No, probably not.
Though “growing pains” was putting it somewhat mildly.
Thanks to the very public Tribunal of Luzia over the next few days—and the more private investigations into Orem’s, Alden’s, and Della’s involvement as well—there seemed to be a never-ending stream of gossip about “the Vacker legacy.”
Fitz and Biana bore it well, but Sophie could tell it was eating at them.
So it seemed especially timely when they heard from the caretakers at the alicorns’ hive that the babies’ membranes were thinning.
The next day became a constant baby watch, with Sophie and her friends—and Silveny and Greyfell—camped outside the hive. And while it definitely wasn’t a place with happy memories, Sophie found herself periodically wandering back to the last place she’d seen Tam.
She needed the reminder that even though she and her friends weren’t going to tear apart the world to find him and risk putting him in more danger—that they could never forget that Tam was gone, and never stop looking for ways to take down their enemies.
A very tentative plan was already starting to come together—but they were determined to be patient. The Neverseen pulled off their victories by being meticulous and calculating. If she and her friends were going to beat them, they needed to do the same.
In the meantime, Linh had made all of them promise that they would still try to find joy in the small victories, because that’s what Tam would want them to do. Like the moment several long hours later when two very gangly, very slimy alicorn babies burst through the gooey walls of their hive and stumbled into the world to nuzzle against their overjoyed parents.
There were so many tears and hugs and shouts of “BABY OKAY!” to echo Silveny’s transmissions that Sophie thought her heart—and head—might explode from the sheer joy of it. Even Fitz was laughing—something he didn’t do very much these days. And when Sophie went over to join him, he pulled her into a hug and spun her around, just like he had the day they’d first implanted the babies.
“You guys are good together,” Biana said later, appearing beside Sophie in Havenfield’s pastures, where the happy alicorn family had decided to stay. “And no, I’m not talking about the alicorns, so don’t try to play that game. I’m talking about the thing you and I have been very noticeably not talking about since it happened, and I think it’s high time we acknowledge it, don’t you?”
“Probably,” Sophie admitted, fighting the sudden urge to tug on all her eyelashes. “Though there’s not really anything to acknowledge right now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I hear. Why is that, by the way? I thought you’d be, like, running out to get crush cuffs first thing, once you finally stopped being oblivious and realized how long my brother’s liked you.”
“How long has he liked me?” Sophie asked—blurting out the question before she could stop it. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I don’t want to put you in the middle.”
“I guess it’s probably good if we draw that line now, before you guys get to the super-mushy stage,” Biana agreed. But she leaned in and whispered, “I know for sure he’s had a crush since we were all together in Alluveterre.”
“Really?” Sophie was dying to ask for more details. But she left it at that, going with a more important question. “You don’t mind?”
“Nope. Like I said, you guys are good together. And I’m not the only one who sees that. You seriously need to stop worrying so much about the match. You’re perfect for each other. You’ll see.”
Sophie still had her doubts. But . . . strangely enough, she was also starting to want to find out. Maybe it was selfish of her to think about something like that when Linh was having to live every day worrying about her brother, and Tam was off who knew where being stuck doing who knew what.
Or . . . maybe that was why she was more tempted than she’d been before. Maybe what was going on with Tam was also a good reminder of how quickly the game could change and something super important could be taken away. And maybe it was better to make sure there could never be any regrets—never be something she’d look back at and think, If only I hadn’t been so afraid.
The thought nestled into her brain, buzzing around for a couple more days. Until one morning over breakfast, she found herself saying, “If I wanted to register for the match, how do I do it? Is there a process, or . . . ?”
She had to stop there.
Edaline looked like she wanted to grab her and hug her, while Grady looked like he wanted to haul her upstairs and lock her in her room, and she was definitely regretting bringing it up.
But Edaline also told her, “All you have to do is say the word, and we’ll take you over straightaway.”
• • •
Sophie had walked every street in Atlantis during the desperate days she’d spent trying to rescue her human parents. But somehow she’d never noticed the shimmering crystal tower that straddled one of the widest, most bustling canals.
Half of the structure stood on one side of the dark water and half on the other, angling toward each other and merging to form a massive twisted spire. It wasn’t the tallest building on the street, or the fanciest. But it was definitely the most intimidating—probably because of the round silver medallion set into the center of the arch, embossed with a very specific symbol: a giant M shaped from two strands of DNA.
The official seal of the matchmakers.
“You okay?” Edaline asked, reaching for Sophie’s shaky hand as their carriage driver jerked the reins, making the eurypterid slow to a stop.
Sophie nodded, squinting at the runes surrounding the matchmakers’ seal. “What do those say?”
“Progress, Prosperity, Permanence, and Proliferation,” Grady told her. “The goals of every match.”
Sophie sighed. “Well, that’s romantic.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Edaline promised. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
But the thing was . . . she kind of did.
I want it to be you.
That’s what Fitz had told her.
And . . . she wanted it to be him, too—wanted them to be together, and enjoy whatever time they had before the next epic battle with the Neverseen.
