Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3)

by Shannon Messenger

  “Neither will I,” Tiergan jumped in.

  “Nor I,” Alden added.

  Councillor Emery rubbed his temples. “Then I suppose we’ll have to wait until we have another Empath.”

  “Or, if I may,” Magnate Leto jumped in, “I might not be a Councillor, but I am a Telepath, and one of my strengths is knowing if someone has invaded my mind. If Sophie is able to get in, I’ll be able to tell.”

  “And how will we know if he’s lying?” Councillor Alina asked.

  Magnate Leto gave her a cold smile. “If you don’t trust me, Emery is welcome to listen to the thoughts in my head.”

  “No, I suppose that won’t be necessary,” Councillor Emery said slowly. “And it’s likely the best test we’ll get.”

  “Why are you assuming I’m going to lie?” Sophie interrupted. “I’ve cooperated already, haven’t I?”

  “Yes. And lets hope you continue to.” Councillor Emery told her.

  Sophie bit back a venomous reply as she moved shakily to Magnate Leto’s side and reached for his temples.

  She honestly wasn’t sure what she would do if she could hear him, but judging by how fuzzy her head felt, she doubted she would need to decide. Her concentration felt scattered and jumpy, switching from one thought to the next before she could even finish thinking it.

  She wondered if this was how people with ADD felt as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to stretch out her mind.

  It felt a bit like shoving her head into a pool of mud—thick and sloshy and totally murky. But she could still press forward. Just very, very slowly.

  Bit by bit, inch by inch she crawled deeper into the mire and found . . .

  . . . darkness.

  And silence.

  And pain.

  So much pain.

  A migraine that was worse than all the ones she’d endured during her years trapped with humans—combined.

  She had just started to retreat from the agony when she heard a soft, muffled sound. Not even a whisper. More like a breath. And when she focused what little energy she had left, the sound morphed into a string of feint words:

  If you can hear me, Sophie, do not let them know.

  FIFTY-NINE

  SOPHIE DID THE ONLY THING she could think of.

  She fainted.

  Or pretended to, anyway.

  She fell into Grady’s arms, forcing herself to stay limp as everyone shuffled around her. Only when she heard Elwin talking about a jolting elixir did she slowly groan back to life.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what happened,” she mumbled, realizing with each word how hard her head was throbbing. The buzzing static had turned to a crashing waterfall. “I was trying to concentrate and . . . everything shut down.”

  Elwin helped her sit up, and when the head rush cleared she stole a quick glance at Magnate Leto.

  He nodded—only once. Not really a nod at all.

  But clearly he knew she’d heard him. And he was going to protect her secret.

  “Here,” Elwin said, handing her a bottle of Youth and flashing a yellow orb around her forehead. “You’re severely dehydrated.”

  She downed the bottle in one long gulp. And it helped—a little.

  But her brain still felt like the verminion was chewing on it.

  Straining to hear that thought had drained every ounce of her strength. She didn’t know how she could ever re-create it.

  “We should take this contraption off now, before it does any permanent damage,” Elwin muttered.

  He reached for the band, but Dex grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Once the restrictor’s been activated, you can’t remove it unless you deactivate it first. That’s why they had me take it off the first time.”

  “Or else what?” Alden asked.

  “I’m not sure. It could be anything from partial brain damage to insanity. It’s a security feature they asked me to give it, so the person being restricted doesn’t have control.”

  “Great,” Sophie grumbled. Leave it to Dex to be thorough while sealing her misery.

  “I’m so sorry,” he told her for what felt like the billionth time. “I’ll take it off right now—”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort! In fact, your services are no longer needed.” Councillor Emery dragged him toward the door. “Know this, Mr. Dizznee: If you make any change to the device—or its effect on her—your entire family will be charged with treason.”

  He shoved Dex into the goblins standing guard, locking him outside before he could respond.

  “How do you know the restrictor’s not harming her?” Grady demanded. “This is completely untested technology—developed by a thirteen-year-old-boy. You have no idea what effect it’s going to have in a few days or weeks.”

  “We’ll monitor her progress closely,” Councillor Emery promised. “As I’m certain you will as well. She already keeps Elwin on standby, doesn’t she?”

  “You dare to make jokes—” Elwin started, but Sophie cut him off.

  “I’m kind of queasy, Elwin. Is there anything you can give me?”

  The nausea was actually the least of her problems—but she needed to keep Elwin distracted. Enough people she cared about were facing exile already.

  Elwin dug through his satchel, handing her at least a dozen elixirs and explaining how to administer them. When he was done, he flashed a green orb around Sophie’s face, studying her for a long time before he said, “I almost don’t want to say this, but . . . she seems okay. She’ll probably need regular supplements, since this puts her under much heavier strain. But her vitals are holding steady.”

  “Wonderful,” Councillor Emery said, so pleased with himself Sophie wanted to scratch the smile off his face.

  “Perhaps Sophie should go home and rest, then,” Councillor Terik said quietly. He avoided Sophie’s gaze as he added, “It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  “It has,” Councillor Emery agreed. “And her punishment is complete, so we can dismiss the assembly without her.”

  “Wait—people are still here?” Sophie asked.

