“Silveny?” Sophie whispered.
The alicorn nickered.
“What did you say?” Edaline asked.
Sophie shook her head to clear it. “I think her name is Silveny.”
Silveny nickered again.
“Wait—you can speak to her with words?” Grady asked.
“Sometimes she repeats the words I transmit—but this didn’t feel like that. This was more like she spoke to me in her own language and I translated it.”
For a second they both just stared at her. Then Grady laughed. “The wonders of your talents never cease.”
Sophie tried to smile, but her stomach turned sour.
Being a Polyglot—able to understand any and all languages—was another talent that had been triggered during her kidnapping. A third special ability. She should probably be proud to have so many skills, but she couldn’t help worrying about what her abilities meant. And what she’d be expected to do with them.
A haunting voice whispered from her memories: You’re their little puppet.
“You okay, Sophie?” Edaline asked, a thin worry line between her brows.
“Yeah, just tired.” As the words left her mouth she realized they were true. Every part of her ached, and remnants of her headache still pulsed behind her eyes. “I think I’m going to bed.”
She could tell Grady and Edaline weren’t convinced, but they didn’t press the issue. She stroked Silveny’s silky nose, promised to see her in the morning, and headed to her bedroom, which took up the entire third floor of Havenfield.
Her room was dark—lit only by the moonlight streaming through the walls of windows. She lingered in the doorway, snapping her fingers and waiting for the crystal stars that dangled from the ceiling to flood the room with light before she went any farther.
Sandor had already done his nightly sweep of her room to check for intruders—but she still scanned every nook and shadow, searching for any sign that someone had been there besides her. Other than a badly chewed shoe—Iggy’s handiwork—everything was in its place. Not even a single petal on the flowers woven into her carpet had been touched.
Satisfied, she closed her door, changed into her pajamas, and sank into her enormous canopy bed, stretching her weary muscles as she did. She snuggled her face against Ella, the bright blue stuffed elephant she couldn’t sleep without, and snapped her fingers again, switching off the lights. Iggy took his place on her pillow, curling his tiny gray body into a ball and within seconds he was snoring like a chain saw. Sophie scratched his fuzzy tummy, wishing she could fall asleep so easily, and clapped her hands to lower the thick shades across her windows.
She’d hoped to close her eyes and dream of sparkly winged horses flying through a bright blue sky. Instead, black-cloaked figures haunted her mind, snatching her from the shadows and dragging her away in a drugged haze. Sharp bonds sliced her wrists and ankles as someone shouted questions she didn’t know the answers to. Then fiery hands seared her skin and ghostly whispers swirled through the blackness.
They would find her.
She would never escape them again.
FOUR
IT WAS ONLY A DREAM, Sophie tried to tell herself as she wiped the cold sweat off her forehead. But her skin throbbed from the memory of the pain, and she could still smell the noxiously sweet sedatives that had burned her nose. And that voice . . .
She would never forget that voice.
She shivered as she crawled out of bed, tiptoeing across the carpet and pressing her ear against her smooth wooden door. Her racing heart slowed when she heard Sandor’s steady breathing on the other side. Deep down she really was grateful for his protection. She just wished she didn’t need him.
Dex didn’t have a bodyguard. He’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Sophie still felt horrible about that. She was the one they’d been after, because they’d wanted to see what she could do.
But . . . what did they think she could do?
The question haunted her more than the nightmares, and she padded to her desk to retrieve the only thing she knew would calm her down.
The silk-wrapped bundle had been tucked safely at the back of the bottom drawer and she didn’t remove the cloth until she’d hidden herself under her covers. The cool silver sphere turned warm at her touch, and the word SPYBALL glowed in golden letters, casting a dim light in her little cave of bed sheets.
Sophie closed her eyes, needing a second before saying the names she’d carefully memorized—the names the Council had forbidden her to know.
“Show me Connor, Kate, and Natalie Freeman,” she whispered, opening her eyes as the Spyball flashed and three figures came into focus in the center of the orb.
Her mom looked thinner, her sister looked taller, and there were streaks of gray in her dad’s hair that Sophie didn’t remember him having—but it was them. Sitting around a dinner table in some faraway part of the world, eating fettuccini like the perfect happy family. With no idea she even existed.
It was what she’d wanted for them—what she’d begged for. To be erased, so they wouldn’t have to miss her in their new lives. But it wasn’t easy being forgotten. Especially since she couldn’t forget them.
She watched until her eyes blurred with tears. Then she smeared them away and whispered, “Show me Mr. Forkle.”
The Spyball turned black and flashed the word she was getting very tired of:
UNKNOWN.
Her grip tightened on the sphere, trying to squeeze it into submission. She knew it wasn’t his real name, but part of her kept hoping the Spyball would somehow figure out his real identity. He was her only link to the Black Swan. The one who’d rescued her and Dex when they’d been taken. The one who’d triggered all of her new abilities. He’d even posed as her next-door neighbor when she lived with her human family, and was probably the one who planted the secrets in her head.
He had all the answers she needed.
But he didn’t want to be found.
