But she had so many bigger problems.
“What about Biana?”
“Doing well,” Edaline assured her. “She’s already back home at Everglen. And Kesler and Dex are over at Slurps and Burps, working on some new elixirs to help with the scars.”
“Scars?” The word tasted of bile and rage.
“Not as bad as you’re thinking,” Edaline promised. “I went to check on her yesterday and I could barely see them.”
The “barely” part was really hard to get past. Which was why it took Sophie a second to realize . . .
“Yesterday? How long did Elwin sedate me for?”
“He didn’t. Your body pretty much shut down the second you hit the ground in Atlantis. Same thing happened with Keefe and Linh. Tam had to carry all three of you—and Ro—out of there. His telekinesis really is extraordinary.”
It was. Sophie made a note to thank him later. “So how long have I been asleep?”
“Only a little more than a day.”
“A DAY?” Sophie managed to drag herself to her feet—then immediately regretted it when the head rush hit and her knees collapsed. She would’ve crashed face-first onto her flowered carpet if Edaline hadn’t guided her back to the bed.
“It’s fine, Sophie. We’ve been handling everything. You needed the rest.”
“But what about . . . ?” She didn’t know where to begin.
Or maybe she did. “Any sign of Vespera or Gisela?”
“None.”
The news wasn’t surprising. But Sophie was sure they were planning something. Hopefully their rocky alliance would at least slow them down. “And what happened with Wylie?” she asked. “Fintan made it sound like they had some big plan for you guys.”
“If they did, it must’ve fallen apart when Ruy left—which was only a few minutes after Fintan. All Gethen did was ask Wylie a few questions about Prentice.”
Sophie frowned. “Not about Cyrah?”
“No. Somehow he knew that Prentice had been healed, and wanted to know how much Prentice remembered—and Wylie did a brilliant job of making it sound like Gethen should be worried. Wylie’s now back at the cabin with his dad, and lots of guards—though I think he’s planning to help with the cleanup efforts in Atlantis today.”
Sophie’s heart paused. “How bad is the damage?”
“Not as bad as you might imagine. Some buildings will need remodeling, and a few people got banged up in the scramble to evacuate. But Livvy set up a temporary triage center in one of the squares. And Quinlin is with your sister, in case you’re wondering.”
She had been—but she also hadn’t been brave enough to ask. And she couldn’t find the voice to raise the most logical follow-up question.
“They’re going to tear out the unity fountain,” Edaline said, breaking the awkward silence. “And believe it or not, they’re talking about putting a statue of you, Linh, and Keefe there. I’m sure Keefe will have a lot of fun with that.”
He definitely would. But the idea made Sophie’s insides feel slimy. She wasn’t sure she wanted a statue in her honor on top of such a cruel, hateful place.
“Does that mean the Council is still planning to cover up Nightfall?” she had to ask.
“ ‘Cover up’ isn’t the right way to describe it,” Edaline told her. “But revealing the truth is going to take some time. First, they need to secure the facility, which means moving the gorgodon out of there.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Where are they planning to move it to?”
“Here.” Edaline smiled. “I know—it’s going to be a challenge. But it doesn’t seem right to destroy an innocent creature, at least not without trying to tame it. The gnomes are already redesigning one of the pastures into an enclosure that can keep it contained.”
“I might be able to communicate with it once it’s here,” Sophie offered, remembering the grief she’d felt haunting the poor beast.
“I’m sure we’ll take you up on that. We’re going to need all the help we can get. And once the gorgodon is out of the facility, the Council is planning to scour every inch to find any secrets Vespera might have hidden. And at some point after that, they’ll reveal the truth to our world. They want to wait until people aren’t feeling so scared. What happened in Atlantis has definitely shaken everyone.”
Sophie nodded, reaching for Ella and holding on tight, even though the treasured blue elephant was a painful reminder of the question she’d been carefully avoiding.
“We don’t have to talk about them if you’re not ready,” Edaline told her, guessing why her hands were shaking.
“I know.” Still, Sophie took a slow breath and forced herself to ask, “How bad are they?”
“They’re . . . what we expected.”
The careful answer only added to Sophie’s queasiness.
“You’ve seen them?” she whispered.
Edaline let out a breath. “I have—but only briefly. I didn’t want to be away too long in case you woke up. And physically, they’re fine. Most of their injuries only went skin deep, and Elwin and Livvy have already treated everything.”
“And . . . mentally?” Sophie asked, strangling poor Ella.
“Unfortunately, it’s really hard to know,” Edaline admitted, reaching up to tuck a strand of Sophie’s sleep-rumpled hair behind her ear. “Mr. Forkle has tried searching their minds, but your parents each bear the same brand on their feet as Alvar.”
“Soporidine,” Sophie mumbled, refusing to think about the green antidote she’d told Linh to use on Ro. She would never let herself regret that decision. “I take it that means no one knows when they’re going to wake up?”
If they wake up. . . .
“That’s . . . the part I’m not sure how you’re going to react to,” Edaline warned her. She leaned back, fussing with the trim on her burgundy cape. “Haven’t you been wondering where Grady and Sandor are?”
