Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (34 page)

“I go where you go,” Sandor insisted, cutting Sophie off. “Or I head downstairs and tell Edaline everything I just heard—and more.”

Sophie glared at him, but she had no doubt he would make good on his threat.

“Okay, so Gigantor’s on the team,” Keefe decided.

“And let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Sencen,” Sandor said, leaning down in Keefe’s face. “I am here to keep Miss Foster safe, so you will do what I say or I will leave you behind. Is that clear?”

“Is he always this cuddly?”

Sophie couldn’t help smiling.

“All right, so I think everything’s settled,” Keefe announced. “Team Foster-Keefe—and our goblin mascot—is official. Where do we get started?”

That
was a very good question.

“THIS ISN’T
NEARLY
AS EXCITING
as I thought it would be,” Keefe complained as Sophie finished explaining her theory about removing Alden’s guilt and how she was trying to track down her own journal. “When do we get to, like, fly into the line of fire or sneak away to the Forbidden Cities?”

“Hopefully we won’t have to do any of that.” She scanned her notes on the Councillors. She’d narrowed it down to
Emery or Kenric—either of whom she’d probably be okay with approaching. But the problem was figuring out how to ask them. She doubted she could just leap to Eternalia and knock on their doors. And she’d tried her Imparter and been told those names were “restricted.”

“Ugh, this is so boooooooooooooring,” Keefe whined as he got up to wander. He’d circled her room several times before he said, “You know, you have
way
less girlie stuff than other girls. Actually, you just have less
stuff
. I see maybe ten things in this whole room that say ‘Sophie lives here.’ What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, surprised to realize he was right. “I guess I haven’t bought that much since I moved here. I’ve been a little busy with school and friends and—”

“Almost dying three times? Or is it four? I can’t keep count anymore.”

“Yeah. And that.”

“But still, I was expecting all kinds of cool human stuff.”

“I didn’t take much when I left.”

Maybe if she had, she’d have her journal—though she doubted it. She’d forgotten all about it.

“Do you ever think about them?” Keefe asked quietly.

“Who?”

“Your old family. It’s gotta be kinda weird knowing they’re still out there. . . .”

“It is,” she admitted. “But it’s better this way.”

“Of course it is. You belong with us. And you got some pretty cool guardians to live with. Be glad the Council didn’t stick you with my family—I’m sure my dad would’ve volunteered. He finds you ‘
fascinating
.’ ”

Sophie tried not to cringe. “Your dad seems . . . intense.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Do you know we have an entire room at our house dedicated to the Wonder That Is Him? He’s covered the walls in portraits and awards and has a life-size statue of himself in the center—carved out of Lumenite, so it glows. I used to have nightmares about it coming to life and trying to eat me. And when I started Foxfire he cleared out the room next to it, saying we’d fill it with all my honors. So far, all it has is a pile of detention slips.”

He laughed as he said it, but it sounded slightly bitter.

Sophie tried to imagine living with that kind of expectation. Even with her human family, she’d never been pressured to succeed. If anything, they were always trying to slow her down, let her enjoy being a kid. It used to drive her crazy, but maybe she didn’t realize how lucky she’d been.

“What about your mom?” she asked, realizing that in all the months she’d known Keefe, she’d never once heard him mention her.

“She’s a perfect match for my dad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine. Disappointing them is actually pretty fun. And they gave me my stunning good looks, so that makes up for it.”
He ran his hands through his hair, disheveling it even more—which somehow made him look even better.

Sophie looked away before Keefe could realize she’d noticed.

Grady knocked as he peeked his head through the doorway. His brows shot up when he noticed Keefe. “Oh. I thought you were up here with Dex.”

“Nope. Keefe’s helping me with . . . something.”

“I’m teaching Sophie some tricks for using her photographic memory,” Keefe jumped in. “Figured it can’t be too early to help her get ready for midterms, given what happened last year.”

“Hey—I passed all of my midterms!”

“Barely.”