She wrapped the Spyball back in the cloth and returned it to its hiding place. The drawer above it held a thick teal book, which she removed next, along with another silk bundle. She sank to the floor, leaning against the side of her desk as she unwrapped the bottle of moonlight. The pale glow made it just bright enough to see, without letting Sandor know she was awake.
Her fingers traced the etched lines of the silver bird on the cover. A moonlark.
Seeing it gave her chills every time.
Alden had given her the memory log as a way to chronicle her dreams and keep track of any memories that weren’t hers. But since the kidnapping she’d been using it to conduct her own investigation into the Black Swan. She kept hoping they’d left clues in her memories that would tell her how to find them.
The problem was, she had no idea how to access any of the secret information they’d planted. All the times she’d had “flashes,” there’d been something to spark the hidden memory—usually a note or gift the Black Swan had given her. Without anything to trigger the flashback, she was stuck wading through thirteen years of memories—and thanks to her photographic memory she had a lot of memories to sort through. But she’d been focusing on two incidents that felt like they had to be key.
The first was when she was five. She’d woken up in the Emergency Room, and the doctors told her she’d fallen and hit her head and her neighbor had called 911. From that moment on she’d been able to read minds. She knew now that Mr. Forkle had triggered her telepathic abilities that day. What she didn’t know was why. Five was incredibly young to manifest a special ability, and the talent had made it much harder for her to blend in with humans. So why trigger it then? And why couldn’t she remember what happened?
The second incident was when she was nine. Again she’d ended up in the hospital, this time for a severe allergic reaction. The human doctors never figured out what caused it, but a few months ago she’d found out the hard way that she was deathly allergic to limbium, a special compound that affected cert
ain areas of the brain. She even had to wear a vial of an antidote Elwin had created in case she accidentally consumed any. Only elves knew how to make limbium, but she knew now that she’d had contact with at least one elf back then without realizing it—and the symptoms of both reactions had been the same. So someone must have given her limbium. But who? And why?
Two blurry spots in her past. Both times when the elves had clearly interfered with her life. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
The kidnappers hadn’t been able to wipe away her memories—but the Black Swan made her. And they’d had no problem planting secret information in her head. So couldn’t they take some away?
She needed those memories back. Deep in her subconscious there had to be something left, a clue that could trigger some tiny piece they missed. She just had to find it.
Iggy flitted over to her leg, curling up on the top of her knee as she turned to the first blank page in the memory log.
Come on, brain. Give me something useful this time.
“STILL HAVING TROUBLE SLEEPING?” ELWIN asked, squinting through thick iridescent spectacles as he squatted in front of her. The morning sun streamed through the glass walls of the living room, where Sophie sat on the sleek white couch. “Those dark circles are starting to look like bruises.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
He lowered his glasses to study her. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Her mind flashed to her dizzy spell the day before, but she looked away and shrugged. She was tired of being tested and watched and fussed over. Besides, if something were wrong with her, Elwin would’ve found it by now. His glasses could see right down to her cells.
Elwin heaved a sigh as he stood, looking incredibly out of place with his lime green, gremlin-covered tunic in the elegant, pristine room. Havenfield usually had a few books and gadgets strewn about, leaving splashes of color. But Edaline had been on a cleaning rampage, trying to keep herself distracted.
“Look up,” Elwin instructed, slipping on his glasses again.
Sophie obeyed, and her eyes caught the light from the cascading crystals of the chandelier in the center of the room. It felt like the colored flash seeped into her brain, making her head throb.
“You all right?” Elwin asked, as she flinched.
“Why? Do you see something?”
Elwin frowned and leaned closer, squinting at her forehead. “No, everything looks normal.”
She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Everything looked normal.
Everything was normal.
She was just tired from the sleepless night.
“You really need to rest,” Elwin said, echoing her thoughts. “Maybe you should try some slumberberry tea before bed.”
“No sedatives.”
“It’s just tea—”
“No sedatives.” She’d lost weeks of her life to a drugged haze while she was held hostage. She never wanted to feel that way again.
Elwin sank next to her on the plush couch. “Fine. We can let the insomnia go for now. But if you don’t start sleeping, we are going to have to come up with a plan. Understood?”
He waited for her to nod.
“Good. And I want to check on you in a couple of weeks. School will have started by then, so just come by my office. I’ll have your usual bed ready.”
Sophie glared at the ground. Of course she had to visit the Healing Center during the first week of school. Her friends would tease her relentlessly about it—especially Keefe.
“Glad you’re excited to see me again.” Elwin winked as he stood and pulled out his pathfinder.
She opened her mouth to apologize, but a swell of panic surged into her mind and knocked her words away.
“What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I think something’s wrong with Silveny.” She stumbled to her feet and raced toward the arched, golden door of Havenfield’s main entrance.
Sandor jumped in front of her. “You must stay inside if there’s trouble.”
A fresh surge of terror poured into her mind, cold and sharp. “But Silveny needs me.”
When he didn’t budge, she bolted for the back door. Sandor growled, sounding so much like an angry bunny rabbit Sophie couldn’t help smiling as she slipped outside and took off through the pastures.
