“You can’t possibly know that.” But Vika whipped her hand away awfully fast for someone who didn’t believe.
Silveny took advantage of her distraction, jerking her harness so hard she knocked Vika and Timkin to the muddy ground of her enclosure. They dropped their reins as they fell, and Silveny galloped toward the opposite end of her pasture, dragging Stina through the mud until she finally let go.
Sophie raced to the purple bars and had just enough time to reach through and unhook the buckle on Silveny’s harness before the others caught up. The grateful horse spread her wings and flew to the highest part of her barred dome.
Vika snatched Sophie’s wrist with a mud-streaked hand. “You wretched girl! Call her down right now.”
“Why do you need my help? Aren’t you the expert?”
Keefe snickered. “Ooh, good one, Foster!”
“Shut up,” Vika hissed, tightening her grip.
“Unhand her,” Sandor growled, and Sophie heard a scrape of metal, like he’d unsheathed his sword.
Vika glared at him for a second, then shoved Sophie back, sending her tumbling into Fitz’s arms.
“You okay?” he asked, flashing his movie-star-worthy smile as he steadied her.
She was fairly certain her face was on fire as she pulled away and mumbled, “Yeah. Thanks.”
“How exactly are you communicating with the alicorn?” Alden asked her.
“I’m not sure. Sometimes it’s just a bunch of images flashing through my mind. Sometimes it feels like she’s filling my head with her emotions, making me feel them too. Sometimes it’s a word. But it’s—”
“A word?” Alden interrupted.
Timkin’s laugh was a sharp, ugly bark of sound. “You expect us to believe that?”
“How else would I know her name’s Silveny?”
Silveny nickered.
“That could just be a coincidence,” Stina argued. “I bet she’d respond to anything. Silvery. Filveny. Zilveny.”
Silveny didn’t so much as glance at her.
“Silveny,” Timkin whispered.
Not only did Silveny nicker, she dive-bombed all three of them, making them drop to the mud to avoid being knocked over.
Alden smiled. “I think that settles that.”
Vika tried to wipe the dirt off her face but only succeeded in smearing it more as she stumbled to her feet. “I don’t see why this matters. I’m sure the Council’s already given the order for us to take her, Alden.”
“Doesn’t Silveny get any say?” Sophie asked him.
“Of course she doesn’t!” Timkin shouted. “Animals live where we tell them to live. They’re not intelligent creatures.”
“Surely I must have misheard you, Timkin,” Alden said quietly. “None of us would ever imply a lack of respect for a living being. Especially someone with noble aspirations.”
Timkin’s features bent into thin, angry lines, but he said nothing more than, “Indeed.”
Alden nodded. “Then I’m sure you would also agree that if Silveny can communicate her wishes, we should respect them. The question is: What does she want?”
“She wants to stay here,” Sophie announced.
Stina rolled her eyes. “Please. She’s just making that up so she can keep the alicorn for herself.”
“I think the mud streaking your clothes makes it pretty clear how Silveny feels about you,” Grady pointed out.
“But we rehabilitated the other alicorn,” Vika argued.
“Not you, personally. And that was before we had Sophie,” Alden reminded her. “Her unique abilities make her better equipped.”
“You can’t be serious—”
“I am, I’m afraid. The Council wants Silveny to receive the best care, and since Sophie has a means of communicating with her far beyond your capabilities, Havenfield is the better choice.”
Vika’s eyes narrowed and she stalked as close to Alden as the bars of the enclosure would allow. “You can bet the Council will be hearing about this.”
“Of course they will. I’ll be sending them a full report as soon as I get home. That’s part of my job as an Emissary. As is rendering final decisions in matters such as this.”
“Unbelievable,” Timkin muttered as he fished a pathfinder from his muddy cape and held the slender silver wand up to the sunlight. “Trusting that freak of a child. No wonder I’m hearing whispers of the Council’s incompetence.”
