Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3)

by Shannon Messenger

  Marquiseire

  Candesia

  Elementine

  “But . . . these are the unmapped stars . . . ,” Sophie mumbled, holding the image closer to make sure she was seeing it correctly.

  “That’s what I thought. Weird that there’s a map of the unmapped stars, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand. I don’t know these stars. I mean . . . I do now that I’m looking at them. But I didn’t know that I knew them, you know? Not until I read them.”

  “Isn’t that how it always is when a memory gets triggered for you?” Fitz asked.

  “It is. But how could I implant a memory before I even remembered it?”

  “I don’t know. I figured you must’ve remembered it, since you knew how to find Elementine. Maybe this is where your brain pulled that information from without you realizing. So it would be like you knew it, but you didn’t know you knew it, you know?”

  Sophie wasn’t entirely sure if that sentence even made sense.

  But how could she argue with what was right in front of her eyes.

  “Was this it? Was that the only other memory I implanted?”

  “I’m still searching, so there could be more. But I definitely found one other.”

  He flipped through the pages again, stopping on a scene of a round window with black iron bars crisscrossed over it.

  “Can you read that?” Fitz asked, pointing to a square sign hanging from a nearby lamppost, right under a red circle with a wide white line.

  “It says ‘except authorized,’” Sophie told him, surprised Fitz had to ask.

  She studied the letters again, feeling her stomach tighten when she realized they actually said “eccetto autorizzati.” Which did mean the same thing.

  In Italian.

  “This is in the Forbidden Cities!” Sophie practically shouted, grabbing the journal to get a better look.

  “I figured it had to be,” Fitz agreed. “But it’s not from any of my memories, so you must’ve implanted it.”

  He was right—the memory was too sharp and clear.

  “But I don’t remember it either.”

  She also couldn’t find any other memories to connect it to, or any reason why she would’ve been thinking about a window—in Italy—during the middle of a deadly fire.

  And why would the Black Swan bother implanting the stupid window in her head in the first place?

  Then she noticed the dark stain discoloring the yellow stones around the window.

  She’d thought it was just wear and weathering. But the perfectly curved shape was unmistakable.

  The sign of the swan.

  FORTY-SIX

  WHERE IS THIS?” SOPHIE ASKED, flipping the page like it would somehow show her more of the scene.

  “I was hoping you would know,” Fitz admitted. “Seeing the memory again doesn’t trigger anything?”

  Sophie closed her eyes, willing her brain to pull the pieces together.

  “I’m not getting anything.”

  “Well, then I guess I don’t have a plan after all. I figured we’d go there and see what we can learn about the Black Swan. But that’s kind of hard to do if we don’t know where it is.”

  “And who knows if it’s even safe? Remember, last time Keefe and I tracked down one of their hideouts, there was an ambush waiting for us.” She slammed the memory log harder than she needed to. “It’s all such a mess. I can’t trust the Black Swan, and now the Council hates me and the ogres are out to get me and Eternalia is gone and Kenric . . .”

  Just saying his name ripped the hole inside her a little wider.

  “Here,” Fitz said, handing her Mr. Snuggles.

  He waved it under her nose until she took it, and she had to admit, hugging the super soft dragon did help.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “No need to apologize. If anyone deserves to freak out, it’s you. I seriously don’t know how you deal with it all.” He grabbed the memory log and flipped back to the Italian window, turning it round and round, like seeing it upside down would magically tell them which one of the dozens of cities in Italy they were supposed to go to.

  “I still feel like this is the answer,” he said quietly. “I mean, something had to trigger this, right? Your mind wouldn’t have just pulled up some random memory, would it?”

  “Who knows anymore?”

  Her sulky tone made her realize how pouty she was being.

  She took the memory log back and stared at the sign of the swan.

  It was clever the way they’d hidden it—glaringly obvious now that she knew where to look, but perfectly camouflaged to everyone else.

  She tried to think of any famous landmarks it could be a part of, but nothing seemed to fit. Sometimes she really missed the Internet. She doubted the answer was as easy as searching “round windows in Italy.” But it had worked in Paris when she was with Dex.

  “Why would they give me an image of one of their bases? And what would’ve triggered me to think of it?” she asked.

  She’d hardly been thinking about windows or Italy—or even the Black Swan—when she was racing to collect enough quintessence to save Eternalia.

  She was so terrified she could barely think straight.

  “Maybe that’s it,” she said slowly, trying to let the idea settle before she fed it any hope. “Maybe it was fear—like a panic switch.”

  She sometimes wondered how the Black Swan could send her into such dangerous situations and not seem to care what happened to her. Maybe they’d stacked her memories in a way to make her remember how to find them if she ever really needed them.

  “Why didn’t it happen the other times you’ve been in danger, then?” Fitz asked. “It’s not like you haven’t almost died a few billion times.”

  “True.”

  Plus, she hadn’t been that scared when she was with Fitz on the beach. She’d actually felt almost . . . safe. They were away from the fire, and she wasn’t alone, and Fitz was helping her and—

  “What if it was trust?” Sophie asked, sitting up straighter. “Sir Tiergan said it was our most powerful asset. And it helped me let you into my head once.”