  “Of course,” Councillor Alina said, smoothing her hair in one of the mirrors. “They’re waiting for the final update.”

  Sophie could imagine them. Standing there judging her. Laughing at her. And that was only the beginning. Everyone knew about this—and if they didn’t, her ugly circlet would quickly give her away.

  She wasn’t The Girl Who Was Taken anymore.

  She was Talentless.

  “I need to go,” she told Grady, struggling to her feet. Her legs could barely hold her, but she refused to let anyone carry her out of there.

  She would not let the Council think they’d broken her.

  She held her head high as Edaline created a path. And the last thing she saw as she stepped into the light was Magnate Leto, giving her a quick wink.

  Sophie made it to her bedroom before the tears hit. But once they started, she couldn’t stop them.

  She didn’t even want to.

  She collapsed on her bed and burrowed under the covers, wishing she could build a nest and never leave—never have to face the world as the freak-girl with restricted abilities.

  It didn’t matter that she’d been able to hear Magnate Leto. She’d nearly broken her brain to do it.

  But what would she do without her abilities?

  No one would want anything to do with her now. Not her friends. Not the Black Swan. Not Grady and Edaline.

  And she couldn’t blame them.

  She didn’t want anything to do with herself.

  The sobs turned to chokes, bruising her from the inside out until Edaline pulled back the covers and pressed a warm, sweet cup against Sophie’s lips.

  She knew it was slumberberry tea even before she saw the purple color, and she drank it gladly,
downing the whole thing and hoping it knocked her out for a few years—decades—the rest of eternity.

  She strangled Ella as warm fluff swelled inside her mind, like her brain was spinning into cotton candy. Still, the softness couldn’t erase the sting of the cold metal circlet cutting into her skin, and she tossed and turned and failed to find a comfortable position against her pillow until the drug dragged her away from the pain.

  She woke up later and didn’t bother opening her eyes. Her neck ached and her forehead was bruised and her pillow was soggy with drool.

  Edaline tried to get her to eat something, but she wasn’t hungry.

  All she wanted was more tea.

  She sank back into the cotton mind-candy, ignoring the voices that danced through her fluffy dreams. She couldn’t tell if they were real or imagined.

  But she heard Elwin worrying about her brain.

  Dex apologizing over and over again.

  Keefe insisting silver circlets were the hot new trend.

  Biana asking if she could help.

  Fitz promising he was there if she needed him.

  And Grady and Edaline, begging begging begging her to wake.

  She knew everyone needed her to be brave.

  But she needed to stay far, far away. So she dove deeper into her drug-induced haze, wishing she could find her way back to the nook in her mind and stay there forever. She’d been happy there.

  Safe.

  But all too soon the tea wore off again, and this time when she asked for more, Edaline wouldn’t give it to her.

  “You’re scaring me, Sophie,” she whispered, wiping the sticky hair off Sophie’s forehead. “Elwin doesn’t think the circlet is hurting you—except for the abrasions on your skin, and he’s working on a cream for those. But is there something he’s missing? Are you sick?”

  Sophie pulled the covers over her head.

  “It’s okay to be angry,” Grady said from somewhere in the room. “What the Council has done to you is . . . unspeakable. I resigned my position as Emissary yesterday.”

  “You did?” Sophie asked.

  “Yep. Alden was also ready to resign, but we decided to keep someone on the inside. So he’s staying for now. But that might change.”

  She slid her covers back and opened her eyes, regretting it when blinding light crashed into her brain. She curled up in a ball, rocking through the pain as Grady and Edaline held her as tight as they could.

  “I’m so sorry,” Edaline whispered. “If I could wear the circlet for you, I would.”

  “I’d rather make the Councillors run off a cliff.”

  Grady’s voice was so dark, Sophie believed him. Which was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid when she’d agreed to the horrible circlet in the first place.

  “Please,” she whispered, slowly lifting her heavy head. “Please don’t do anything crazy over me. I’m not worth it.”

  “What?” Grady asked as Edaline pulled her closer again.

  “I’m not worth it,” Sophie repeated, taking a deep breath to give her the strength to say the rest. “I’m . . . a failed experiment, okay? The Black Swan made me to do something—I don’t know what, but it doesn’t matter now because I’ll never be able to do it and the whole thing is a waste. I bet if you asked them they’d say the same thing.”

  “I don’t care what the Black Swan created you for,” Edaline told her. “I don’t care if you dropped out of the sky or floated on the beach in an egg and hatched—you’re still my daughter and I will always love you. No matter what.”

  Fresh tears burned Sophie’s eyes. “You don’t wish you could get rid of me now?”

  “Is that really what you think?” Edaline asked.

  Sophie hung her head, pointing to her circlet. “Who wants a freak in their family?”

  “The freaks are the Councillors who thought this was an acceptable punishment,” Grady growled. “But I promise, Sophie, nothing will ever make us not want you in our family. Nothing.”

  “But I keep ruining your lives!”

