Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (16 page)

“Are those . . .”

“Moonlarks.” Alden finished. “I borrowed them from the Sanctuary. Thought it might be good to study their behavior—see if it gave me any insights.”

The Black Swan had dubbed Sophie’s creation Project Moonlark because moonlarks lay their eggs in the ocean and let the tide carry them away, forcing the babies to survive on their own. In Sophie’s case they’d hidden her in a sea of humans, though they’d at least left her help—even if Mr. Forkle had been grumpy and smelled weird and used to drive her crazy.

Mr. Forkle cared.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. They’re fascinating creatures. Which reminds me. I seem to remember you needing to tell me something when I was last at Havenfield. I’m sorry I haven’t followed up. I’ve been a bit . . . overwhelmed.”

He sank back into his thronelike chair, and Sophie noticed how tired he looked. Faint shadows made his bright eyes look sunken, and there was a tight crease between his brows.

“Anything I need to know about?” she asked, expecting him to say his standard,
No reason to worry.

Instead he frowned and murmured, “Our world is changing, Sophie.”

He stared into space for so long she thought he must be done. But then he added, “What happened to you and Dex frightened people. Shattered their sense of safety and confidence in the Council—not that anyone blames you, of course.”

Some of the people in Mysterium seemed to. . . .

“But we’ll have it under control soon,” he promised. “Silveny is a wonderful symbol of hope, and the Council is planning a huge celebration for when we move her to the Sanctuary. The sooner you have her ready, the better.”

Great, like she needed more pressure.

And wouldn’t catching her kidnappers be a much better way to restore people’s sense of safety?

“So what was it you needed to tell me?”

She bent and reached into her ankle pocket. “I found this
on my tree in the Wanderling Woods. Notice anything strange about the locket charm?”

She handed him the bracelet.

“The sign of the swan,” he whispered as he opened the compass. “I’m guessing the inscription is in code?”

She was surprised he couldn’t read it. “It says ‘Let the past be your guide.’ ”

The crease between his brows deepened. “It specifically says ‘guide’?”

“Yeah. Is that important?”

She waited for him to answer, but he just watched the strange creatures floating in his aquarium as the sunset turned the sky orange and pink.

“It certainly gives us a lot to think about,” he finally said, handing her back the bracelet.

“That’s it? Come on, I’m not stupid. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I would never think you’re stupid, Sophie. I simply need more time to consider this from every angle. Give me a few days to go through my files and see if a compass holds any specific significance to the Black Swan before we discuss anything. And you should search your memories, see if you can trigger anything. But not tonight. Tonight”—he stood, offering her his hand—“we have an aurenflare!”

She really wasn’t in the mood for a fancy bonfire thing, but she stuffed the silver bracelet back into her pocket, glad he
at least wasn’t keeping the charm. Before she took his hand, though, she had one more thing she needed to ask.

The words stuck in her throat and she almost lost her nerve. But if she was ever going to figure this out, she needed to know what he thought.

“Do you think the Black Swan murdered Jolie?”

A
LDEN FROZE, AND THE PANIC
in his eyes made Sophie worry she’d gone too far. But he blinked it away and whispered, “I hope not.”

That . . . wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was better than yes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think they did.” It felt good to say it out loud. Made it feel real. “And I think the clue might have something to do with that. Something in the past they want me to find that would help clear their name.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Alden said slowly. “But whose past? Yours?”

Sophie shook her head. She didn’t know her past—not her real one anyway. She didn’t even know who her real parents were. All Alden had learned from Prentice was her DNA.

She gasped. “What if it’s Prentice?”

“Prentice?” Alden repeated, turning pale.

“Yeah. He’s the one who led you to me, right? So he probably knows everything about me. Maybe if you brought him to me I could—”

He grabbed her shoulders. “Stop right there, Sophie. I know what you’re going to say and you do not realize the danger. A broken mind
cannot
be probed. The Black Swan knows that. Everyone knows that. Prentice is not the answer. Prentice is nothing. Believe me, I can’t tell you how much I wish it weren’t so.”

