thing I didn’t get up to pee.”

  Ro’s grin said it definitely was.

  “Well, I don’t need a babysitter,” he told her.

  “It’s so precious that you think that. Look at him, guys—thinking he’s all tough.”

  “I like her,” Tam said.

  Keefe shot him a glare that turned even colder when he directed it at Ro. “I’m going to Atlantis—and if you try to stop me, I’ll make sure you take the blame for a very unfortunate incident in Councillor Alina’s castle and get banned from the Lost Cities.”

  Ro studied her claws. “Do that, and I’ll make sure my dad retaliates.”

  “Really? That’s the best you can do? Run to Daddy?” Keefe asked.

  “Just because you have daddy issues doesn’t mean we all do.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Forkle said, stepping between them, “in the interest of avoiding an interspeciesial incident, how about we provide extra security for Mr. Sencen, and you can blame us if anything happens, Ro?”

  “What kind of security?” Ro asked.

  “Me,” Grady said before Mr. Forkle could answer.

  Sophie was going to be touched by Grady’s offer, until he added, “I’m sure Keefe’s going to talk his way into all of Sophie’s shifts, and I want to keep an eye on them. And if you doubt my abilities, keep in mind that I’ve made someone burn off their own hand.”

  Ro looked mildly impressed.

  But she didn’t agree until she looked at Keefe. “Fine—but only because he seems super bitter about this plan. What am I supposed to do while he’s gone?”

  “I can bring you to Riverdrift,” Tiergan offered. “Lady Cadence has several of your father’s best microbiologists working with her on the soporidine antidote right now.”

  “An ogre party boat?” Ro asked.

  “I believe they’re calling it a research vessel,” Tiergan noted.

  “Not once I get there.” She wrapped her arm around Keefe’s shoulder and messed up his hair. “Have fun with your chaperone.”

  On that note, Tiergan, Linh, and Ro left—and Mr. Forkle and Alden followed—leaving Grady with the less-than-happy task of arbitrating while Sophie, Keefe, Fitz, Biana, and Tam fought over the Atlantis schedule. Sandor, Grizel, and Woltzer added plenty of their own bickering, debating which one of them would cover security for each shift. And while Tam managed to force Keefe into a few of the research time slots, he gave most of them to Linh, not wanting her spending too much time underwater—no matter how many times Biana swore he was underestimating his sister.

  From there, they took time to map out the city, arranging each shift so that it would cover mostly new ground—but with enough overlap to keep the visits from looking systematic if anyone was watching.

  And thus began a string of endless, exhausting days where Sophie’s feet throbbed from all the walking, and her eyes went blurry from all the reading, and she stumbled from shift to shift in a daze.

  She didn’t hear the jokes Keefe cracked.

  Or taste the treats Fitz bought her.

  Or resist Biana’s attempts to give her a makeover every time they pretended to shop.

  Or weigh in when Tam and Linh spent an entire Atlantis trip debating which pet Linh should adopt for the favor Tam owed her.

  Because every street that showed no trace of the symbol, every lengthy account of Atlantis’s history with no mention of the facility, every update from Mr. Forkle confessing that he’d found nothing useful in the journals—it all felt like a ticking clock growing louder and louder and louder.

  Dex and Bronte had yet to access a single secret on the caches. Lady Cadence hadn’t made any progress on the soporidine—and they still didn’t have any clue what the Neverseen were planning to do with it. And no matter what Livvy tried, Alvar wouldn’t wake up.

  Sophie forced a brave face every night when she checked on her sister, but all the things they didn’t say piled up between them, making the conversation feel as tense as their smiles.

  And before Sophie knew it, Foxfire was starting—and the panic hit hard.

  She spent her last research shift—just her, Keefe, Sandor, Grady, and Ro—gathering the biggest stack of books she could carry so she could at least do something after school.

  “Hey,” Keefe said, blocking her as she tried to scoot past where he’d been sitting at the long obsidian table. “Did you seriously think you could hide these from me?”

  He reached up and wiped one of the tears trickling down her cheeks.

  She shrugged and looked away, hating that he’d caught her.

  She wasn’t crying about the things she should be worrying about—the huge, unsolvable problems that would surely affect everybody.

  She was being selfish and crying about the family she wouldn’t even get to keep.

  “Okay, two choices,” Keefe told her, standing up and tilting her chin toward him. “You can tell me what’s wrong. Or I can put my Empath powers to work—but keep in mind, Option B will likely pick up on all kinds of other feelings.”

  Sophie gave him her surliest scowl, but he didn’t back down.

  She looked away again, her eyes tracing the swirling facets in the dark ruby walls, which made the library look like it was made of jeweled mahogany. The room was probably supposed to feel cozy and opulent. But all Sophie saw was red.

  And still, Keefe waited, so she told him, “It’s just . . . we’re getting nowhere. And if we can’t figure it out when we’re all working on it around the clock, how is anything going to get done when we’re all back at Foxfire and we have to let the adults take over?”