Sophie had—and a thousand horrible theories sprouted in her mind at the suggestion.
But none of them prepared her to hear, “They’re with Fintan.”
Eighty-eight
FINTAN?” SOPHIE WHISPERED, not sure how to force the idea into her head.
Edaline nodded, explaining that Grady and Marella had found Fintan unconscious in Nightfall. They’d been dragging him out of the facility when the flood sirens started blaring—and by the time they got Fintan to city level, Sophie, Linh, and Keefe were already working on the breach. Apparently, Grady nearly had a heart attack when he saw them hovering up there.
“Where’s Fintan now?” Sophie asked.
“That’s . . . where it gets tricky,” Edaline admitted. “Fintan has made a number of demands. He doesn’t want any Telepaths coming near him—especially you. And he wants to be kept in a private prison, like where we’re keeping Alvar, instead of a cell in Exile. He also wants a guarantee from the Council that no memory break will be ordered, and that no harm will be brought upon him. And—”
“Why would we agree to any of that?” Sophie interrupted.
Edaline reached for her hand. “Because he has a small stockpile of the antidote to soporidine.”
Everything inside Sophie stilled.
“The Council made a demand of their own,” Edaline added. “Fintan will have to work with Bronte to help him gain access to the secrets in his old cache.”
“Does that mean they’re going to agree?”
“They already have. Oralie is livid, of course—and Grady’s not much happier. But the hard truth is, if Fintan’s willing to cooperate, it’s our best chance of learning at least a few of the secrets we need from him. We didn’t recover anything useful during his previous memory break. And given what happened to Kenric, it’s not worth attempting another—especially since Fintan’s demands aren’t that unreasonable.”
“I’m sure he’s planning something,” Sophie argued.
“So am I. So is everyone. That’s why the Council is working with the Black Swan to build something to hold Fintan th
at will ensure he can’t escape again.”
Sophie wasn’t sure a place like that would ever exist. But she focused on the more immediate problem.
“How do we know this isn’t a trick? Or that Lady Gisela hasn’t moved the antidote somewhere else?”
“Grady retrieved the stash this morning. It only had a dozen vials, but Elwin confirmed that the ointment matches the traces he found on Ro’s skin. And Lady Cadence and her team of ogres are already working to replicate it.”
She paused there, twining her fingers with Sophie’s. “Livvy took two of the doses for your parents.”
A lump lodged in Sophie’s throat. “Did it work?”
“I’m sure it will. But Livvy doesn’t think it would be wise to have them regain any form of consciousness until a Washer is there to erase their memories. Alden’s been working to make all the arrangements. He wants to use one of the same Washers he used before, to make their new identities as seamless as possible with their old.”
Sophie looked away, pressing a hand to her chest, as if she could feel that lingering void beginning to widen again.
She’d known all of this was coming. And she’d seen enough of her parents’ wounds—and heard enough of Vespera’s horrifying philosophies—to understand why.
But none of that eased the ache in her heart, or dulled the burning in her eyes.
“So when is Livvy going to do it?” she whispered.
“That’s up to you. Their vitals are stable, so they can definitely wait a little longer if you want some time to say goodbye.”
Sophie frowned. “I thought we had to erase their memories the second they wake up.”
“We do.” Edaline wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I was talking about your sister.”
“Oh.”
A headache flared to match the pain already in her chest. “Does Amy know her memories will have to be erased?”
“Yes. Livvy explained everything when they brought her to see her parents. She . . . struggled a bit.”
The words felt like another blow. “She’s seen them?”
“She insisted. And don’t worry, Livvy waited until their wounds were completely healed. Amy wanted to see you, too, by the way. But you were still too out of it. So if you’d like to spend some time with her—”
“What’s the point?” Sophie interrupted, the question sharper than she intended. “It’s just another memory for the Washer to erase, right?”
“He won’t be erasing your memories,” Edaline gently reminded her. “I know all of this is going to be so, so hard for you. But . . . I think it might help if you have that small bit of closure.”
The words echoed around the room, sounding as hollow as Sophie felt.
“I’m sorry,” Edaline said, reaching up to brush away Sophie’s tears. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”
“Me too.”
And maybe it was selfishness, or recklessness, or pure desperation, but she found her mind circling back to that first conversation she’d had with Alden in Atlantis, when she’d reminded him that if her family had known the truth about the danger they were in, that they might’ve been able to prevent themselves from being taken.
If Nightfall and Vespera had proven anything, it was that buried secrets had a way of coming back to haunt them.
So she let herself ask, “Why can’t Amy keep her memories? She hasn’t been through any major trauma. And then she’d be prepared if the Neverseen came after them again.”
“If only it were that simple,” Mr. Forkle said from the doorway.
Sophie whipped around, flinching when she found him standing with Grady and Sandor—and Councillor Bronte.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Mr. Forkle added. “But think of what you’re suggesting. Your sister would be forced to lie to her parents every minute of every day.”
“Sounds a lot like how I had to hide my telepathy,” Sophie reminded him. “And I was only five years old.”
“I remember,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “I also remember exactly how great that struggle was for you.”
