Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3)

by Shannon Messenger

  “I’m not going to drag you into danger, Dex.”

  “But I want you to. That’s why I made you that ring. And I’m sorry I let the Council’s assignment keep me from checking on you. I should’ve made time—though I also wasn’t at the planting, so I didn’t know about King Dimitar until today. That’s why I rushed over.”

  “Why weren’t you at the planting?”

  “Councillor Terik needed all the gadgets back by this morning, so he could pass them on to the next Technopath—and they needed a ton of work.”

  “You can stop calling them gadgets, Dex. I know they’re weapons.”

  He hesitated before he said, “Not all of them. Besides, don’t you think it’s good that the Council is realizing they need to be prepared? My dad said that if they’d had a batch of frissyn on hand, most of Eternalia would still be standing.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  But if the elves needed weapons . . .

  She sat on the edge of her bed and Dex sat beside her—not so subtly knocking Mr. Snuggles to the floor in the process.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You look . . . pretty awful.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No, I just mean . . . you can talk to me, you know. Maybe I can help?”

  Sophie wished he could. But unless he knew how to find a random window in Italy . . .

  “Wait,” she said, rushing to her desk and digging through the drawers.

  If she wanted to learn about anything human, she was going to need to access human information.

  She pulled out her old iPod and switched it on, showing Dex how it said Searching on the screen. “I know this is probably going to sound weird, but do you think there’s any way you could make this pick up human signals from where we are?”

  He’d already made it solar powered a few months back. Maybe he could use his ability to amplify the antenna or something.

  Dex traced his fingers along the screen. “What kind of signals?”

  “Anything. Satellite. Wi-Fi. I just need to access the Internet. Remember how I used it to find the bridge we needed when we were in Paris?”

  “Yeah, and I still can’t believe that clunky machine was able to help us. But”—he flipped the iPod over and squinted at the back—“I can sense a receiver in here, and it’s super weak. I’m sure if I boost that it’ll pick up whatever you want. It might take me a few days, though. Councillor Terik wanted that ability restrictor as soon as possible.”

  “A few days is fine,” she told him—though she hoped it would be sooner.

  And that there was a FamousRoundWindowsInItaly.com, complete with detailed directions.

  But even if there wasn’t, she was going to find that building.

  After Dex left, Sophie spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make a dent in the other half of her punishment: cleaning and organizing Edaline’s office.

  She was up to her elbows in tiny silver butterflies when someone behind her snapped their fingers, making all the shimmering insects spring to life and fly around her.

  “Whoa, too bad those aren’t spiders or stinkbugs or something,” Keefe said from the doorway. “I could cause some serious chaos.”

  “I’m sure you could,” Sophie agreed, watching the butterflies flit and flutter. “It really would’ve been a beautiful wedding, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Keefe agreed. “But robotic spiders would’ve been cooler. They could’ve put them under everyone’s chairs and triggered them during the vows.”

  “Wow—you should be a wedding planner.”

  “Nah. I’ll save it for my own wedding. Make my bride feel even luckier.” He winked.

  “So what’s up?” Sophie asked, before the conversation got any weirder.

  “You don’t know why I’m here?”

  “Should I?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t you get one of these?”

  He stumbled through the maze of boxes and handed her a tiny scroll.

  The wax seal had been broken—split in half from when Keefe must’ve opened it.

  But Sophie could still perfectly make out the sign of the swan.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?” SOPHIE asked, not sure if she should feel excited or terrified. Mostly she felt confused.

  Especially when Keefe told her. “I found it in my cape pocket this morning—no idea how it got there. You didn’t get one?”

  She checked her pockets to make sure, surprised at how disappointed she was when they were empty. She felt even worse when she read the Black Swan’s message:

  Careful plans have now been changed

  So a meeting must be arranged.

  In three days time, when the evening star ascends

  Find us where the lost have no end.

  “They want to meet with you,” Sophie mumbled, reading the message again to be sure.

  “I know—they’re finally including me on the team! Hope they know this means their little rule book just went out the window—and the first change I’ll be implementing is clearer stinking directions. Any idea ‘where the lost have no end’?”

  “Probably in the Wanderling Woods, by my tree. They’ve left me notes there before.”

  “And the evening star ascends . . . ?”

  “Right after sunset,” Sophie finished.

  “Cool. Party with the Black Swan in three days. Bring your dancing shoes, Foster. And maybe try to look a little less miserable than you do right now, because it’s a serious bummer. Come on, this is good news!”

  “Is it?” she asked. “How do you know it’s not a trap?”

  “I don’t,” Keefe admitted. “But even if it is, remember: Last time we met with them you got your abilities fixed and that Forkle dude gave you some answers.”

  “And then we almost died,” she reminded him.

  “Details, details.” He laughed when she didn’t smile. “I’m kidding, Foster. I do realize it’s a risk. But I think it’s worth it—especially since they want us to meet in the Wanderling Woods. I mean, how bad could that be?”

  “Well, for one thing, they only gave a note to you. Not me. Don’t you find that suspicious?”