  Grady snorted. “You know, most people consider adults to be better at these kinds of things than teenagers.”

  Sophie and Keefe shared a look—and had to laugh.

  Grady sighed. “You two are definitely spending too much time together.”

  “I take it that means you haven’t joined Team Foster-Keefe?” Ro asked. “Because I have to admit, they’re pretty cute together. Especially when she gets that look in her eye like she’s going to tear off his head.”

  “All I meant,” Sophie said, doing her best to ignore Ro, “is that there’s so much going on right now, we can’t afford to lose seven people—eleven, if you count Bronte and Lady Cadence and Tiergan and Mr. For . . .”

  She caught her slip just in time.

  “Darn, almost got one of the juicy secrets,” Ro said. “Though I’m pretty sure that means your wrinkly leader teaches at Foxfire.”

  “It’s cal
led mentoring,” Sophie corrected, “and you can believe whatever you want.”

  “I will.”

  Sophie hoped that meant Ro would stick with her Forkle-is-a-Mentor theory and not look too closely at the principal.

  “Anyway,” Keefe said, “if it feels like the grown-ups aren’t pulling their weight, we can always dit—”

  “No ditching,” Sandor and Grady interrupted in unison.

  “Figured you guys would say that,” Keefe told them, “even though you can’t really stop us.” He winked at Sophie. “But I think you’re also forgetting, Foster, that we’ve managed to get a lot done when school is in session. We stopped the gnomish plague while going to Exillium—and you managed to look into the Everblaze while juggling midterms. You even got your abilities fixed—and healed Alden—during the first term this year.”

  The word “healed” unleashed a whole other storm of panic.

  Her friends had been coming over every night to work on the script for Prentice, but everything they’d come up with either felt too mushy or too cruel. Finding the right balance was starting to feel impossible.

  “Would it help if I’m there for the healing?” Keefe offered. “I could keep track of Prentice’s feelings. Or I could . . .” He glanced at Ro and his mouth shifted to a different word. “I could . . . do what I did to calm you down while we were in Ravagog.”

  Ro rolled her eyes. “Could you guys be any worse at hiding stuff?”

  Sophie ignored her, remembering that soothing blue breeze that had eased her panic. “That actually might be a good idea.”

  “Wow, you must really be scared if you’re accepting my help that easily.” Keefe felt her forehead, as if checking for a fever. “I don’t need to take you to Elwin, right?”

  Sophie sighed.

  But . . . the joke did help.

  The whole conversation helped.

  Her eyes had dried, and that tick-tick-ticking in her ears quieted.

  And Keefe knew it. His smile was adorably smug as he grabbed half of her books to help her carry them home.

  Grady, meanwhile, was studying Keefe like he’d never seen him before in his life.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Sophie told him, keeping her voice low—just for the two of them.

  Keefe’s smile turned unbearably sweet. “Me too, Foster. Me too.”

  Sixty-three

  RETURNING TO FOXFIRE felt every bit as wrong as Sophie had expected.

  But in small ways, it also felt right.

  Even with the worries ticking away in her head—and even with the pressure of finals already looming—there was something comforting about wearing her amber-brown uniform again, and watching Mr. Forkle appear as the sharp-featured, dark-haired Magnate Leto, and wandering the colorful halls, surrounded by laughter and gossip.

  It felt like proof that someday things truly would return to the way they’d been when she’d first moved to the Lost Cities and had no idea the Neverseen existed.

  Still, there were definitely challenges.

  Homework was a big one. In the past, Sophie had always been able to finish her assignments in study hall. But study hall had been cut in half, to add extra lecture time to each session. Her mentors had also doubled the workload to keep up with the accelerated curriculum. So every day, Sophie and her friends found themselves dragging home a thick stack of work that left almost no time for anything else. And while the adults did their best to pick up the slack—and gave Sophie lengthy updates every night to ease her mind—their reports were always filled with stories of failed attempts and false leads, with little actual progress.

  Ro’s presence on campus was another problem—despite the stern lectures Magnate Leto kept giving at orientation every morning on how Ro was a distinguished guest and should be treated with honor and respect. The ogre princess didn’t seem to mind the glares and whispers and screams—she even flashed claws and teeth to encourage them. But watching the other prodigies’ reactions made Sophie uneasy. After spending time with Ro and seeing her intelligence and humor—obnoxious as both could sometimes be—Sophie finally understood why Lady Cadence was always defending the ogres. And it turned her stomach to see how deeply the elves’ prejudice truly ran.

  Lunchtime was another complication. Jensi chose not to sit with them—and Sophie couldn’t totally blame him, thanks to how crowded their table had gotten, now that Tam, Linh, and Marella were regulars. But it still made her sad every time he passed them by to head over to the Drooly Boys. And she wished Maruca would stop claiming the seat next to her. As Wylie’s cousin, Maruca knew all about Prentice’s upcoming healing, and spent the hour asking so many questions that it turned the healing into its own kind of stressful countdown.

