Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (28 page)

Devastated, exhausted, angry, scared. Pick an emotion—she was feeling it.

But all she said was, “Fine.”

“Then you’re a very lucky girl. I barely managed to pull myself free and I was only in his mind for a second.”

“How long was I in there for?”

“At least a minute. I really wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

“Well . . . I did.”

“And you will
not
try that again, understood? I need your word on that, Sophie.”

“It didn’t work anyway.”

“I still need your word.”

“I really thought it would work.”

“
Sophie!”

“Fine! You have my word. I just—I don’t understand. Why
can I bring back someone lost but not someone broken?”

“Because
lost
and
broken
are two very different—”

“Yeah, I
know
.” If she had to hear that one more time, she was going to lose it. “I guess . . . I just thought it might be possible. I can do so many other impossible things. Why not this?”

The only one that mattered.

Tears pricked her eyes and she fought back her guilt, remembering Tiergan’s warning.

Which made her wonder . . .

“Can guilt be reversed? Like, if we could make Alden not feel guilty for what happened to Prentice—convince him it wasn’t his fault or something—would it heal him?”

Tiergan sighed. “He’s not capable of coherent reasoning anymore.”

“But what if we could get through somehow?”

“You saw for yourself how ruined his mind is.”

But it wasn’t empty. There was still
something
there. And she’d seen even more in Prentice’s mind. He could still think and communicate.

If Prentice could still function—after all that time—then maybe Alden could . . .

A new spark of hope caught inside her, kindling in her heart and pumping through her veins.

Maybe Alden could still heal himself.

If she could find a way to show him that he had nothing to
feel guilty for, maybe whatever small part was left would find the strength to fight his way back.

She didn’t know if it was possible, but she had to try.

And she could think of one thing that could definitely erase Alden’s guilt.

If Grady was right about the Black Swan.

S
OPHIE NEVER THOUGHT SHE’D
WANT
to be the creation of a band of murderers—but now she wished for it more than anything else she’d ever wished for.

So what if Mr. Forkle had cared?

That didn’t mean the rest of the Black Swan did. Grady was convinced they were evil, and she needed him to be right. She’d worry about what that meant for
her
life later.

All that mattered was bringing Alden back.

For that she’d need proof. Something she could show Alden to call him out of the darkness, seal the cracks in his mind, make him
him
again.

“Someone will need to alert the Council,” Alvar announced, appearing from nowhere.

Sophie clutched her chest, wondering how long he’d been standing there.

“I can go,” he offered, noticeably not looking at his father. “I believe the Councillors are in their offices right now.”

Tiergan held up his hand. “I think we should wait. We need to prepare a place in the house where Alden can comfortably stay. Otherwise they’ll want to move him to Exile.”

Sophie tried to block the image of Alden locked up in one of those cold, tiny rooms from her mind, but it wormed its way in anyway.

“But if they find out we kept this from them—” Alvar argued.

“They won’t. And even if they do, we can explain that we were giving it time to make sure nothing changed. I’m sure they’ll be especially accommodating in your father’s case. He was one of their best Emissaries.”

“But—”

“We’re going to wait a day!” Tiergan insisted. “I’ll take full responsibility if they’re unhappy.”

Alvar stepped into Tiergan’s personal space. “Since when have you had even the slightest concern for anyone in my family? In fact, shouldn’t you be celebrating right now?”

“I may have disagreed with your father on certain things—but I have
never
wished ill on him, or anyone else in your
family. I am simply trying my best to help, and as the most senior official in this room, what I say will be what goes.”

Alvar’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. “I guess I’ll go check on my sister, then,” he said as he stalked out of the room.

Tiergan rubbed his temples. “I’m probably not the best person to be assisting with this situation.”

“They’re going to need all the help they can get,” Elwin said sadly. Alden started to thrash again and Elwin forced more sedative down his throat. “It’s wearing off quicker and quicker.”

“Soon it won’t work at all. You can’t alter consciousness when there’s no consciousness to alter.”

“So there’s still some consciousness left?” Sophie asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice.

