“He’s quite the character,” Mr. Forkle agreed, heading outside to study Luzia’s illusion. “It’s a brilliant design,” he murmured, squatting to examine a few of the carefully placed mirrors.
“Then why are you frowning?” Sophie wondered aloud.
“Well, for one thing, the masking on the sky is quite thin, so it does seem like it’d be safer for Silveny and Greyfell to keep their distance—which won’t be easy to convince them to do.”
“And the other thing?” Sophie pressed.
“I’m not sure if it counts as a thing, but . . . using mirrors for camouflage this way . . . that’s the method Vespera developed.” And I realize Luzia already admitted at Alvar’s Tribunal that she used Vespera’s methods, he added telepathically. But it does make me wonder how much contact the two actually had I think it might be time to pay Luzia a visit.
Won’t that make it pretty obvious that I told you about her?
Probably—but don’t look so nervous. Luzia’s no fool. I’m sure she’s assuming you’re going to tell someone in our order. And she knows the Black Swan has no problem hiding things from the Council, so she doesn’t have any reason to be worried. I’m honestly surprised she never reached out to us before—especially when she was helping the trolls relocate their hive to Dawnheath. That had to have been a tremendous endeavor.
Do you think it’s weird that she had Alden install the gate around Everglen after she moved out? I mean . . . if the hive’s destroyed, why would he need it? And why didn’t she have that kind of security when she lived there?
I can see why that might feel significant. But it’s important to remember that our world hasn’t always been so tumultuous. Up until a few decades ago, things truly were peaceful enough that she wouldn’t have needed that level of security. I also suspect that adding the fence to Everglen was her way of normalizing the one she added at Dawnheath, as well as a means of protecting any lingering evidence that might remain of the hive. You said Mr. Vacker’s going to be searching for it?
Sophie nodded, realizing she should check in with Fitz to see if he found anything.
Cue all the flutters.
Keep me posted, Mr. Forkle told her, standing and pulling out his pathfinder. I’ll be Magnate Leto again starting tomorrow. Hail me anytime. Or stop by my office on Monday.
Monday?
He smiled. Yes, Miss Foster. Your arm has recovered nicely, and I don’t want you falling too far behind on your studies. So I think it’s time for you and Mr. Vacker to return to Foxfire.
• • •
School was the last thing Sophie felt like adding to her to-do list. But apparently it wasn’t optional. So Monday morning she found herself dressed in one of the Level Four uniforms that Flori had added secret pockets to, trying to decide which was making her palms sweatier: knowing she was about to walk onto campus trailed by her multispeciesial entourage, or knowing she was about to face a million awkward decisions about how to act around Fitz in such a public place—with Keefe watching.
And the day was every bit as disastrous as she’d imagined. Like when she stepped into the glass pyramid for morning orientation and the entire room went pin-drop silent. Or how Bo kept growling, “What are you staring at?” to everyone they passed in the halls. Or lunch, when Sophie chose to sit between Keefe and Dex because she was worried it’d look too suspicious if she sat next to Fitz, and when she’d met his beautiful eyes, he’d looked . . . super hurt. Add in the fact that she hadn’t caught up on all of her missed assignments—and the fact that her writing was still mostly illegible—and it was almost a relief when she got called into the Healing Center on her way to study hall. Guzzling gross elixirs would be way easier than trying to figure out how to apologize to Fitz without the rest of their friends noticing.
But when she got to the Healing Center, Fitz was there, leaning against the cot he’d been stuck in for all those weeks. And he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“I think we should wait in the hall and keep an eye on anyone approaching,” Grizel told Sandor and the other guards, which didn’t sound that suspicious until she shot Sophie a look that seemed to say good luck as she herded everyone back out the door, leaving Sophie and Fitz alone.
Sophie glanced over her shoulder, noting that Elwin was in his office as she moved to Fitz’s side, careful to keep a couple of inches between them. “I’m sorry. I wanted to sit next to you. It just felt like that would start a bunch of gossip—which is silly, I know. It’s not like we never sit together. I’m . . . really bad at this.”