  Four days.

  Three days.

  Two days.

  One.

  Then Sophie was stumbling on shaky legs into the cozy mountain cabin that Prentice and Wylie were sharing, not sure if she was going to throw up or pass out—especially when she saw how many people were waiting for her. Sandor, Grizel, and Ro chose to wait outside in order to patrol the surrounding forest. And the rest of the group had been limited only to those directly affected by Prentice’s sacrifice, or those who could provide Sophie with help or assistance. But the small wood-paneled room was still crammed with all five members of the Collective—though Tiergan had left behind his rocky disguise for the day. Quinlin and Livvy had also arranged to leave Amy with Grady and Edaline in order to join them. And Alden, Della, Fitz, Keefe, Tam, and Linh had all clumped together, their expressions as mixed as Sophie’s tangled emotions.

  Wylie stood in the center of it all, next to a figure propped on a narrow bed, staring out the round window overlooking the snowcapped mountains—and Sophie could spot the changes in Prentice immediately. His usually dull, sweaty skin was now a rich, smooth umber, his blue eyes were clear, his tangled hair had been twisted neatly into smooth dreadlocks, and his full lips were miraculously drool free. He looked calm. Handsome, even. No sign of the twitching or thrashing Sophie had gotten so used to seeing.

  Still, Sophie had to work up the courage to hold Wylie’s piercing stare. She started with his arms, relieved to find no trace of the blisters that had marred his dark skin after the Neverseen’s interrogation. Then she moved her gaze to shoulders that looked even broader than she remembered, and finally to his face. His nose and lips were sharper than his father’s, and his smile—the rare times she’d seen it—came from his mother.

  But his eyes were 100 percent Prentice’s.

  And Sophie saw terror in those piercing blue depths.

  And uncertainty.

  And sorrow.

  But there was also hope and peace and gratitude.

  Sophie didn’t feel worthy of the last emotion. After all Prentice had done to protect her—and all Wylie had endured because of that sacrifice—she owed them this.

  Had owed them for a very, very long time.

  “Remember,” Mr. Forkle said as he led Sophie to a carved wooden chair that had been set up next to Prentice, “your goal is simply to catch Prentice up as much as you can and prepare him for what he’ll find when he wakes. We trust you to judge how much he can handle.”

  “And tell him I love him, okay?” Wylie added quietly. “Tell him . . . I don’t care how long it’s been, I just want him back.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “I’m right behind you,” Fitz said, reaching for her hand. They’d decided to have her keep her gloves on, afraid enhancing would be too much for Prentice. “Squeeze my fingers if you need me to give you a boost.”

  “I’m also happy to help any way I can,” Mr. Forkle promised.

  “As am I,” Tiergan said, moving to stand beside Wylie.

  “Same goes for me,” Alden added, clearing the tremble from his throat.

  He glanced at Quinlin, as if he expected his former Cognate to make the same offer. But Quinlin was too busy staring at Prentice with a glazed, unreadable expression.

/>   “Wow, there are a lot of Telepaths in this room,” Keefe said as he took his place on Sophie’s other side. “Good thing you were smart enough to also bring an Empath. Deep breaths, Foster—you’ve got this. And I’ve got your back. If I feel Prentice’s emotions getting too intense, I’ll do this.” He clutched her shoulder—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to demand her attention. “So if you don’t feel me doing that, you don’t have to worry, okay? And if I feel either of you losing control, I’ll pull off your glove and calm you both down. So just relax and do your Moonlark mind-healing thing.”

  “Not healing,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “Just communicating. And if you need Mr. Tam to lift a veil of shadowvapor for any reason, all you have to do is say the word.”

  “Or if Prentice needs to be sedated, I’m ready,” Livvy assured her, holding up a clear elixir.

  “Don’t be afraid to abort if it’s not going well,” Tiergan added. “Even if it means putting things off another day—or week—or month. We’ll wait.”

  Sophie nodded blankly.

  Fitz leaned closer. “Just stick to the script, Sophie. It’s a good one. You’re ready.”

  Sophie blew out a breath. “Okay.”

  Her eyes trailed back to Wylie—seeking that final assurance. And his shaky nod settled it.

  “All right, Prentice,” she said as she closed her eyes and dove into his mental darkness. “Let’s start bringing you back.”

  Sixty-four

  UM . . . HI, SOPHIE transmitted, too startled to think of anything more articulate as she studied the lovely red-haired female who stood in front of her in a gauzy pink dress.

  Sophie had been prepared for another surreal projection as she’d pushed past the sharper bits of Prentice’s shattered consciousness. But this was . . . unexpected.

  The redhead waited for her on the shore of a glassy lake, surrounded by swaying grassy plants that looked like glittery cattails. And Sophie recognized her even before she smiled her achingly familiar smile.