The Hekses leaped away before anyone could respond.
Alden released a long, heavy sigh.
Sophie stared at the ground, wishing there were a hole she could crawl in to hide. Instead, she called Silveny down and stroked her gleaming mane. Calm. They’re gone.
“Is the unrest getting worse?” Grady asked Alden.
Sophie tugged out an eyelash as Alden hesitated to answer.
Crimes like kidnapping were supposed to be unheard of in the elvin world—as were rebellions and underground groups and conspiracies to burn down the human world. Her and Dex’s dramatic escape had been the rude awakening no one wanted, and as the weeks passed with no sign of the culprits, more and more people had begun questioning the Council as leaders.
“We’re doing our best to keep it under control,” Alden finally replied. “Though if we had another Emissary . . .”
“You know I can’t.”
“I know. And the alicorn will help tremendously. She could solve everything.”
Silveny snorted, and Sophie couldn’t help wondering how such a stinky creature could be so important.
“I do have some information for you about that other matter,” Alden added, leading Grady out of earshot—not that Sophie couldn’t have guessed what they were talking about. It always had something to do with her.
“You okay?” Biana asked, coming to stand beside her. “You’re not a fr—you’re not what they called you. You know that, right?”
Sophie shrugged, not looking at her. She’d been called a freak her whole life. And she couldn’t care less what Stina said. But ever since the kidnapping, she’d been hearing it from other people too. Everyone knew about her strange abilities now—and her mysterious connection to the Black Swan—and no one seemed to know what to do with that information.
“Biana’s right,” Fitz said, dragging her out of her gloomy thoughts. “Don’t let what they said get to you.”
We all think your talents are awesome.
Sophie was proud of herself for not jumping as Fitz’s deep, accented voice filled her head.
Fitz had helped her pull herself back from the light when she was fading, and ever since, he’d become the only Telepath who could transmit thoughts into her mind. He still couldn’t hear what she was thinking—something she was eternally grateful for—and she could block him if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to.
Though . . . his thoughts did feel strangely wrong. Too loud and too warm, like his transmissions were mixed with a hair dryer whirring in her head. But he probably had to make his thoughts stronger to get past her blocking, and she’d gladly take the slight headache to keep their secret conversations.
Thanks, she transmitted back. You really don’t think it’s weird that I can talk to Silveny?
Are you kidding? I wish you could teach me how to do it.
Sophie smiled. I can try.
“Hey—what did I tell you two about secret Telepath conversations?” Keefe asked as he shoved his way between them. “Unless you’re talking about me, keep it out loud.”
Fitz laughed. “Keefe just wishes he could swap secret messages with you.”
“Please, I don’t need your little mind tricks. I can feel Foster’s secrets”—he fanned the air around her—“and I feel some pretty intense emotions right now.”
“Probably because I’m wondering if I should strangle you or beat you with my shoe!”
“The shoe would be funnier,” Fitz jumped in.
Sophie smiled. “Might be a bad idea to do it in front of a member of the nobility, though.�
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“Nah—my dad would understand. I’m pretty sure he dreams about doing the same thing.”
Keefe smirked at both of them. “Bring it on.”
“I’d be careful if I were you, Keefe,” Biana warned. “Remember, Sophie’s an Inflictor.”
Biana said it with a smile, but it still made Sophie want to hide. If she lost her temper, she could seriously hurt somebody—and she had no idea how to control it. She’d almost done it to the Hekses when they were trying to take Silveny. And she’d accidentally incapacitated Sandor the first time she saw him. She’d never forget the way his muscled body collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.
No one should have the ability to do that to someone. . . .
A strangely soothing warmth filled Sophie’s mind, almost like Silveny was trying to comfort her. But a horse couldn’t do that—could she?
Sophie stepped closer to the bars, stroking Silveny’s velvet nose.
Calm, Silveny transmitted.
Sophie’s eyes widened.