Fitz sighed. “It’s not your fault. I thought we’d have a couple more weeks to figure stuff out before we had to be back here.”
“So did I.” She hesitated a beat and reached for his hand, letting out a relieved breath when he didn’t pull away. “I know I’m overthinking everything. I just . . .”
“I know.” He trailed his thumb over the back of her hand, causing a zillion tingles. “I’m sorry too. I’d just been looking forward to sitting next to you all day.”
Oh wow.
It was amazing she didn’t melt into a puddle of goo right there.
She might have, if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of Elwin heading toward them. And she was trying to decide what to do about the fact that she was still holding Fitz’s hand, when Fitz made the decision for her, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze before gently letting go.
“Just like old times,” Elwin announced, setting down the trays of medicine he’d been carrying. “But first, let’s see how you’re doing.”
He flashed several colorful orbs around Sophie’s arm, not looking happy about her knuckles swelling. And Fitz apparently had some similar swelling in his bad leg.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, since I heard about the crazy day you guys had with those alicorn babies. That’s why I called you in—well, that, and Lady Zillah is wondering about your echoes. Do they still stir?”
Fitz nodded, rubbing his chest. “I’m good most of the time, but big mood swings get me.”
“Pretty much the same for me,” Sophie agreed. “And I still take sedatives every night to avoid nightmares.”
Elwin reached up to muss his hair. “Well, I know this is going to sound risky, but Lady Zillah said it might help if she knew exactly how many seconds it takes before the echoes react. So do you think you could each take turns thinking about one of your triggers so I can time it? I’ll be right here to help with anything you need.”
Sophie and Fitz shared a look before Fitz hopped up on the cot and sat leaning against the wall. And Sophie had a feeling he let himself think about Alvar, because in about ten seconds he was clutching his chest and gulping down breaths.
Sophie’s reaction took a little longer.
She started with Gethen’s taunts, letting his horrible voice flood her mind—and she could feel the monster lift its head. But the beast didn’t get up, staying put through each of the other haunting voices that Sophie let join the punishing chorus. Until she dredged up the one she’d buried the deepest.
Sophie, please—stop!
The second her sister’s terrified voice rang through her mind, the monster was thrashing and kicking—and so was she.
“It’s okay,” Fitz told her, taking her hand again. “Just breathe.”
She was trying. But the monster fought back, clawing and scraping against her consciousness.
“Breathe with me,” Fitz told her, setting the rhythm—and she clung to his hand like an anchor as she let their breaths fall in sync.
Slowly, steadily, the beast skulked back to the shadows.
“The good news,” Elwin said, sounding a bit shaken as he flashed an orb of light around her, “is that I don’t see any damage. So you are getting stronger. And hopefully these readings will help Lady Zillah find an answer.”
Sophie hoped so too.
But until then, she had to stay far, far away from that memory—even if it killed her to be so close to the truth and leave it buried.
> “You okay?” Fitz asked as she chugged her medicine with trembling hands.
She nodded.
But she must not have been very convincing, because Fitz checked on her again before she went to bed that night.
Are you sure the sedative will be enough to keep the nightmares away? he asked.
I think so. Especially since Flori sang a little bit of her new song to me. She only has one verse right now, but . . . it’s crazy how the melody makes everything warm and tingly. It does seem like it might be the solution, once she figures out the rest of the verses.
Does she know how long it’ll be?
No. But she said she works on it every night while we sleep. So hopefully soon.
• • •
By the end of that first week back at Foxfire, Sophie’s life had fallen into a new pattern with school in the mornings followed by training in the afternoons with any friends who gathered at Havenfield.
Fitz always went home to Everglen, hoping to find some trace of the old troll hive. But every night he’d check in telepathically—and even though he never had any news to report, all those conversations really helped things feel less strange and scary between them.