“Not the way you’re thinking, Sophie. When your sanity breaks, it continues to break, splintering into smaller and smaller pieces. In the beginning the shards are big enough to still react to certain things. But as they shatter further they’ll become completely unresponsive.”

“How long will that take?”

“It’s different with every person. With Prentice it was slow, because his mind was so strong.”

Alden’s mind was strong too—supposedly one of the strongest in their world. Hopefully that meant she had more time.

“You really think they should keep him here?” Elwin asked as he wiped the sweat off Alden’s forehead. “Won’t it be too hard?”

“It’s better than locking him away in Exile. I’ve been there, it’s . . .” Tiergan looked away.

“He’s right,” Sophie agreed—though she had another reason for not wanting Alden moved. Once she’d figured out how to fix him, the last thing she wanted was another trip to that horrible place.

Elwin sighed. “I guess I’d better talk to the gnomes. We’ll need to set him up somewhere he can’t hurt himself if he thrashes.”

“And somewhere they won’t be able to hear his wails.” Tiergan’s voice shook as he said it.

“I should probably go home,” Sophie mumbled. She was dreading telling Grady and Edaline the sad news, but she needed to start looking for the proof to save him.

“I’ll go with you,” Tiergan offered. “I should talk to Grady anyway.”

He didn’t say about what, and Sophie decided not to ask. She had enough to worry about.

She refused to look at Alden’s pale, unconscious form as she dug out her home crystal and reached for Tiergan’s hand.

This was only temporary. The next time she saw Alden she’d be bringing him the news to pull him back from the darkness.

FRIEND?
SILVENY CALLED AS SHE
spotted Sophie across the pastures.
Friend! Come! Fly! Trust! Fly! Fly! Fly!

Silveny, not now—please,
Sophie transmitted, rubbing her temples.

“What’s wrong? You’re not getting a headache, are you?” Tiergan asked.

“No. Silveny’s just calling for me, and it’s hard to concentrate because I can’t block her.”

His eyes widened and she realized she’d never told him about her unusual connection to the alicorn. “What do you think that means?” she asked when she was done explaining.

“I can’t even begin to guess. I’d long suspected the alicorn we had in the Sanctuary had a mind far superior to any creature we’d ever encountered before. But I never thought—”

“Tiergan? Is that you?” Grady called from the back door. “And, Sophie, you’re back from Everglen already? How’s Alden doing? I haven’t been able to get ahold of Della.”

Sophie tried to figure out how to respond, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“Why don’t you wait out here while I answer their questions?” Tiergan said quietly.

Sophie couldn’t begin to express how much she wanted to take him up on that offer. But she knew Grady and Edaline would need her. “No, it’s okay. I’ll tell them.”

Tiergan smiled sadly and offered her his hand. They’d walked several steps before Sophie realized how natural the gesture felt. Tiergan’s usual awkwardness around her seemed
almost forgotten. Like he’d stepped into Alden’s role without even realizing it.

She was grateful for it. But it made her sad, too.

“What’s going on?” Grady asked as he got a closer look at their expressions. “Is Alden’s injury serious?”

“We have much to discuss,” Tiergan told him. “But I think we should be sitting down.”

GRADY WASN’T SAD. HE WAS
furious
—shouting hateful things about the Council, the Black Swan, memory breaks, even Alden. Edaline wasn’t sad either. She was
worried
—trying to force a dozen elixirs down Sophie’s throat, no matter how many times Sophie assured her she was fine. Tiergan ordered them both to drink a mild sedative and they finally calmed, sinking into their chairs.

“I’ll have to talk to Grady about the other matters tomorrow,” Tiergan said as they stared blankly into space. “Hopefully he’ll have accepted the news by then.”

Sophie hoped so.

“Maybe I should stay. I’d hate to have you here alone.”

“I’ll be okay. I have Sandor here with me.”

Tiergan nodded. “I must say, you’re handling this very bravely. Alden would be proud.”

Would he?

Or would he think she cared less than the others who kept falling apart?