Grady smiled, but he didn’t look convinced by Keefe’s story. “Well, either way, I need you to come downstairs.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not necessarily.” He sighed. “Bronte was a bit
concerned
after what happened during your session today, and he’s demanded a demonstration to see how Silveny’s progress is coming along. I tried to stall them until the weekend, but I was overruled. The entire Council is waiting for you outside.”

Grady looked nervous, but Keefe cracked up. “Only Foster gets the Councillors to make house calls.”

G
RADY PULLED SOPHIE ASIDE AS
she and Keefe followed him and Sandor downstairs.

“You’re okay, right? The session—Bronte didn’t . . . ?”

“I’m fine,” she promised, wishing there hadn’t been a tremble in her voice as she said it. “The elixir fixed everything, and Sandor brought me to Elwin just in case.”

Grady’s hands curled into fists. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Sophie stared at the floor. “Why is the Council concerned about what happened? Why does it matter if Bronte can inflict on me?”

“They’re just a little concerned that your mind . . . isn’t as strong as they thought it was.”

She swallowed as she processed that. “Why would that affect Silveny?”

Grady sighed. “If Bronte’s theory is right, it would affect everything—but it’s
not
right. And that’s what you’re going to show them right now.”

“What’s Bronte’s theory?”

“It’s not important.”

“Kinda sounds like it is,” Keefe jumped in, grinning as Grady spun to face him. “Forgot I was standing here, didn’t you?”

“No—I—what
are
you doing here, Keefe?”

“Foster invited me.” He reached out and brushed Grady’s arm. “Whoa—that is some serious tension radiating off of you. Is it that bad?”

“Is it?” Sophie asked as her pulse picked up speed.

“Empaths,”
Grady grumbled as he turned back to Sophie. “There’s
very
little chance that Bronte’s right, Sophie.”

Very little chance.

That was way different than
no
chance.

“I need to know,” she whispered. “What is he saying about me?”

“It’s not worth repeating, Sophie—it’s just going to upset you.”

“Please. I have to know.”

When she didn’t back down, he shook his head. “Fine, if you
really
want me to tell you, I will—but I completely disagree with him.” He ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes as he said, “Bronte thinks that you’re . . . malfunctioning.”

Malfunctioning.

“He thinks that the new abilities the Black Swan triggered aren’t working right—and that it’s affecting your other abilities. Why Fitz can transmit to you now and why you can’t block Silveny’s transmissions and why he was able to inflict on you today.”

“Because I’m . . .
malfunctioning.
” Sophie wasn’t sure if she should be angry or embarrassed or really really scared.

Fitz said she was damaged—but malfunctioning felt worse, somehow. More fundamental.

“He’s wrong, Sophie. Bronte’s been wrong about many things—and this is another clear example.”

“Of course he’s wrong,” Keefe agreed. “If anyone’s
malfunctioning,
it’s him—I heard him try to laugh one time and he sounded like a freaked-out banshee.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t mean anything,” Grady promised.

Sophie knew they wouldn’t stop trying to console her until she agreed, so she gave them her best
there’s nothing to worry about
smile and said, “I guess I need to prove him wrong,” as she headed for the door.

She tried to stay calm as they walked toward Silveny’s enclosure. But the word “malfunctioning” had taken root in her
head, branching out through her brain, weaving together connections she’d never considered before.

She’d already known she was an anomaly. The way the Black Swan had tweaked her genes was something no one had ever seen or done before.

What if the Black Swan had miscalculated something?

That would explain why she had brown eyes—and an allergy.

“Hey, ease up with the walking panic attack, Foster,” Keefe whispered. “Remember, Bronte’s just trying to get in your head. If you let him, he wins.”

He was right—Bronte had been trying to rattle her from the moment he’d met her. But if Keefe knew all the things she knew . . .

She glanced at the sun, feeling the now all-too-familiar ache in her skull as the light seeped in. Was that another symptom?

Friend!
Silveny transmitted when she spotted Sophie approaching.
Friend! Friend! Friend!

Silveny’s eager transmissions only made her panic worse. Were they more proof that her abilities were slowly unraveling?