They sat next to each other every day during lunch, and if their friends noticed, they didn’t bring it up.
Even Biana.
Even Keefe—though he wasn’t around very much. He landed in lunch detention on day two for some random prank he never bothered to explain. And his father was still insisting on having their private Empath lessons, so he had to rush home every day as soon as Foxfire ended.
And Tam had to leave Havenfield by sunset for his shadowflux lessons with Lady Zillah.
And Dex still spent most of his time with Tinker. But he’d stop by when he had completed creations to deliver, like their newly enhanced panic switches—which could now send a quick voice recording of what they were facing—and these fancy new gadgets that reminded Sophie of a twenty-sided die and unleashed a cloud of mist meant to scatter someone’s concentration.
Flori spent her days making everyone new clothes so they’d all have plenty of pockets to tuck things away in, and her nights wandering the forest in search of song lyrics. So Sandor, Tarina, and Bo took turns training Sophie, Linh, Marella, Biana, and Wylie—though the rest of them could train much longer than Sophie’s arm would let her. But whenever she had to stop early, she spent the extra time keeping Silveny and Greyfell company.
The anxious alicorns had not been happy when Sophie warned them that visiting their babies might give away their location. But they didn’t argue. Silveny seemed to realize that all the months she’d spent ignoring Sophie’s advice had nearly cost the babies their lives, and she was determined not to make the same mistake again—even if it was breaking her heart to stay away from them.
Sophie tried to keep Silveny’s spirits up by passing along the updates Tarina got every morning from the trolls who were keeping an eye on the babies. But there wasn’t a whole lot of actual news to share. Luna and Wynn were stable, but progressing slower than expected. In fact, by the end of the second week, the trolls were convinced the babies wouldn’t be hatching during the coming eclipse. Which made sense, considering how much time should have been left in Silveny’s pregnancy.
But Silveny was devastated.
And after three days of watching her mope around her pasture, ignoring food and treats and everyone, Sophie tried a new tactic.
Fly with me? she asked, pointing at the sky.
Fly? Silveny repeated, not sounding nearly as excited as Sophie wanted.
But Sophie kept pushing, sending memories of all the times they’d flown together, and reminding Silveny of how long it’d been. And when that still didn’t convince her, Sophie played her secret weapon.
Please? she asked. It might help me have better dreams tonight.
Help Sophie? Silveny said, her mind turning over the words until they shifted from a question to an answer. Help Sophie! Help Sophie! Help Sophie!
“What are you doing?” Linh asked as Sophie pulled her hair back into a ponytail and headed for the enclosure. “Are you guys going to fly?”
“That’s the plan,” Sophie agreed, and Linh let out a giddy squeal.
“Can I come too? I’m so over battle training. And Tam just left. And . . . okay, I just really really really want to fly with the pretty, sparkly horses!”
Sophie laughed and glanced at Greyfell, transmitting Linh’s request. He sized Linh up for a second, then lowered into a crouch—his way of saying sure, climb aboard—causing a whole lot more squealing as Linh sprinted into the pasture and practically leaped onto Greyfell’s muscled back.
And Silveny seemed much more excited by the idea as she bent to let Sophie climb on.
Thanks, Mama Glitter Butt, Sophie told her, wrapping her arms around Silveny’s neck as Silveny flapped her enormous wings, launching them airborne.
They didn’t fly far, just circled the pastures as the sky shifted from twilight to glittering night. A full moon lit up the sky, bouncing off the clouds as they dipped and dove and swooped through the sea of stars. And the higher they flew, the more Silveny’s heart seemed to lift, until she sounded much more like her usual self.
SOPHIE! FRIEND! FLY!
Fly! Sophie agreed.
And they did. For hours and hours until they all felt ready for a good night’s sleep.
But Grady was waiting for them when they landed. And he had a note from Mr. Forkle, which had Sophie wide awake again.
