“Or they wanted me out of commission,” Sophie suggested quietly, not wanting to share too much about her troubling theories. “I’ve lost how many weeks in the Healing Center? And I’m still not fully recovered.” She tilted her chin toward her sling—and decided not to mention the echo.
“I suppose that could’ve made sense if something significant had happened during the time of your recovery,” Tarina reasoned. “But nothing has, has it? And here’s another thing I don’t understand: Why would they ever mention that they had some sort of tracker on you? Why volunteer that information, knowing you’d obviously then do everything you could to find and destroy whatever they were using? I don’t know these enemies—but they don’t seem like the type to make such a foolish mistake. So there has to be a larger goal.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Mr. Forkle said, reaching up to rub one of his temples. “Or that we shouldn’t continue to ponder these questions. But as you said, you do not know the Neverseen. If you did, you’d know that they feed off attention and spectacle to a degree where it truly can be their own folly. For instance: Fintan successfully faked his death. None of us had the slightest suspicion that he was still alive. And his order already relied on cloaks to hide their identities. So he had absolutely no reason to show his face the day he threatened the Council in Eternalia—other than his own vanity. He wanted credit for the feats he’d pulled off. Just like Fintan had no reason to insist that Alvar reveal himself as a traitor. No one had suspected the eldest Vacker of anything at that point—and as a Vanisher, he likely could’ve kept his ruse going for a good long while and continued to spy on his father and brother and whatever else he’d been doing. And yet, Fintan forced Alvar to reveal himself, for no reason I can think of, other than he wanted to shock us. He wanted us to know that our enemies were everywhere, even in places we might otherwise feel safe. And there is some advantage to that. But it’s also tremendously reckless—and something I’m hoping to figure out how to exploit someday.”
“I suppose,” Tarina said, tracing her claws over the letters carved into the strap across her chest. “But I still fear we’re missing something.”
Sophie didn’t argue.
No one did.
Because deep down they all knew that when it came to the Neverseen, they were always missing something.
“Are you okay?” Grady asked as Sophie closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath, trying to stop the monster from stirring up fresh nightmares.
Everything Tarina had raised was terrifying.
But it was also valid.
And she couldn’t let the fear set her back.
She was out of the Healing Center now. She needed to start searching for better answers—and she couldn’t do that if the echo took control.
And she could start training, she reminded herself, clinging to the words like a lifeline.
Training made the answers less crucial.
Training would make her ready for whatever was happening.
“I’m fine,” she said, waiting until the words were true, and giving Grady her most reassuring smile.
Grady didn’t look convinced. “I think we should head to the house. Your body’s not used to this much activity, so you probably need to get off your feet.”
“I agree,” Mr. Forkle chimed in. “And I’m afraid this is also when I must leave you. If I don’t head to Eternalia soon, the Council will be very annoyed with me.” He pulled out his pathfinder and quickly adjusted the crystal. “Oh, and Elwin wanted me to let you know he’ll be stopping by after dinner to check Miss Foster’s progress and go over her medication regimen.”
I’ll let you know what the Council’s planning for the meeting with Fintan as soon as everything’s finalized, he transmitted to Sophie. And we’ll talk more about the trolls once I’ve investigated. I’m not sure how long either of those tasks will take, so if you don’t hear from me for a bit, don’t think I’ve forgotten, okay?
Sophie nodded, and he waved to the others before stepping into the light and slowly shimmering away.
“Come on, kiddo,” Grady said, shaking bits of dried fruit out of his hair and hooking his arm around her. “Let’s get you inside—oh, and let’s not mention how long you’ve been home, okay? If Edaline finds out I didn’t bring you straight in to see her, she’s going to conjure up a pile of mastodon droppings and plop them on my head.”
He was teasing, of course. But Edaline actually had threatened a manure attack once—and she was definitely a talented enough Conjurer to make it happen.
“Don’t you still need to feed the gorgodon one more tangourd?” Sophie reminded him.