  “That is weird,” Keefe admitted. “When was the last time you checked the cave?”

  “Not since we realized they had a leak.”

  “Then maybe there’s a note there waiting for you. That would make sense, if you think about it. Sandor’s got so many security things around here, the cave is probably the closest they can get.”

  “Maybe . . .”

  “Gee, try to sound less excited. Actually, never mind. Get your shoes on—we’re going to the cave. And get ready for an epic ‘I told you so’ when we find your note waiting.”

  Keefe kept true to his word, and his “I told you so” was so loud, it was still echoing around them as Sophie unrolled the tiny scroll. Her note showed the same instructions—but it also included an extra verse:

  The days ahead will be dark and dour.

  You must not fear yourself or your power.

  “Not cool—I didn’t get a present with mine,” Keefe complained as he unhooked a familiar black magsidian swan charm from where it had been latched through the paper.

  Magsidian was a rare mineral only the dwarves could mine, and it had the ability to affect certain forces, depending on how it had been cut. The last time they’d used the charm, it had steered the needle of Sophie’s compass toward the Black Swan’s hideout.

  She had no idea what they’d need it for this time—but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

  “Do you really think we should trust them?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder like she expected a fleet of dwarves to pop out of the sand.

  “You most definitely should not,” Sandor interrupted, to neither of
their surprise.

  Sophie was honestly shocked he’d kept quiet as long as he had. Other than a few squeaky sighs, he hadn’t even argued about them going down to the caves. But he was back in full-fledged Overprotective Bodyguard mode as he added, “They’ve already proven that they cannot ensure your protection. I will not let you blindly follow these instructions!”

  “But they gave us three days to prepare,” Keefe reminded him. “And they told us where we’re going. I’m betting they knew you were going to freak out about this. So now you can do whatever obsessive safety stuff you want to do first.”

  Sandor couldn’t argue with that logic. But he still mumbled, “I do not like it.”

  “I don’t either,” Sophie admitted. “I mean, why reach out to us now, after all these weeks of silence?”

  “I don’t know—you did just tick off the ogre king and almost start a war,” Keefe said with a smirk. “Maybe they decided you shouldn’t be left to your own devices.”

  Sandor released another squeaky sigh. “That almost makes sense.”

  “Of course it does!” Keefe told him.

  Next thing Sophie knew, Sandor and Keefe were coming up with a plan. She tried to listen, but mostly she kept rereading the Black Swan’s note, wondering if they knew something she didn’t.

  One line in particular stood out from the others:

  The days ahead will be dark and dour.

  Despite the Black Swan’s prediction, nothing dark or dour happened during the next three days.

  Sandor haunted Sophie’s every move, even though all she did was organize more trunks of wedding decorations in Edaline’s office—finding nothing useful, interesting, or related to the Black Swan in any of them—and hang out in her room.

  Dex was too busy working on the ability restrictor to visit. But he hailed her every night, and didn’t even freak out—too much—when she told him about the meeting with the Black Swan. He did, of course, ask if he could go. But Sophie told him the same thing she’d told Fitz and Biana: She couldn’t risk scaring the Black Swan away.

  Biana tried to convince Sophie that she could sneak along as a Vanisher, but since she couldn’t stay invisible for longer than a few minutes, she had to admit she couldn’t handle it. She stopped coming over as often, so she could practice vanishing with Della. Which worked out well because Fitz wanted to work with Sophie on triggering her memories.

  He’d stop by every afternoon to test new trust exercises, but nothing seemed to work—even when he had her stand on a chair and fall backward into his arms. He did catch her, without even bruising her. But all it earned them was some serious teasing from Keefe, who’d showed up just in time to find Fitz cradling her.

  Keefe spent the rest of the day begging for a turn and promising he’d only drop her once.

  It was frustrating and discouraging—but somehow comforting at the same time. Like life had found a path back to normal, despite school being canceled and news of the Councillor nominations trickling in.

  Most of the nominees Sophie had never heard of. But she was surprised to hear Dame Alina’s name in the mix.

  “Do you think she’ll win?” Sophie asked Grady when she finally caught him at breakfast on the third morning.

  With all noble assignments on hold during the mourning period, Grady had been working long hours in Eternalia, helping the gnomes organize their cleanup project. Apparently they were saving all the shards of jewels to build a monument to Kenric’s legacy—which Sophie knew was an awesome idea. But she wasn’t sure she could bear seeing it when it was finished.

  “Alden seems to think Dame Alina has several supporters,” Grady said, serving Sophie a huge slice of the purple porcaroot pie Edaline had conjured up before heading out to work in the pastures. “Why? Are you afraid of losing your principal?”

  Actually, Dame Alina was Sophie’s top pick. She’d been extra kind and supportive at Foxfire lately—and she always sided with Alden. Having her on the Council would guarantee another vote in Sophie’s favor.

  Sophie took a bite of her breakfast, relieved when it tasted like bacon mixed with more bacon and covered in melting cheese. Gnomes really did grow the best tasting vegetables—though she had yet to discover a pizza-flavored one.