His voice cracked on the last part and he looked away. When he turned back to her he looked fifty years older.

“Yo, Foster!” Keefe shouted from somewhere down the hall, “What’s taking so long? You have another medical emergency?”

“Ignore him, Sophie,” Della called. “Beauty should never be rushed!”

Something passed across Alden’s face, lightening some of the shadows and erasing the hard lines. He released her shoulders. “We should go. People are waiting for us. People who
need
us.”

Sophie nodded. She wasn’t ready to drop the Prentice idea yet, but Alden was clearly done with the conversation. Maybe he’d change his mind after he did more research.
Otherwise she had no idea how she’d ever get to Prentice on her own. Exile wasn’t a place she could just drop by for a visit—not that she’d ever be crazy enough to go there.

She followed Alden to the back of the mansion, resisting the urge to duck as colored streams of water shot over their heads in graceful arcs all through the hallway. An arched golden door led outside to a wide stone patio overlooking the glassy lake where everyone had gathered.

“Oh, Sophie,” Della gasped when she saw her. “You really should wear that color more often. Makes your eyes even more striking. Especially with your hair that way.”

“Mom, you’re embarrassing her,” Biana said, pushing past Della and Alden and dragging Sophie over to an ornate silver bench. “She is right, though,” she whispered. “Red is definitely your color.”

“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled.

She slouched, feeling like she was back in her first day at Foxfire when Dame Alina flashed a giant spotlight right at her.

“What?” she asked, when she caught Fitz and Keefe staring at her.

“Nothing,” they both mumbled.

Three gnomes broke the uncomfortable silence as they dragged a bundle of enormous black fan-shaped leaves to the footed silver basin in the center of the benches. They carefully formed the leaves into a tower, and Alden lit the top with a long copper match. Flames in every color of the spectrum raced
down the stems, growing into an enormous teardrop-shaped bonfire that filled the air with a sweet, sticky aroma, like melting sugar.

Della passed out skewers with green brattails speared on the ends, and they roasted them in the flames. When the sausage-flavored tubers turned an ashy brown, they wrapped them in a soft yellow bread that tasted like melted cheese. Sophie felt ready to explode after devouring three, but Della insisted she still try a ripplenut and handed her a skewer lined with round yellow nuts. The shells turned orange as they roasted, and Biana showed her how to crack them open and suck out the juice inside. Sophie’s eyes watered as the warm goo coated her tongue, but it was worth the heat. It tasted like butter and vanilla and honey melted together with a hint of cinnamon and caramel.

When Keefe finished his, he used his skewer to poke the flames, showering Sophie and Biana with rainbow-colored sparks that felt like cool splashes of water. Biana giggled, but Sophie had to force herself not to flinch as every spark flew, and her skin tingled with the memory of her burns.

I guess a bonfire wasn’t the best thing to invite you to, huh?
Fitz transmitted as she rubbed her wrists

She winced.

What’s wrong?

Sorry, you just transmit really loud sometimes.

I do?

Yep. It’s like you’re screaming in my head.

His cheeks flushed. Or maybe it was the light of the aurenflare.
Why didn’t you tell me? Is this any better?

Not really.

How about now?

A little.

You’re just saying that, aren’t you?

It’s not bad, really. It just takes a second to get used to.

He frowned.
Do you want me to stop?

Of course not! It’s not a big deal.

Well, maybe Sir Tiergan can help me figure out what I’m doing wrong. You know about that, right?

Just saw it on my schedule today.

I guess it was my dad’s idea. He wants to see if Sir Tiergan can figure out why I can do this now. I keep telling him it’s because I’m super talented—
he grinned—
but my dad wants to make sure.

Make sure of what?

“Dude—will you guys quit it?” Keefe interrupted. “Normal people talk
out
loud.
”

“Yeah, but this is Sophie,” Biana reminded him. “She never does anything the normal way.”