“Oh—I almost forgot to show you,” Biana said, holding out her wrist and breaking whatever connection Sophie and Silveny had. “Notice anything different?”
“You got your nexus off?”
Biana nodded proudly. “It unlatched yesterday, after I leaped home from shopping with my mom. That’s five weeks earlier than Fitz.”
“And she won’t let me forget it.”
Fitz had set some sort of record when his nexus unlatched when he was thirteen. Most kids were fifteen or sixteen before their concentration levels were strong enough to let them safely light leap on their own.
“At least I still beat Keefe,” Fitz said, grinning at his friend. “He’ll probably be the only one in our grade level still wearing one.”
“Hey—only because I’m a year ahead!” Keefe argued.
“Still, don’t you turn fifteen soon?” Fitz asked him.
Keefe rolled his eyes. “Not that soon. Besides, let’s not forget that Foster beat us all. Her level’s been full since we latched her new nexus on.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t count because Elwin’s making her wear it anyway,” Biana retorted. “No offense,” she added, looking at Sophie.
Sophie shrugged and stared at the full meter on the underside of her nexus. Much as she hated it, Biana was right. After she faded, Elwin had tweaked her latch so that it would only unlock when he decided she was ready, and not a second sooner.
Keefe nudged her. “So, you gonna fly us around on your new pet, or what?”
“You think she’d let me do that?”
Sophie’s mind filled with an image of her being whisked through the sky on Silveny’s back. Fly? she transmitted, sending Silveny the same scene.
Fly! Silveny transmitted back. Fly! Fly! Fly!
“Only one way to find out,” Keefe added.
“Not a chance,” Grady said as he and Alden rejoined them. “We don’t need to add ‘falling from the sky’ to Sophie’s list of injuries.”
Sophie glared at everyone as they laughed.
“You’re really lucky, Sophie,” Biana added, her eyes stretching wide as Silveny flapped her wings. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
Keefe groaned. “What is it with girls and sparkles?”
“Sparkles make everything better,” Biana informed him, and Sophie had to agree.
“You don’t think she’s amazing?” Sophie asked him.
“Eh, give me something that shoots fire any day.”
“Or stinky gas,” Fitz added, elbowing him. “A gulon maybe?”
“I am definitely a fan of gulons.”
Legend had it that Keefe had been the mastermind behind something called The Great Gulon Incident, but Sophie still had no clue what had actually transpired.
“Yes, well, we can discuss your delinquency another time, Keefe,” Alden said, reaching into the pocket of his cape and retrieving his pathfinder. “Sophie and Grady have an important day ahead of them.”
“Ooh, are you guys going to Atlantis for the eurypterid races? I hear they sometimes claw their way into the stands and . . .” Keefe’s voice trailed off when he noticed the warning look Alden was shooting him. “Oh. Right.”
Everyone became very interested in their feet.
Sixteen years ago to the day, Grady and Edaline had lost their only daughter in a tragic fire. And every year on the anniversary of the loss, they went to visit her grave.
“I’m so sorry, my friend,” Alden said, moving close enough to squeeze Grady’s shoulder.
“Me too,” Fitz added quietly, echoed by Biana and Keefe.
Grady looked away, wiping his eyes, but Sophie glanced at her friends, surprised to see how sad they seemed. Death was such a rare occurrence for elves that most of them didn’t understand it, or feel the right amount of sympathy. She was about to wonder what brought on the change when a blurry memory flashed through her mind:
A devastated Fitz, holding the small Albertosaurus she’d given him during midterms and telling her he’d been to her funeral.
She’d been so heavily drugged by her kidnappers that she had no idea how much of that was real and how much of it was a delusion she’d created as she desperately tried to call for help. But she did know that for about two weeks, everyone thought she and Dex were dead.
It was strange to imagine her friends mourning for her.
She buried the morbid thought as Biana asked, “Do you want to come over tomorrow?”
“I’m . . . not sure. I’ll let you know, okay?”