“That’s right.” He turned to the gnomes gathering the pieces of smashed fruit from around the enclosure. “Would you guys mind finishing up without me?”
The gnomes each gave a green thumbs-up and set to work, causing a whole lot more roaring as Grady guided Sophie back down the path, with Sandor glued to her side. The rest of her guards slipped into what must’ve been a previously agreed-on formation, with Bo taking point, Flori flanking Sophie’s opposite side, and Tarina bringing in the rear.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Grady said when the house came into view. “Edaline made enough treats to feed an entire city.”
“I’m starving,” Sophie admitted.
Also thirsty.
And sitting down did sound really, really good.
A deep ache was settling into every muscle—even ones she didn’t know existed—and she was trying not to let it frustrate her. But it was hard not to wish she could fast-forward to the part where she’d be 100 percent back to . . .
All thoughts dropped away when she stepped through the door to Havenfield, into the enormous main room with its elegant white furnishings and gleaming chandeliers. It looked so much homier than it had the day Sophie moved in, even though everything was essentially the same. Maybe it was the dents in the pillows and the footprints on the rugs and all the other tiny signs of life that were now everywhere.
Or maybe it was because it smelled like butter and melting sugar and a million other yummy things that had Sophie’s stomach unleashing a growl that could’ve rivaled the gorgodon’s.
Edaline burst through the door from the kitchen to greet them, and then there was a whole lot more hugging and crying—plus lots of questions about how Sophie was feeling. Sophie also mumbled an apology for chasing Edaline away, and Edaline kissed her cheek, promising there were no hard feelings.
“Not to break up the reunion,” Sandor interrupted, “but Sophie looks a little pale.”
“I just need to sit,” Sophie assured everyone.
“It sounds like some food would be good too,” Grady added with a wink at Sophie.
Edaline nodded and snapped her fingers, making a round crystal table appear in the center of the room—and the next snap brought Sophie a chair.
Sophie sank onto it gratefully as Edaline continued snapping, bringing in chairs for everyone—including Sophie’s bodyguards—along with tray after tray of elvin delicacies: custard bursts and ripplefluffs and pudding puffs and mallowmelt—even butterblasts. There were plenty of savory foods too, of course, and they smelled delicious. But Sophie still filled half her plate with desserts, and nobody blamed her.
Even Bo cracked a smile when he had his first bite of mallowmelt—and then helped himself to the rest of the tray.
Tarina took down almost as many ripplefluffs.
They were both sampling their first custard bursts when they jumped to their feet and drew their weapons.
“It’s not an intruder,” Sandor told them, shaking his head. “It’s the physician—you should’ve recognized his scent from Sophie’s clothes.”
“I smell like Elwin?” Sophie asked as a loud knock rattled the door.
“You smell like everyone and everything you’ve been in contact with,” Flori told her as Grady went to let Elwin in—which was a strange thing to realize, even if it also made sense.
�
��Did you search his bags?” Bo demanded when Elwin shuffled into the room with four overstuffed satchels slung over his shoulders.
“I don’t need to,” Sandor told him.
Bo snorted. “My king would never be so sloppy with his security.”
“Here,” Elwin said, setting all four satchels at Bo’s feet. “Search away—but don’t break anything. Some of that medicine took me all day to brew. And sorry to show up in the middle of dinner,” he told Edaline. “I thought you’d be done by now. Want me to come back?”
“Of course not,” Edaline assured him, conjuring him a chair next to Sophie’s and telling him to help himself.
Elwin was more than happy to help them polish off the rest of the desserts. And when he’d devoured every last crumb, he led Sophie over to the couch and slipped on his iridescent spectacles. “Let’s see how you’re holding up after such a busy day,” he said, snapping his fingers and forming a blue orb around Sophie’s head.
Tarina gasped.
“I take it you’ve never seen a Flasher at work before?” Elwin asked her.
“No,” Tarina admitted. “But I’ve wanted to, ever since I first heard the legends.”
“Legends,” Bo scoffed. “You’re looking at a party trick—nothing more. You want to see something legendary, you should visit our microbiology labs.”