“Maybe Amy wouldn’t care,” Sophie argued. “Shouldn’t it be her choice? Alden promised it would be.”
Mr. Forkle sighed. “Your sister has shown a tremendous amount of resilience these long weeks. But she’s still a child, and cannot possibly fathom the magnitude of this responsibility.”
“I’m sure she’s also freaked out about having someone poke around her memories,” Grady added. “And that’s not a good reason to choose a life of constant deception.”
“I agree,” Mr. Forkle said. “And I say that as someone who understands the complexities of duplicity better than anyone.”
Sophie looked away. “I know. I just . . . hate this.”
“So do I.”
Surprisingly, the words came from Bronte.
He crossed her room, the soft petals in the carpet shifting under his feet as he moved toward the windows and stared out at the sea.
“All my life, some small, secret part of me has wished the divide between humans and elves could be bridged,” he whispered. “I never fought for change, because I believed the lies that had been fed to me. But now that the deeper truths have been revealed . . .”
Several seconds dragged by before he turned back to Sophie. “Do you truly believe your sister could hide our existence?”
She forced herself to think it through before she said, “Yes.”
Amy had always been a good liar—and when she wanted something, she never gave up.
“There’s more at stake than the secrecy of our world,” Mr. Forkle reminded them. “All it would take is one slip around your parents—one wrong word—and the trauma of what they’ve endured could be triggered.”
Sophie shivered. “Will they really be that vulnerable?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Mr. Forkle assured her. “It would take very specific triggers. The kind your sister would only know if her mind wasn’t cleared.”
“So tell Amy that,” Sophie told him. “If she knows the risks, she’ll be careful. Especially if you come up with a really good cover story for her.”
If Mr. Forkle could keep his identical twin hidden—and maintain multiple identities—surely he could guide Amy through the process.
“It seems at least worth considering,” Bronte said, mostly to himself. “I suspect I could convince the rest of the Council to agree with me—or at least the majority I’d need.”
A tingle hummed in Sophie’s heart and she tried to ignore it, because it felt way too much like hope—and she was sure a “but” was coming.
“But,” Bronte said, right on cue. His sharp eyes locked with Sophie’s. “Before I do anything, I would need to explain the options to your sister—and I would need to make the risks painfully clear.”
“You mean you’d need to scare her,” Sophie said.
Memories of their early inflicting sessions flashed through her head—but she had no doubt her sister could face down anything. Even Bronte in stern mode.
“And if Amy decides she wants to keep her memories?” she asked.
He turned back to the windows. “Then I would head straight to Eternalia and make the arrangements. Assuming I could count on the Black Swan for help.”
Mr. Forkle nodded, and the room went silent as everyone processed the gravity of what they were suggesting.
A human knowing the secret of the Lost Cities. Maybe even having some contact with their world.
It would be messy and complicated—but that was the Black Swan’s specialty. And if her sister understood the stakes, she’d find a way to make it work.
“Talk to her,” Sophie told him. “I bet I know what she’ll say.”
Eighty-nine
OKAY, FOSTER,” KEEFE said, guiding her to one of his dad’s porch swings and forcing her to take a seat. “We need to get your mind to a happier place. Want me to sing? Or how about I bust out more of my incredible dancing?”
He fo
lded his arms behind his head, shaking his hips and flapping his elbows like wings.
Of all the places the Black Swan could’ve hidden her human parents, Sophie never, never would’ve expected they’d ask Lord Cassius to keep them at the Shores of Solace.
They’d had their reasons, of course. Something to do with security and the overall tranquility of the surroundings—not to mention Keefe’s dad was part of the Black Swan now.
Thankfully, they’d asked Lord Cassius to leave for the afternoon, to give Sophie privacy.
But it still felt wrong.
Then again, everything felt wrong. Probably because everything was wrong.
Sophie had been so sure her sister would be excited to keep her memories that it had felt like a double sucker punch when Amy chose to have her mind erased. She did understand why Amy had been afraid after Bronte’s warnings. And she couldn’t fault her sister for choosing what she felt would be safest for her parents. Plus . . . it wasn’t like they were close. They’d barely seen each other while Amy had been in the Lost Cities. They weren’t friends. And they weren’t actually sisters.
They were just two girls from two different worlds.
It was time for them to go their separate ways.
And yet . . . it hurt, more than Sophie was willing to admit, knowing Amy was choosing to erase her. So she’d made an important decision too.
A choice to protect her parents’ sanity—and her own.
Closure.
“You’re sure you don’t want your adoptive family to be here for this?” Mr. Forkle asked.
He stood with Sandor near the porch railing, and Sandor side-eyed Keefe’s wiggly dance as he added, “Or any of your other friends?”
“Are you implying that I’m not good enough, Gigantor?” Keefe asked, wiggling harder and kicking his legs. “Or are you just jealous of my moves?”
“I’m implying that today will be difficult for Sophie, and she might want to surround herself with as much moral support as possible,” Sandor informed him.
“I’ll be fine,” Sophie promised. If she’d had it her way, she’d be alone. She’d even tried asking Keefe to leave, but there was no getting rid of him.
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