She didn’t need a list to make that happen—and she’d definitely gone around and around for several more days after she’d asked Edaline about the process. But she’d decided to stop letting the fact that she’d been raised differently hold her back. So she climbed out of the silver carriage, miraculously managing not to trip over all her layers of tulle and silk.
She’d worn the frilliest, fanciest gown in her closet, figuring she might as well go all in. And it didn’t hurt that the fabric was the most perfect shade of shimmering teal.
“Okay,” Edaline said, hooking an arm around Sophie as Grady did the same on her other side. “Let’s get you registered!”
Sophie could’ve sworn she’d heard Grady mumble, “Here we go again” under his breath as they headed up the path—but it was hard to tell with the way her pulse was thrumming in her ears. The walk was probably only twenty steps, but it felt like they’d journeyed for miles by the time they reached the pair of enormous silver doors stamped with the matchmakers’ seal.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Edaline told her, hanging back a step with Grady.
Leaving it up to her.
Sophie closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Fitz’s lips on her cheek when he’d whispered, Just trust me.
And she reminded herself of the promise she’d made Linh—to seize the small victories.
It was definitely a victory when she pulled open the doors and stepped into an empty white foyer lit by an enormous crystal chandelier. Her heels clicked across the pale floor—which bore a glittering mosaic of the matchmakers’ symbol—as she headed for a curved, sweeping staircase that took her up and over, to the center of the canal. By the time she reached the final step, she was seriously regretting her wardrobe choices—until she
got a look at the glass room she’d entered and caught a glimpse of the crowd.
The room was a sea of throne-size chairs filled with perfect, beautiful people in perfect, beautiful clothes, flashing perfect, beautiful smiles. One boy even winked as Sophie scanned the room trying to figure out where she was supposed to go.
“Just take a seat anywhere you want,” Edaline explained. “Your registry pendant let them know you were here the second you walked through the door. They’ll come to us when it’s our turn.”
Sophie nodded, choosing three seats in one of the shadowy corners—but it didn’t stop people from noticing her. She was even more recognizable, thanks to the Neverseen’s show at the festival. So she got to spend the next hour discovering that she’d rather fight bloodthirsty trolls or be attacked with shadowflux than sit in a frilly dress pretending she didn’t notice that people were whispering about her.
And boy, were they whispering.
Every few seconds it was Sophie Foster, Sophie Foster, Sophie Foster.
“Sophie Foster?” a female with very thick bangs and very red lips asked.
“Yes,” Sophie squeaked—then cleared her throat and tried again. “Yeah, that’s me.”
The female nodded, giving Sophie a quick once-over before her turquoise eyes locked with Sophie’s brown ones. Her expression stayed neutral. But a tiny pucker formed between her arched brows as she said, “I’m Ceri. And I’m here to collect you.”
“Great,” Sophie said, willing her feet not to trip as she stood. “You’re not coming?” she asked Grady and Edaline when she realized they were still sitting.
Grady shook his head. “From here on out, you’re on your own, kiddo.” He smiled as he said it, but there was something sad in his tone, and she found herself bending to hug each of her parents before she followed Ceri down a glass hall lined with dozens of identical silver doors.
“I never realized there were this many matchmakers,” Sophie said, mostly to break the awkward silence.
“There aren’t.” Ceri led Sophie to the very last door and pressed her palm on a black panel in the center, triggering a soft beep before the door slid open, revealing a small, square room with mirrored walls. She didn’t follow Sophie in, telling her to take a seat in the room’s only chair and that someone would be with her shortly.
Which meant Sophie quickly discovered that it was even worse sitting all alone in a cold little room with only her panicked thoughts and an infinite number of reflections of herself for company.
She reached for Fitz’s necklace, tracing her thumb over and over the glittering heart to remind herself why she was doing this. And when that didn’t help, she finally surrendered and tugged out an itchy eyelash.
Three more had been flicked away—one even wished on, because she’d hit that low—before one of the mirrored walls split open and two females entered the room. One had dark skin, full lips, and naturally textured hair, and the other was shorter, freckled, and blond—and yet something about them seemed identical. Sophie assumed it was their matching white gowns and the fact that they both clutched a small square of glass to their chests. But when they both sat on the stools that rose out of the floor, she realized their movements were perfectly in sync—every step, every smile, every flick of their wrists or hair. Even every blink.
It was seriously eerie.
“Miss Foster,” the blond female said, and Sophie was relieved they didn’t talk in sync as well. “I’m Brisa.”
“And I’m Juji,” the other female added. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem,” Sophie assured them. “You guys are busy today.”
“We always are,” Brisa agreed.
“So let’s keep this moving. We’ve already reviewed your records,” Juji told her, “and we need to verify a few things before we proceed.”
Sophie nodded and they both tapped their screens, making them light up.
“Your listed birthplace is San Diego,” Juji noted. “That’s not in the Lost Cities.”
“Yes,” Sophie agreed. “It’s a human—Forbidden—city. It’s . . . kind of a long story.”
“So I’ve heard,” Brisa said, tilting her head to study Sophie. “I’ve only been told bits and pieces, but it sounds fascinating. I imagine we’ll need the full story by the time we get to your packets. Should provide an interesting challenge.”