  “No—you made our lives worth living again,” Edaline promised. “You are a strong, beautiful, amazing girl, and nothing about this”—she traced a finger across the circlet—“will ever change that. You will still be our daughter, and we will still love you because you—”

  “Remind you of Jolie?” The words stung her tongue and Sophie wished she could drag them back in. Especially when she saw their stunned faces. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Yes, you should,” Grady said, squeezing her shoulders to stop her from turning away. “Sophie, I—we—never meant to compare you to Jolie. Yes, you remind us of her in certain small ways. But only because we love you so, so much. And what we love is you. You know that, right?”

  A sniffle was the only answer Sophie could come up with.

  Edaline brushed a tear off Sophie’s cheek. “Please, Sophie. You have to believe us. We want you. Only you, okay? And that’s never going to change. Never.”

  Sophie swallowed a sob, feeling the knots tangled inside her loosen as she whispered, “You know what I want?”

  “What?” Grady asked.

  “A mom and dad.”

  She said the last words as a test, not sure how they’d feel.

  But they felt right. So right.

  Especially when Grady and Edaline whispered, “That’s what we’re here for.”

  “No matter what,” Edaline added.

  “No matter what,” Sophie repeated.

  She pulled them close, needing to do this right.

  “I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “I love you, Dad.”

  “We love you too,” they both told her, their voices dissolving into sobs.

  Sophie had no idea how long they sat holding one another, or how much time had passed since the night the Council sentenced her. But she was finally ready to face the next day.

  And it was a good thing, because when she showered and dressed and slowly made her way downstairs, Grady and Edaline weren’t alone.

  Sandor was waiting for her.

  So were Fitz and Biana.

  And Keefe.

  Sophie didn’t need to ask why they were there.

  She could see the tiny scrolls in their hands.

  Each sealed with the sign of the swan.

  SIXTY

  GIVEN HER RECENT TROUBLES, SOPHIE would’ve expected her parents to keep her far, far away from the very illegal scrolls that Fitz, Keefe, and Biana were holding. Instead they left them in the living room with mallowmelt and lushberry juice and went upstairs. They did tell Sandor to keep an eye on things. But mostly they seemed relieved to see Sophie doing something normal again.

  Or maybe they knew she was too useless to be involved anyway. . . .

  The Black Swan must’ve thought the same thing. Apparently they’d given Keefe a note within hours of Sophie’s sentencing, instructing him to tell Fitz and Biana about his dad and to wait for a new plan. Replacing one Telepath for another—with a Vanisher as a bonus.

  It was hard not to be bitter.

  Her friends sat on the couch opposite her, looking anywhere except her forehead.

  “You can all stop pretending not to notice it,” Sophie mumbled.

  She’d managed to cover part of the circlet with her hair, but the bands that crossed her forehead, and the flat beige stone that rested between her brows, were impossible to hide—unless she put a bag over her head. Which she was actually considering.

  “Honestly, I think it’s pretty,” Biana said, earning herself an elbow from Fitz. “What? I know it’s a terrible thing. But . . . at least it’s not ugly on top of it. Wouldn’t that be worse?”

  Sophie almost wanted to smile.

  Leave it to Biana to consider the fashion sense of an ability-restricting accessory.

 
“Does it hurt?” Fitz asked after a second.

  “Yeah,” Keefe told him, before Sophie could lie. “I can feel it from here. And I gotta say, Sophie. I like Dex. But I kinda want to kick him in his special place.”

  “Me too,” Fitz agreed.

  “Me three,” Sandor added from his post near the front door.

  Sophie sighed.

  She didn’t want to hate Dex. But it was hard when just concentrating on the conversation felt like it was wringing all the energy out of her brain. She’d already shoved the ring he’d made her deep into the bottom of her drawer—along with her iPod, and anything else he’d given her. And as soon as she had a chance, she was dyeing Iggy back to gray.

  Still, Dex wasn’t the only one to blame.

  “It’s my fault too. If I hadn’t tried to read King Dimitar’s mind . . .”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence. And she definitely couldn’t look at Fitz, remembering the way he’d tried to warn her.

  “It’s not your fault,” Fitz promised, leaning closer to her. “The Councillors are being idiots. And if it helps . . . there are lots of people who agree.”

  Sophie snorted. “I’m sure most of the crowd was cheering.”

  “There were some,” Biana admitted. “But mostly everyone was stunned silent.”

  “Dude—even my dad thought it was messed up,” Keefe jumped in. “If that doesn’t say something . . .”

  His words felt like a slap to the cheek and Sophie hung her head, realizing she was pouting about a circlet when Keefe’s whole world was crumbling.

  “How’s everything going?” she asked quietly.

  Keefe shrugged. “My dad doesn’t know I know. My mom’s asked a couple of times if I’m okay, but I’m sure she just thinks I’m worried about you.”

  “I still don’t think you should be staying there,” Fitz said, squeezing the edge of the couch. “What if Lord Cassius figures out that you’re on to him?”

  “Then he’ll see that I’m ready for him.” Keefe pulled back his sleeve to reveal a row of goblin throwing stars. The steel in his eyes said he wouldn’t hesitate to use them. But there was a quaver in his voice as he added, “I’m keeping close track of his emotions. If I sense anything weird, I’ll head to Everglen. But until then, we have to stick to the plan.”