“I suspect your upbringing helps you process grief better than the rest of us,” he added, like he knew what she’d been thinking. “Death and loss are so much more common for humans.”

“Then how come you’re not more affected?”

Tiergan fiddled with the edges of his sleeves. “I’ve known more loss than anyone. Anyway, if you’ll really be okay, then I should go. There is much to do before I go to the Council tomorrow. I’ll be back here in the morning.”

Sophie nodded.

Tiergan made her promise to hail him if she needed anything. Then he vanished into the light, leaving behind a silence so thick Sophie wondered if it would smother her.

Sandor helped her lead Grady and Edaline upstairs, and by the time they were settled into their enormous canopied bed, Sophie could barely stand. She turned to head to her room, but her body felt ready to collapse. Or maybe she did collapse, because the next thing she knew, Sandor was setting her gently down on her bed.

“I’m worried today’s events will give you nightmares, Miss Foster. Perhaps you should try some of that tea Elwin has suggested. Slumberberry?”

“No sedatives.”

Sandor sighed—a wheezy, squeaky sound that would’ve made her giggle any other time—but didn’t push her. Instead he untangled Ella from the blankets and handed her the familiar bright blue elephant.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, burying her face between Ella’s ears.

“If you need me, I’m right outside.” He clapped his hands, closing the drapes along her walls and leaving her in darkness.

Sophie closed her eyes, waiting for the exhaustion to pull her weary mind into unconsciousness. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Iggy’s wood chipper snore echoed through the silent room, which felt cold and empty. Sophie was tempted to ask Sandor to station himself inside for the night, but she pulled the blankets over her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and curled up as tight as she could.

The coldness was inside her, though. Shards of ice slicing her apart.

The shivers turned to heaving sobs that shook her so hard she wondered if she’d be bruised the next day, and cold tears soaked her pillow, mixed with snot and drool.

Friend?

Silveny’s soft call echoed through her mind, but Sophie was too lost in the grief to respond.

Friend!
Silveny called again—more urgent this time.

When she still didn’t reply, a warm buzz filled Sophie’s mind, soft and sweet, like the crunch of fresh grass between her teeth or the rush of the wind on her feathered wings or the gentle touch of a slender blond girl, brushing her fingers through her mane.

Sophie’s eyes popped open.

Silveny must have opened some sort of channel between them and was filling her head with feelings and memories that weren’t hers. Panic and instinct told Sophie to shove the foreign thoughts away—but there was something so calming about the pure simplicity of the sensations. No grief. No worry. Just the easy pleasure of running at top speed through a dew-covered meadow, or soaring through a cloudless sky with the crisp breeze blowing in her face. But stronger than anything else were the images of
her
. Silveny shared memories of smiles and laughs that Sophie had felt rather than seen, and she could feel the downy fur of her nose being tickled by soft fingers. The gentle strokes sent tingles rippling all the way to the tips of her hooves—filling her heart with a warm burst of joy. Lightening a darkness and emptiness so deep inside that Sophie had never noticed she felt it—but she realized that was because it wasn’t hers.

It was Silveny’s.

Hundreds of years of running, flying, hiding anytime anyone came close. Until one day a soft voice entered her mind as she fled, and convinced her to stay.

Friend?
Sophie transmitted, feeling the word circle and buzz in Silveny’s mind, sweeping away even more of the loneliness.

Friend,
Silveny repeated.
Calm.

The word carried authority, like Silveny was ordering her to relax, and Sophie couldn’t help smiling at the thought of being mothered by a glittery winged horse.

But Silveny took her job seriously. She filled Sophie’s mind with memories of vivid desert sunsets and moonlit beaches with silver-tipped waves and rich green meadows with flowers in every color of the rainbow. Cities and forests and islands and icy tundra. Empty, isolated places that felt like the world had forgotten them, and crowded, cluttered places where voices smiled and laughed as Silveny hid in the shadows, listening.

It was two or three lifetimes’ worth of memories, and Sophie’s last thought was to wonder how a single alicorn could possibly have been and seen and known so many places. Then her mind finally drifted off to sleep.