“Ah, Miss Foster, thank you for agreeing to this demonstration,” Councillor Emery said as she dipped an especially shaky curtsy. “We’re very excited to see what you can do.”

The twelve regal elves stood a safe distance from Silveny’s pasture, giving the jittery alicorn her space. Sophie couldn’t help trying to guess which ones were siding with Bronte. She hoped it was the Councillors who’d never spoken to her.

“What do you want her to do?” Grady asked, squeezing Sophie’s shoulder.

“How about a flying demonstration?” Emery suggested.

“One that doesn’t involve feces,” Bronte added.

“Especially
glittery
feces,” Kenric joked, flashing Sophie a wide smile.

“Whoa—what’s this about sparkly poop?” Keefe asked.

“What is the Sencen boy doing here?” Bronte snapped.

“I’m Foster’s personal bodyguard now. Gigantor wasn’t cutting it.”

“Keefe was helping Sophie get an early start preparing for midterms,” Grady jumped in. “She has some difficult sessions this year”—he glared at Bronte—“but back to the reason we’re here. Sophie, do you think you can control Silveny enough to fly her outside her pasture?”

The plea in his eyes made it pretty clear what her answer should be.

Things must be
really
desperate for him to want her to take such a risk.

“Just give me a minute to explain to her what we’re about to do.”

“Of course,” Councillor Emery agreed.

Sophie made her way to the purple bars of Silveny’s enclosure, stroking the horse’s iridescent snout.
Fly?

Fly! Fly! Fly!
Silveny repeated, whinnying and nuzzling Sophie’s arm.

It’s going to be different this time. We’re going to fly free.
She could feel that Silveny didn’t understand the difference, so she sent her an image of Silveny streaking through a bright, cloudy sky.
Fly free!

The winged horse’s enthusiasm quadrupled and she stamped her hooves.
Fly free! Fly free! Fly free!

“I think she’s ready,” Sophie told them as she made her way to the gate, hoping she’d be able to explain to Silveny that they had to come
back
.

Stay,
she transmitted as Grady undid the lock and let Sophie inside. She could see Silveny twitching like she wanted to take off running, but she stayed put, bowing her head to let Sophie climb on.

“Don’t fly too far,” Grady ordered as Silveny slowly trotted to the gate. “And remember, you’re the one in charge.”

Ready?
Sophie asked Silveny.

Fly free!

Sophie barely had time to tighten her grip before Silveny spread her wings and launched them into the sky. The crisp ocean breeze made her shiver, and Sophie gasped when she glanced down and saw how high they’d already flown.

Easy,
she transmitted.
We have to stay close.

The giddy horse ignored her, swooping past the cliffs and taking them over the shimmering ocean. Sophie refused to think about how very far down the water was.

Silveny curved farther away from Havenfield.

Not too far.

FREE!
Silveny responded.

I know. But we have to stay safe.

She tried transmitting images to help Silveny understand, but Silveny just kept saying
Free!
and flying even farther away.

Sophie glanced behind her and could see Grady—or the tiny speck she assumed was Grady—waving his arms like he was trying to call her back.

Left,
she told Silveny, repeating the command over and over until the stubborn alicorn reluctantly obeyed, making a wide loop through the puffy white clouds and heading back toward the house. But she filled Sophie’s mind with scenes of forests and meadows and wide-open spaces.

Free
, Silveny transmitted again.
Come, friend!

Sophie hated to admit how tempting the invitation was. Maybe it was Silveny’s emotions surging through her veins, or the horrifying fear swimming around her mind, but part of her wanted to let the glittering horse pick a direction and keep flying until they were far away from anyone and everyone who knew what she was.

Havenfield grew closer, and as Sophie stared at the caped figures silhouetted by the sunlight, her insides twisted so tight she wasn’t sure if she wanted to groan from the pain or throw up.

Calm
, Silveny transmitted, sending a rush of warmth. But Sophie couldn’t calm down.

She couldn’t face the Council—couldn’t face their questioning,
condemning stares. Couldn’t face what they thought she was. Or the possibility that it was true.