Sandor chased after her, shouting for her to come back as she ran past pens filled with triceratops and wooly mammoths, and one with some sort of enormous beetle-looking creature that must have arrived in the night. The intensity of Silveny’s panic increased with every step, and when Sophie crested the final hill, her heart felt like it dropped into the pit of her stomach.
A thick black harness bound the gleaming horse’s wings, and three figures in dark hooded capes stood inside her enclosure, dragging Silveny away.
FIVE
STOP!” SOPHIE SCREAMED AS HER whole body started to shake. Her vision dimmed and blackness clouded her mind—but Sandor grabbed her arm and yanked her behind him, and the jarring motion pulled her out of the frenzy.
“Who goes there?” Sandor demanded.
“I don’t answer to you, Goblin,” the taller figure called in a dry, snooty voice.
Sandor drew a handful of star-shaped blades from his pockets, a bit like ninja stars, but with longer points and spiraled edges. “You have three seconds to identify yourselves or I will use these—and I assure you my aim is flawless.”
“What’s going on here?” Grady shouted as he rushed up behind them. He put one hand protectively on Sophie’s shoulder as he squinted at the figures. “Vika? Timkin? Is that you?”
One of the figures tossed her hood back, sweeping her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. “Who else would it be?”
The last of the dark fog cleared from Sophie’s mind, leaving traces of a headache.
It wasn’t them.
Though the Hekses were almost as bad. Especially since Sophie knew who the third figure was even before she swept back her hood, revealing a scowling face and a mass of frizzy brown curls.
“Stina,” Sophie grumbled, glaring at the girl who went out of her way to make her life miserable at school. “What are you doing here?”
Stina tugged on Silveny’s harness. “We’re here to collect the alicorn so it can be properly rehabilitated.”
Calm, Sophie transmitted as Silveny’s panic flooded her mind. I won’t let her take you.
She was amazed Silveny had even let them get close enough to attach the reins. Clearly she needed to teach the glittering horse how to recognize pure evil.
“I wasn’t aware that had been decided,” Grady said, tightening his grip on Sophie’s shoulder as she tried to step forward.
“Please, you didn’t think they’d have you rehabilitate the alicorn, did you?” Timkin asked as he jerked Silveny’s reins toward him. “A noble creature deserves a noble trainer.”
“Last I heard, your wife was the only one appointed to the nobility,” Grady corrected. “And only as a Regent, not an Emissary.”
“Give it time,” Timkin growled, yanking Silveny’s reins so hard he wrenched the frightened horse’s neck.
Regent, Emissary, noble—Sophie didn’t care. “You’re hurting her!” she screamed as she lunged toward the enclosure.
Sandor blocked her.
“We’re doing nothing of the sort,” Vika snapped back
“I can feel her pain,” Sophie insisted.
Stina laughed her high, wheezy snicker. “Last I checked, empathy wasn’t an ability your creators gave you.”
“Last I checked, you hadn’t manifested any abilities at all,” Sophie spit through gritted teeth. “And I don’t have to be an Empath. I can feel her emotions with my mind.”
Timkin snorted. “That’s impossible.”
“If it were coming from anyone else, I’d agree with you,” a voice with an unmistakably crisp accent announced. “But you’re forgetting how remarkable Sophie is.”
Sophie spun a
round, relieved when she found four figures still glittering from their leap into the pasture. Alden, tall and regal in his dark blue cape, stood beside a beautiful girl Sophie’s age with long dark hair. On his other side were two teenage boys, one with dark hair and impossibly teal eyes, and one with carefully disheveled blond hair and his trademark smirk.
Biana and Fitz stared in wonder at Silveny.
Keefe grinned at Sophie. “Yeah, Foster’s always doing crazy things no one can understand. It’s how she keeps her sense of mystery.”
“Lord Alden,” Timkin said, lowering his hood and shaking his black hair as he dipped an exaggerated bow. “An honor, as always.”
“No need for ceremony, Timkin.” Alden turned to Grady. “I’m sorry to be late. I’d hoped to get here before the Hekses arrived. But Fitz, Keefe, and Biana insisted on seeing the long-lost alicorn, and someone needed time to fix their hair.”
“Hey, a guy’s gotta look his best for the ladies.” Keefe patted the back of his head. “Right, Foster?”
Sophie ignored him—though she could feel her cheeks blushing. She turned to Alden. “Please, you can’t let them take Silveny.”
“He doesn’t answer to you,” Stina announced. “He answers to the Council, and I’m sure they’ve told him to give her to us.”
“That was their plan,” Alden admitted. “The Heks family has had tremendous success rehabilitating unicorns using their empathic abilities, and it was Vika’s grandmother who rehabilitated the alicorn in the Sanctuary. So it seems only logical to let them prepare Silveny.”
“But she hates them!”
Silveny whinnied, like she agreed.
“Can you really feel what she’s feeling?” Alden asked.
“Yes. Right now she’s scared and angry and wants to get away from them.”
“She’s making that up.” Vika dragged Silveny close enough to put her hand on her shimmery neck. “I feel nothing of the sort—and I actually am an Empath.”
An image flashed into Sophie’s mind, and she couldn’t help grinning. “Silveny wants to bite your hand.”
Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) Page 3