  “How long do you think it’s going to take the Council to come to a decision,” she asked between mouthfuls.

  “Oh, I think they’ll elect someone as soon as the nomination period has ended. Not only is King Dimitar waiting on your punishment”—he cleared his throat—“but our world needs to know we have our leaders settled again. People need to feel safe. And speaking of safe . . .”

  He scooted closer, taking her hand. “Just because we haven’t talked about this meeting with the Black Swan tonight doesn’t mean I’m totally okay with it.”

  “So . . . you don’t think I should go?” Sophie asked, still having doubts herself.

  “Actually, I think we need to find out what the Black Swan wants. But I don’t trust them—and I definitely don’t trust the Neverseen—so I’m going to insist that Sandor go with you. And not just to the Wanderling Woods. Anywhere they take you. None of that drugging you and taking you somewhere all alone stuff like last time. “

  “They might not allow that,” Sophie warned him. “Last time they wouldn’t let Keefe go with me.”

  “I can be much more persuasive than Mr. Sencen,” Sandor said, patting his weapon-filled pockets. “And if they refuse, I shall drag the two of you home—immediately.”

  “But—”

  “This is not up for debate,” Grady interrupted. “You are not to go anywhere without your bodyguard—and that applies to everything for right now. If Sandor’s not with, you don’t go, understood? Not until things settle down.”

  “Fine,” Sophie mumbled. She knew a losing fight when she saw it.

  Plus, she had a feeling she knew what “things” Grady meant. She’d caught Fitz and Keefe whispering about an Exile Sophie Foster! campaign that apparently had a ton of supporters.

  As she’d heard Keefe put it, the Lost Cities were not a “Foster friendly” place at the moment.

  She pushed aside her plate, no longer feeling hungry.

  Grady pushed it back—and added two pink folded pastries. “That’s another thing. I know you’re under a lot of stress. But you still need to eat. And sleep. And do things with your friends that don’t involve conspiracies or rebels or testing your abilities. Childhood is a precious gift, Sophie. Don’t let anything steal it away.”

  Sophie nibbled on one of the pastries—which tasted like crepes soaked in butter and sugar. “It’s not really my choice, is it?”

  “Yes, it is. I wish I could give you a world where everything was perfect and shining and safe. I used to think that’s what we had, but . . .” He shook his head. “I’ve realized now that our world doesn’t define us. We define our world. And I hope you’ll fill yours with as much light and happiness as you can.”

  “You realize how silly that sounds, right?”

  “I do. But after everything that’s happened, I think we could all use a bit more silly in our lives.”

  The rest of the day passed in a blur, and all too soon the sun was setting and Sophie was bundled in a thick black cape and heading to the Leapmaster, hopeful she was doing the right thing.

  Of course Grady and Edaline were waiting for her.

  She braced for a long lecture—and an even longer list of rules and warnings.

  All they did was hug her.

  “Really? That’s it?” Sophie asked as they called the crystal for the Wanderling Woods.

  “Why?” Edaline asked.

  “Because I’m going off to a dark, lonely forest to meet with a group of rebels, one of whom might be a traitor.”

  “We trust you,” Edaline promised.

  “And we trust Sandor,” Grady added.
<
br />   Sandor pounded his burly chest—which was now strapped with two rather terrifying daggers. Sheathed next to his sword was an obscurer and a melder—one of the rare Elvin weapons Sophie kept hoping she’d never have to see again.

  “Nothing will get past me,” he promised.

  Sophie nodded. But she couldn’t help remembering the way King Dimitar had tossed him aside like a piece of trash.

  “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Grady told her quietly.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She repeated the words in her mind until her legs felt strong enough to move. Then she took Sandor’s hand—glad she had someone to hold on to—and let the light carry her to the Black Swan.

  FORTY-NINE

  ABOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE,” Keefe said, smirking at Sophie from the archway to the Wanderling Woods. “And it looks like we have a chaperone. What kind of lame party is this?”

  “One where you will both come home alive—and without any broken bones,” Sandor said, sniffing the air and scanning the trees around them.

  “But Sophie didn’t have any broken bones last ti—wait! Does this mean Gigantor is starting to care about me? Should we hug it out?”

  He held out his arms.

  Sandor shoved past him. “Stay behind me—and keep in mind that Miss Foster is, and always will be, my first priority.”

  “Mine too,” Keefe said as he fell in step beside Sophie.

  As soon as they crossed into the Woods, Sandor strayed off the regular path, cutting through the grassy knolls that looked far less tranquil covered in shadow. The Wanderlings had hidden their flowers and leaves, turning the trees into a forest of skeletons. And the silence felt different in the twilight. Sharper and colder—like the woods was holding its breath. Waiting to pounce.

  “Relax, Foster,” Keefe said, taking her hand—and then immediately dropping it. “Sheesh—keep up that kind of worrying and you’re going to make us both hurl. Plus, that clenched jaw thing you’re doing makes you look like an angry chipmunk.”

  Sophie pretended to ignore him—but she did force her jaw to relax.