  “That’s true! And,”—he took the memory log and turned to a blank page—“that would be awesome, because then we should be able to re-create it!”

  “Re-create what?”

  “Whatever you did to dig up that memory. We do exactly what we did that night, and hope it helps your mind dig up the missing pieces.” He stood, offering her a hand to pull her up. “How were we standing? You were behind me, right?”

  “Yeah,” Sophie said, blushing as she remembered how close they’d been.

  Somehow she managed to make her legs drag her toward him, wishing for the fiftieth time that she’d had a chance to wash away the dino drool first.

  “No—you were closer than that,” he told her. “I remember feeling more heat—body heat,” he corrected, like that somehow made it less embarrassing. “It was really cold, remember?”

  Sophie had been trying not to relive even a second of that horrible night. But if she was going to make this work, she had to take her mind back.

  She pictured the beach.

  The vibrant, glowing waves.

  The freezing ocean breeze.

  Her arms were so weary from holding the heavy stellarscope that she’d leaned on Fitz, clinging to him like he was all she had left.

  “Yeah, it was more like that,” Fitz said, making her realize she’d started to lean on him again.

  She wrapped her arms around him, resting her hands on his wrists as he pretended to hold a stellarscope.

  “I think your hands were a little higher,” he told her, “resting on top of mine.”

  She willed her palms not to sweat as she slid them into place.

  “I thin
k that’s it,” Fitz whispered.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  She could practically hear the crashing waves and see the twinkling stars. Their last safe moment, before everything went up in smoke.

  “So . . . now what?” she asked.

  “I think you have to open your mind to mine.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath and stretched out her consciousness, letting Fitz’s thoughts fill her head.

  It’s so crazy how you do that, he thought. I always try to block you—just to see if I can. But I swear you slip through faster every time.

  Sorry, Sophie transmitted.

  Stop apologizing! You have an amazing talent, Sophie. I’d give anything to be like you.

  And I’d give anything to be normal, like you.

  And that is why we trust each other.

  Was it?

  Could it really be that simple?

  Want to try implanting something, to see if you remember how? Fitz asked. Make sure you pick something I wouldn’t already have a memory of, so we can tell.

  Right.

  But she knew she had to do better than that.

  If this was about trust, she needed to tell him something she hadn’t told anyone else.

  You ready? she asked, trying to remember what she’d done that night. She knew she’d mixed brain push energy along with the transmission to make it stronger, so she focused on the warmth buzzing in the back of her mind, letting the tingling heat mix with her concentration before she pushed the memory into Fitz’s head.

  “Whoa,” Fitz breathed. “I think that worked.”

  He scrambled for his memory log and flipped to a blank page, projecting the memory Sophie had just sent him in vivid, photographic detail.

  “What is this?” Fitz asked, frowning at the scene.

  A blond woman in a purple gown stood holding a black swan.

  Sophie swallowed to find her voice. “It’s a memory I saw in Prentice’s mind—or maybe ‘vision’ is the better word. I’m not sure. All I know is . . . that’s Jolie.”

  Fitz’s eyes widened at the name, and he pointed to the swan she was holding. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “That’s what Biana and I have been trying to figure out. I haven’t told Grady and Edaline. The only other person I’ve told is Tiergan, and it was back when he thought a broken mind could never be healed, so he said it was all just random madness.”

  “Are you sure it’s not?”

  She showed him the mirrored compact, letting him trace his fingers over the constellation on the cover. She even told him about Vertina and the missing password. But if she was really going to trust him, there was one more thing she had to share.

  “You know what else this means, right?” she whispered, trying to work up the courage. “Or what it could mean, anyway.”

  Fitz shook his head, taking his eyes off the memory log to study her.

  She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. “It could mean Jolie is my mother.”

  The words seemed to vanish as soon as they left her lips, and Sophie wondered if Fitz had even heard them.

  Then he took her hand, squeezing it tight. “I get why that would be scary.”

  “Do you?” Sophie asked. “Sometimes I’m not even sure how to explain it.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure it would be super weird to find out your parents are actually your grandparents.”

  “That’s part of it,” Sophie whispered. “But also . . . I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  She picked up Mr. Snuggles again, squeezing tight as she told him, “It’s hard enough knowing that I remind Grady and Edaline of her. If they knew I was her daughter . . .”

  “You’d worry that’s the only reason they want you,” Fitz finished for her.

  Sophie nodded, burying her face in Mr. Snuggles’s soft fur.

  “If it helps, I don’t think that’s the case. They seem like they really care about you.”

  “I know. But it would still change everything.”

  “It probably would,” he admitted. “Wait—would that mean you’re related to Dex, too?”

  Sophie nodded, still not sure why that bothered her.

  She’d hoped Fitz might be able to explain it, but all he said was, “Wow.”

  Then he totally cracked up. “Dex is going to freak if that’s true,” he said between laughs.