“Yes, nothing’s more exciting than bacteria,” Elwin muttered. “And just so we’re clear—my ‘party trick’ saved your princess’s life.”
Bo froze. “You treated Romhilda?”
“I did. And I hope I’m around if you ever call her that to her face,” Elwin noted, likely remembering how strongly Ro felt about people using her full name.
Bo sighed. “Romhilda has a gift for rebelling against tradition. That’s why her father sent her here.”
“I’m pretty sure he sent her because she’s the best,” Sophie corrected, not liking his tone.
“I’m sure she loves to claim that,” Bo told her. “And there’s no denying that she’s an incredible warrior. But she’s never beaten me—and someday she’ll have to accept what that means.”
“What does it mean?” Sophie asked.
“Nothing worth sharing.”
“How do you know Ro?” Sophie pressed, remembering Keefe and Ro’s latest wager. “Did you train together, or . . . ?”
“She’s the princess,” Bo said simply. “Everyone knows her. And I should begin the nightly patrols.”
Sophie couldn’t tell if he was trying to dodge her questions. But his vague answer did not bode well for Keefe’s chances of another betting victory.
“So . . . how does everything look?” Sophie asked as Elwin shifted to one of those layered light bubbles that showed him the whole spectrum.
“Better than I was expecting,” Elwin admitted. “I’d assumed I’d be repairing a bit of damage from all the leaping. But . . . everything looks good. You’ll be sore tomorrow, and you definitely need to get some rest. But you haven’t set yourself back—and this!” He lifted Sophie’s left wrist and whistled. “I’ve seen some crazy gadgets in my day, but this is seriously brilliant. I can see the energy soaking straight into your cells.”
Sophie took a slow breath, working up the courage to ask, “So . . . does that mean I can start training tomorrow with my left arm?”
Elwin scratched his chin and adjusted his glasses as he checked her one more time. His expression was impossible to read, and Sophie tried to prepare herself for disappointment.
But he told her, “Yes, I think you’re ready.”
• • •
With Elwin’s permission for training secured, Grady and Edaline jumped on board as well.
And Sandor made it official.
Sophie’s first lesson would start the next day after her morning round of medicine—which was the only thing everyone could agree on. Extensive debate followed over which bodyguard should teach, and what exactly the lessons would be—and Sophie decided to stay out of it, content to sit on the couch and watch Sandor, Bo, and Tarina wave weapons around, trying to outdo each other.
She had a feeling that bodyguard bickering would now be a regular part of her day—and she was good with that. At least they’d all be driving each other as crazy as they’d surely be driving her.
“Not joining in the my-training-is-better-than-your-training fight?” Sophie asked when Flori came to sit beside her.
Flori shook her head. “Most of my defenses cannot be taught to those outside my species. But I have a different request.”
“Anything,” Sophie told her.
For Calla’s niece, the answer was always yes.
Flori’s cheeks flushed, and she twirled a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her plaits. “I’m . . . hoping you’ll let me sing to you.”
“You mean like when Calla would sing to the trees to keep them healthy?” Sophie asked.
“I realize there’s a notable difference,” Flori assured her. “But . . . I believe we all have a song within us, even if we don’t think of it as music. Each life has a rhythm of breaths and heartbeats, and that melody should be drawn on for strength, and comfort, and healing. I know it may sound foolish, but—”
“I think it sounds . . . nice,” Sophie promised, wishing she could come up with a better word. The fact that Flori would suggest it felt . . . a little like having Calla back. And Sophie’s eyes burned as she whispered, “Thank you.”
Flori flashed a green-toothed smile. But it faded when she added, “Your mother also told me about the echoes. And . . . I know nothing of such things. Darkness will always be darkness to me. But I wonder if I could sing them to sleep. If not, perhaps I can soften their tune.”
“It’s worth a try,” Sophie said, her chest warming with a fresh spark of hope as Flori stood and faced her.