“I’m quite excited, actually,” Juji agreed. “We never get anything new around here.”
“Oh, well, great.” Sophie wondered if it would be weird to say, How about you throw Fitz Vacker on the list and see what happens?
They tapped their screens again.
“Now, under family, it shows that you were born to humans originally named Will and Emma Foster,” Juji noted.
Sophie nodded, fighting off a pang of sadness.
“And obviously you’ve been adopted by Lord and Lady Ruewen,” Brisa added.
Lord and Lady?
Sophie never thought of Grady and Edaline with titles—but they were accurate, so she nodded again.
“But it looks like no one’s filled in your genetic parents,” Brisa said, tapping the screen a few more times. “What names should I put in?”
“Oh.” Sophie fidgeted in her chair. “Funny thing, but . . . I don’t know.”
Juji frowned. “You don’t know who your biological parents are?”
“No. No one’s ever told me. I’ve tried to guess a few times, but I’ve always been wrong.”
“Can’t you just ask the people who made you? The”—Brisa squinted at her screen—“Black Swan?”
“I have. But they said I’m not allowed to know—some sort of privacy thing for the donors, I guess. It’s super weird, but . . .” She shrugged.
Juji and Brisa shared a long look before Juji said, “Okay. Let’s see what happens.”
They both tapped several buttons on their screens and leaned back.
“It’s processing,” Brisa explained. “Should be just a minute.”
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t two minutes either.
Or three.
By four, Sophie’s back was drenched with sweat and she was having to sit on her hands to spare her eyelashes.
By five, even Juji and Brisa were getting fidgety. But they kept right on smiling, until their screens made a soft beeping sound and flashed red.
Red was rarely good.
“Is something wrong?” Sophie had to ask.
Juji and Brisa shared a look, before they both held up their screens to let her read the result herself.
SOPHIE ELIZABETH FOSTER IS UNMATCHABLE.
Acknowledgments
Well. I’m pretty sure you’re all plotting revenge after that ending—and I can’t say I blame you. It’s definitely my evilest collection of game changers yet. And I know it probably feels like I’m trying to torment you—but, honestly, this book was a huge labor of love. I have never poured so much of myself into anything in my life. So thank you for reading, and for sticking with me (and Sophie), and for forgiving me for leaving you with all those unanswered questions while I write the next book. I promise I’ll make book eight worth waiting for!
There’s a reason I dedicated this book to my awesome team at Simon & Schuster. Flashback truly wouldn’t exist without all the wonderful people who worked so many long hours—even weekends and holidays—to get this book edited, copyedited, proofread, formatted, and ready for the printer in time. It seriously feels like I have my own publishing army, and I’m so honored to work with such amazing people, including Liesa Abrams Mignogna—my long-suffering editor—and Katherine Devendorf, Adam Smith, Rebecca Vitkus, Elizabeth Mims, Stacey Sakal, Karin Paprocki, Mike Rosamilia, Jon Anderson, Mara Anastas, Chriscynethia Ford, Jodie Hockensmith, Lauren Hoffman, Caitlin Sweeny, Alissa Nigro, Anna Jarzab, Nicole Russo, Jessica Smith, Bernadette Flinn, Steve Scott, Michelle Fadlalla, Jenn Rothkin, Ian Reilly, Christina Pecorale, Victor Iannone, and the entire sales team. And Jason Chan always earns my eternal
gratitude for drawing the Best. Covers. Ever.
I’d also be lost without my amazing agent, Laura Rennert (and everyone else at Andrea Brown Literary and Taryn Fagerness Agency). And I think I need to hug Cécile Pournin, Mathilde Tamae-Bouhon, and everyone at Lumen Editions for all they endured in order to get this book translated for French readers.
I never would’ve made it through this impossible schedule if it hadn’t been for the brainstorming sessions, pep talks, and steady support of Faith Hochhalter, Sara McClung, Victoria Morris, Kari Olson, C. J. Redwine, and Sarah Wylie. And if I didn’t have so many fabulous teachers, librarians, and booksellers supporting the series, I wouldn’t get to have this job.
Lastly, I have to end by thanking my family. Mom and Dad, thank you for all the lunches you brought over and all the incoherent, sleep-deprived phone calls you endured (and all the other things you did—there were so many)! And, Miles, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been so patient and supportive—even suffered through desperate brainstorming sessions—and just . . . thank you. I’m hoping next year won’t be so hectic, but even if it is, I know I can always count on you. Love you!
About the Author
COPYRIGHT © 2012 BY DEVENDE PHOTOGRAPHY
SHANNON MESSENGER graduated from the USC School of Cinematic Arts, where she learned—among other things—that she liked watching movies much better than making them. She’s studied art, screenwriting, and film production, but she realized her real passion was writing stories for children. She’s the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the award-winning middle grade series Keeper of the Lost Cities, as well as the Sky Fall series for young adults. Her books have been featured on multiple state reading lists, published in numerous countries, and translated into many different languages. She lives in Southern California with her husband and an embarrassing number of cats. Find her online at ShannonMessenger.com.
KEEPEROFTHELOSTCITIES.COM
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