  “If what’s true?” a painfully familiar voice asked from the doorway.

  Fitz fell silent and Sophie forced herself to turn toward the sound.

  Just as she’d feared, she found a red-faced, fuming Dex.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  IF WHAT’S TRUE?” DEX REPEATED, “And if you tell me it’s ‘nothing,’ I swear I’m going to slip an honesty elixir in your next bottle of lushberry juice.”

  “You don’t even make those,” Sophie argued, hoping it was true.

  “I can figure out how,” he promised.

  Sophie glared at Sandor, wondering what the point was of having a goblin constantly eavesdropping outside her door if he couldn’t give her a heads-up about surprise visitors. He shrugged innocently—but the glint in his eye told her he’d kept silent on purpose. Probably his punishment for the trouble she’d caused with King Dimitar.

  “Seriously, what were you guys talking about?” Dex asked. “I’m not going to ‘freak out.’”

  “It was just a joke, okay?” Fitz told him, looking like he wished he could leap out of there.

  “What kind of joke?” Dex pressed. “And what is that?”

  Sophie shoved Mr. Snuggles behind her back. “Just something Fitz brought to cheer me up.”

  “How nice of him.”

  “It was, actually,” Sophie said—a little sharper than she meant to.

  She’d been trying not to let it bother her, but . . . she’d been through a fire, a funeral, and almost been kidnapped by an ogre king, and Dex hadn’t even hailed her on her Imparter to make sure she was okay.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t come by sooner,” Dex mumbled, like he knew what she’d been thinking. “I’ve been stuck working on an assignment from the Council.”

  “Really?” Fitz asked, the same time Sophie asked, “What assignment?”

  “I’m not allowed to talk about it. But you don’t have to worry, it’s totally safe. I’m just testing some gadgets to see if I can improve them. Oh—and get this. I showed Councillor Terik my telepathy enhancer and he thought it had great potential.”

  “Seriously?” Fitz asked. “He actually thinks you can enhance someone’s abilities?”

  “No,” Dex admitted. “But he thinks I might be able restrict someone’s ability instead. I haven’t had time to tweak it yet because they needed me to finish the other weap—um, gadgets, first. But I think I know what I need to do to make that change.”

  “Why would the Council want to restrict someone’s abilities?” Fitz asked, clearly disgusted by the idea.

  Sophie was more bothered by Dex’s little slip.

  Were the Councillors making weapons?

  “Uh, because some people shouldn’t be allowed to have abilities,” Dex argued.

  “Allowed,” Fitz repeated.

  “Yeah. Allowed. Think about it. Restricting Fintan’s ability would’ve saved Councillor Kenric’s life. And his own life. And all of Eternalia.”

  “But . . . ,” Sophie started, then realized she had nothing to say.

  The Councillors had done everything they could to keep the healing safe. But they could only control the temperature, their clothes, how many people were in the room. They couldn’t control Fintan.

  “Okay, but . . . controlling people with gadgets?” Fitz asked. “That’s creepy.”

  He turned to Sophie, like he was expecting her to agree. But she was too stuck on th
e idea that the whole fire could’ve been prevented with a simple silver circlet.

  “They wouldn’t be controlling everyone,” Dex argued. “Just the people who need it.”

  “And who decides that?” Fitz asked.

  “The Council, obviously. What?” Dex asked when Fitz cringed. “I thought your family was like, the Council’s number one fan club.”

  “You clearly know nothing about my family. But I’m not saying I don’t trust the Council. I’m saying I don’t think it’s right to mess with people’s brains.”

  “Ha—this coming from a Telepath!”

  “Telepaths have rules and restrictions to follow to make sure we don’t abuse our abilities. Sounds like Technopaths need the same.”

  “Um, the Council is the one asking me to make that gadget, remember?”

  “Yeah. That’s what worries me. I think I’m going to go home and see if my dad knows about this. Want to meet up tomorrow to try again?” Fitz asked Sophie as he packed away his memory log.

  She nodded, still struggling to process the information overload from the last few minutes.

  Fitz gave one quick longing look to Mr. Snuggles as he pulled out his home crystal. Then he left him behind and stepped into the light.

  “So what was the ‘joke’ I’m apparently going to freak out about?” Dex asked the second Fitz glittered away.

  Sophie sighed and set Mr. Snuggles on her bed. “It was nothing, Dex. Really, honestly, nothing.”

  “You’re seriously not going to tell me?”

  “Not right now, okay? It’s not important, and maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m having kind of a bad week.”

  Her voice caught on the last words.

  “You’re right,” Dex said, moving closer. “I just . . . No—no excuses. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie mumbled, wiping her nose.

  He reached for her hand, then stopped halfway there, leaving his fingers dangling. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you. I begged my dad to let me help with the Everblaze—mostly so I could make sure you were okay. But he said I wasn’t experienced enough to handle quintessence. So I stayed up all night, watching my panic switch in case you called me. I even kept my shoes on so I wouldn’t have anything to slow me down. But you never called.”