Everyone laughed—and not in a mean way—and Sophie did her best to smile. But paired with what Fitz had just said, she’d found a new reason to worry.

“Oh, this is the best part,” Biana said as the fire made a tiny
pop!
The tower of burning branches collapsed and a stream of rainbow flames erupted into the sky.

The fire split into flecks of light as it hit the atmosphere, spreading like fireworks. But they didn’t flash away—they lingered above them, surging brighter each second until they finally exploded with a blast of white light that burned Sophie’s eyes and triggered a headache so sharp she could barely breathe.

Are you okay?
Fitz asked, and she had to fight not to cringe.

It’s just a headache
.
It’ll go away in a minute.

Does that happen a lot?

Sometimes,
she admitted.

Have you told Elwin?

Not yet—but I’m sure it’s not a big deal.

I think you should tell him. What if something’s wrong?

I’m fine,
she promised. And she tried to believe it.

But when she crawled into bed that night and closed her eyes, a thin halo glowed in her vision, like the light from the aurenflare had burned into her eyelids. And in the last restless moments between wake and sleep, with her head still pounding and her mind replaying all the strange events of the day, she found herself asking the same question Fitz had.

What if something’s wrong?

A
BURST OF SHARP, COLD
terror ripped Sophie from her nightmares, like her brain had just been stabbed with an icicle. She stumbled out of bed and ran to her door as Silveny filled her head with an image that made Sophie’s chest so tight she thought she might choke.

Figures in black cloaks, looming outside the enclosure, trying to get in.

This time Sophie didn’t argue when Sandor insisted she wait inside while he searched the pastures for any sign of intruders, and Grady and Edaline sat with her as she watched the door, tugging out loose eyelashes and trying not to imagine the kidnappers storming the house.

She jumped when the door slammed open, but it was only Sandor returning. His weapon was sheathed and he looked much more calm than Sophie had expected as he loomed in the doorway.

“Well?” Grady asked him.

“The alicorn is terrified and screeching whenever anything comes near her pen, but I could detect no unfamiliar scents or signs of intruders. The yard is clear. The Cliffside gate is locked. All seems normal.”

“But Silveny saw them!” Sophie could hear the hysteria in her voice, but she couldn’t stop it. “She sent me an image of black-cloaked figures.”

Edaline rubbed Sophie’s back. “Maybe Silveny had a nightmare. Weren’t the Hekses wearing dark clothes when they came for her?”

“Yes,” Sophie admitted.

“Well, then maybe she relived that in a dream tonight and it scared her.”

That did sort of make sense, but . . . “It seemed so real.”

“Nightmares always do.”

“You said you didn’t detect any unfamiliar scents,” Grady said to Sandor. “Can you still detect the Hekses?”

Sandor turned his head and sniffed the outside air. “Hints of them, yes.”

Sophie jumped to her feet. “Do you think they tried to take Silveny again?”

“Why would they do that?” Grady asked.

“Timkin wants to be in the nobility. Wouldn’t training Silveny help make that happen?”

“If the Council sanctioned it, yes. But stealing her in the middle of the night would merit a Tribunal—and how else would they explain why they have her? Unless . . .” Grady started to pace, and he’d passed Sophie three times before he added, “I suppose they could’ve been trying to help Silveny escape so they could rescue her and use that to prove our incompetency.”

Sophie could
definitely
see them doing something like that. “Can we do anything to stop them?” she asked.

“I’ll talk to the gnomes tomorrow about adding some extra security measures around her pen,” Grady decided.

“I should check on Silveny.”

“Absolutely not,” Sandor said, blocking her. “Not until I’ve done a more thorough sweep. I’ll patrol the grounds tonight. No one can get past me.”

SOPHIE TRIED TO GO BACK
to sleep, but Silveny kept filling her mind with waves of panic and pleas for Sophie to let her go free—plus several words Sophie’s mind couldn’t translate. And no matter how many times she tried to convince Silveny that she was safer in her enclosure, the stubborn horse wouldn’t believe her.