Biana nodded.
Fitz waved, and Keefe told her to have fun with her sparkly horse as Alden held his pathfinder to the light. “I’ll be thinking of you, my friend,” Alden told Grady. “And, Sophie? We’ll talk soon.”
The light pulled them away before she could ask why.
Grady stood there, staring into space, like he wasn’t sure where to go now. Or maybe he wasn’t ready.
“You don’t have to come today,” he told Sophie after a second. “It’s not an easy thing to do—”
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could squeeze away the sadness in his voice. “But I want to come.”
Grady sank into the hug, and an extra second passed before he pulled away, his eyes blinking back tears. He cleared his throat and took her hands. “Well, then, we’d better get ready.”
SIX
SOPHIE FIDGETED WITH THE SATIN sash of her emerald green dress and wondered for the tenth time if she should change. It felt wrong to visit a cemetery in something other than black, but Edaline had told her the tradition was to wear green—the color of life.
“You look beautiful,” Grady said as he peeked his head around the door to her bedroom.
She smiled. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Thanks. But I truly hate these things.” He tugged at his green velvet cloak as he stepped into her room. “Whoever decided we should wear capes was an idiot.”
He didn’t have to tell her. She’d hated the capes from the moment she’d seen her ridiculous school uniform with its stupid elbow-length monstrosity. But capes were the mark of the nobility, and even though Grady and Edaline had tried to separate themselves from that life, the Council would never let Grady fully resign. His ability as a Mesmer was too rare and important.
“Need help with yours?” Grady offered.
Sophie nodded and he grabbed the silky green cape from where she’d left it on her bed. Grady draped it across her shoulders and gathered the ends at the base of her neck. She reached for the blue halcyon clasp she used for school, but Grady stopped her, holding out a yellow-diamond-encrusted eagle soaring with a ruby rose in its talons—identical to the broach securing his own cape.
“The Ruewen crest,” Sophie whispered as he pinned it through the thin fabric.
Her Foxfire uniform bore the same seal over her heart, identifying her as part of Grady and Edaline’s family
—but having him give her the clasp, especially considering the day, made her feel choked up.
Grady cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to—”
“I’m sure.” They’d been doing this for sixteen years. She wasn’t going to let them do it alone anymore.
Unless . . .
“Do you not want me to go?”
“We always want you with us, Sophie. I’m just afraid you don’t realize how hard this will be.”
She reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. “I know. But we’re family now, right?”
“We definitely are.” He pulled her in for a hug, stroking her hair as he whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She thought about adding “Dad” at the end, but the word stuck to her tongue.
“I guess we should probably get going. I’ve already informed Sandor that he’s not coming with us—”
“He’s not?”
“Only elves are allowed near the Wanderlings. Even the Councillors leave their bodyguards behind. So he’s agreed to entrust you to our care for the next few hours.”
“Whoa—I can’t believe you got him to agree to that.”
“He protested. A lot. But I reminded him of what I can do.” The seriousness of his tone gave Sophie chills.
She rarely thought about what being a Mesmer really meant for Grady. But total mind control was definitely a powerful thing.
“And, I agreed to carry this, in case I lose my focus,” he added quietly, removing a small silver weapon from an inner pocket of his cloak.
Sophie felt all the blood drain from her face. “Where did you get a melder?”
She’d never forget the way Dex had collapsed to the ground, paralyzed and seizing up after the kidnappers blasted him with one. Looking at the palm-size gadget now, it was hard to imagine so much evil coming from a sleek, curved handle connected to a triangle of silver with a single button in the center. She hated seeing it in Grady’s hand.
Grady shoved it back into his cloak. “The Council insisted I keep one in the house as a last resort. Don’t worry, I have no plans to use it.”
She hoped not.
Then again, no one ever planned to be attacked.
“Where’s Edaline?” she asked, changing the subject before she could relive any more nightmares.
Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) Page 4