There were no clues or mysteries like in the messages the Black Swan used to leave her. Just a simple, clear instruction:
Prepare yourself. The Council has finalized your meeting with Fintan. At the end of the week, I’ll be bringing you and Fitz to his cell.
FORTY-FIVE
YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE nervous,” Fitz said, reaching for Sophie’s wrist to stop her before she could tug out any more itchy eyelashes.
“I’m trying not to be,” she promised.
After all, they’d been preparing for this moment all week.
They’d worked through hours and hours of trust exercises—which were surprisingly easy, now that all the crush stuff was out in the open between them. And they’d rehearsed different conversation tactics over and over again.
But . . . this was Fintan.
Every time Sophie thought his name, she could hear her human parents’ voices in her mind, explaining all the reasons she should never play with fire.
And yet, here she was, stepping right back into Fintan’s game.
She pushed her long sleeves up to her elbows, wishing Mr. Forkle would hurry. He was a few minutes late—and since he’d told them to dress as warmly as possible, it was getting pretty miserable waiting outside. But when they’d tried waiting inside, they’d had to deal with Edaline’s sappy smiles and Grady’s glaring, so standing in the sun in heavy clothes was a worthwhile sacrifice.
Still, Sophie wished she’d chosen something that breathed a little better than her layered gray tunic and velvet cape—plus black pants and boots and gloves and a knitted cap she still wasn’t sure if she should’ve let Vertina talk her into. Fitz had called it cute, but . . . it had a sparkly pom-pom on the top.
“Okay,” he said, leading her into the shade—which did help a little. “I was going to save this for later, but I think you need a distraction.”
“Uh . . . what kind of distraction?” she asked, very aware that they were back under the swaying branches of Calla’s Panakes tree.
Fitz’s lips curled into a shy smile. “I realized it’d been a while since I gave you a present. So I snuck over to Atlantis this morning and . . .” He reached into the pocket of his burgundy cape and pulled out a small silver box. “I really hope you don’t hate it. Biana’s always telling me I have the worst taste in gifts—but . . . I figured it’d be weird letting my sister shop for my . . . for you.”
Sophie didn’t miss that tiny slip.
But . . . had he been ab
out to call her his ‘girlfriend’?
Or his ‘hopeful’?
Because there was a big difference.
In fact, even with all their Cognate training, they’d still never addressed the questions that sat between them like a giant, gaping chasm.
Was she going to register for the match?
And if she didn’t . . . ?
“Here,” Fitz said, handing her the box.
The size and shape screamed jewelry—and Sophie’s stomach felt extra flippy as she lifted the lid and . . .
“Oh wow.”
“Do you hate it?” he whispered, sounding genuinely worried as she traced her fingers over the shimmering teal pendant.
It was shaped like a heart.
She shook her head, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t be embarrassingly mushy. “It’s . . . beautiful.”
Fitz beamed. “Here, I’ll help you put it on.”
He stepped behind her and swept her hair aside, and she was pretty sure she didn’t breathe the entire time he tied the silk cord around her neck.
They didn’t have a mirror, but she could tell the pendant hung just below her collarbone, where everyone would see it—and probably know exactly what it meant.
But . . . that was good, wasn’t it?
That was—
Someone cleared his throat, and Sophie whipped around to find Mr. Forkle giving them a raised-eyebrow look that had Fitz’s cheeks flushing adorably red.
“Sorry I’m late,” Mr. Forkle told them. “It ended up being much more difficult to switch identities today than I expected.”
Sophie frowned. “Wait—if Fintan sees you like that, he’ll know you’re still alive.”
“Which is why I won’t let him see me unless I decide I want to. This”—he gestured to his swollen face—“is a backup plan, in case we need to regain the upper hand in the conversation. A way to shock some of the bravado out of him.”
“And you’re sure we shouldn’t be joining you?” Tarina asked as she stepped out of the shadows with Bo and Flori.
Sandor and Grizel were the only guards that the Council had approved for the visit—and even they weren’t allowed inside the actual prison.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 51