The tiny gnome pressed her left hand against Sophie’s sling and reached for Sophie’s face with her other hand. “May I?” she asked, her fingers hovering just above Sophie’s skin.
Sophie nodded, and Flori gently cradled the right side of her head, her fingers shifting back and forth across her temple, like branches swaying in a breeze.
“This is where they hurt you, isn’t it?” Flori breathed.
Sophie couldn’t seem to push the word “yes” past the massive lump now caught in her throat. So she went with another nod.
“They didn’t realize how strong you are,” Flori told her. “But I fear you may have forgotten as well. Perhaps I can remind you.”
She closed her eyes, swaying softly to some inner rhythm as her delicate voice sang a melody in a language too ancient for Sophie to fully grasp, but somehow she still caught the meaning. The lyrics poured through the air like honey, slowly sinking under Sophie’s skin—flooding her heart with warmth and energy, sending it tingling through her veins.
It wasn’t a happy song, or a sweet song.
It was deep and rich and poignant.
A song of weathering storms.
An anthem for rising up and growing stronger.
The last note lingered in the air, a fragile, perfect thing neither of them wanted to shatter, and only then did Sophie realize how quiet everyone else had gotten.
She turned to find all eyes not on her—but on Flori. Even Bo stared at the tiny gnome with a hint of wonder. And Tarina was blinking hard enough that she might’ve been crying—it was hard to tell with the natural gleam to her skin.
Elwin cleared his throat several times before he managed to ask, “Did that help?”
“I’m not sure,” Sophie admitted, stretching her weak fingers.
Now that the song had ended, the tingly warmth had faded.
But she did feel . . . energized.
And maybe slightly less achy.
“I think it made a difference,” she decided.
“With the echoes?” Edaline asked, hope clinging to every word.
That was much harder to tell—but Sophie needed to know. So even though it was a risk, she closed her eye
s and let her mind replay some of the voices that had been haunting her.
And as soon as Gethen’s voice rattled through her brain, the monster tried to stir.
“No difference with the echoes,” she said, gulping down deep breaths to take back control. “I’m fine,” she promised Elwin. “I was careful.”
He still insisted on checking her again, just to be sure.
“I must’ve chosen the wrong song,” Flori whispered, mostly to herself. She stared out the windows at the darkening sky. “I’d like to try again.”
“Not tonight,” Elwin told her.
“No,” Flori agreed, her gray eyes focusing on Sophie. “I think this might require a new song to be written. It may take me some time, but . . . when it’s ready, will you trust me to try it?”
“Of course,” Sophie promised.
And that seemed to settle things.
And not just with Flori’s singing.
The bodyguard debate also came to an end, with everyone agreeing that Sophie’s first training session would be taught by Sandor and would focus on daggers. The lesson would last one hour and one hour only, and when it was finished, Sophie would hail Elwin to have him come check her.
Assuming there were no setbacks, the next day she’d be allowed to do the same, and if she made it through three days she’d be allowed to extend her training to an hour and fifteen minutes—then to an hour and a half if she made it another three days without problems, and to an hour forty-five if she had three more good days after that.
It was a far cry from the intense eight-hour marathon sessions that Sophie had originally envisioned.
But she wasn’t going to complain.
She was just going to squeeze the most she possibly could out of whatever training time they gave her.
Nothing could dampen her mood.
Not the dozens of horrible elixirs she had to choke down.
Or the slightly painful finger stretches Elwin showed her how to do.
Not even when she had to spend seventeen minutes and twenty-nine seconds—yes, she counted—standing at the top of the stairs outside her bedroom while Sandor, Tarina, and Flori performed the most ridiculously exhaustive security sweep in the history of the universe. They checked places no enemy could possibly be hiding, like inside her desk drawers and behind her bookshelves and on top of her bed’s fancy canopy. They also inspected every single one of the thousands of flowers woven into her carpet for any trace of a footprint. And when they finally finished, they lowered the shades over her walls of windows and made her promise to stay away from the glass, which felt both unnecessary and unsettling.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 36
