Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (38 page)

He tilted the book a number of angles, then grabbed a
pencil and started to shade the margin with the side of the point. “If you pressed hard enough as you wrote, we’ll still see the impression in the next page. Trust me, this trick has come in handy
many
times.”

Sophie had no doubt of that as she squinted at the faint white curves and squiggles Keefe had traced. Her heart stuttered as the marks twisted into words.

“I’m guessing this is a good sign,” Keefe said as she scrambled for a notebook to write the message down.

A boy who disappeared.

“Should’ve figured it would have something to do with a boy.”

“I was five, Keefe.”

“What, and cute boys didn’t exist when you were five? Well, it’s true you hadn’t met me yet, but . . .”

Sophie tuned him out as an image resurfaced in her mind. The same vague symbol she’d seen before, similar to the one on Brant’s shirt—but she could see more of the scene now. It was like her mind had zoomed out and she could tell that it was a crest on the shoulder of someone leaning against a tree.

She ran to her desk, grabbed her memory log, and projected the blurry scene before it slipped away.

“Is that a bramble jersey?” Keefe asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“A what? Wait, is that the game you and Fitz were playing?”

“Sorta. We were playing the one-on-one version. There’s a team version too, and every three years we have a championship match. They print special jerseys, and everyone who’s into the game buys like ten of them and wears them all the time. That one was from—”

“Eight years ago?” Sophie guessed.

“Yeah, I think it was. But wait—is this
your
memory?”

“I think so.” She sank to the floor as the room started spinning.

“But eight years ago you were still living with humans.”

“I know.”

She was living with humans and had no idea elves existed. Her telepathy hadn’t even manifested.

And yet, if her blurry memories were right, she’d somehow seen a boy in a blue bramble jersey.

A boy who disappeared.

Y
OU OKAY?” DEX ASKED AS
she leaned on him during orientation.

Sophie yawned and straightened up. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

She’d stayed up late trying to force more of the memory back, and when she finally gave up and went to sleep, she had weird dreams about mysterious boys jumping out from behind trees. It didn’t help that Silveny had added Keefe to her nighttime projections. He kept weaving through the nightmares calling her Glitter Butt, and it made her want to whinny and run in circles.

If it happened again, Sophie was definitely revising her policy on sedatives.

She tried to focus during elementalism, but managed to crack three bottles trying to catch a small storm cloud. Lady Veda, a wispy woman with waist-length braided black hair, did
not
look impressed.

Her afternoon session was even worse. Agriculture was held with all the Level Threes in a garden tucked behind the main building, filled with trees, vines, and bushes that grew up and down and sideways and diagonally. A group of gnomes explained that they would be learning how to cultivate the food served in the cafeteria during lunch so they could properly appreciate the work and energy that went into it. But Sophie discovered that it would be another subject where her human upbringing interfered. By the end of the session she’d been corrected for digging, planting, and raking in ways that apparently destroyed the soil/plants/seeds/entire universe, or might as well have, given the way Barth—the ultra-short, green-haired gnome who’d been assigned to work with her—had panicked.

Add to that another stinky lunch detention with Lady Cadence, and Sophie thought the day couldn’t get any worse. Then Dame Alina’s projection appeared on the walls of study hall.

“Attention, prodigies. I’ve just gotten word from the Council that a special announcement will be made tomorrow morning. Your parents are being contacted as we speak, but make sure they know to look for an official scroll to be delivered to your homes tomorrow morning with specific instructions for when to read.”

She blinked away without any additional explanation, leaving the prodigies to whisper and speculate about what might be happening.

Sophie already knew.

She tried not to cry, tried to remind herself that it didn’t change anything.

But all she could think was,
Tomorrow it will be real.

THE LETTER FROM THE COUNCIL
was delivered the next morning by a courier in a bright green cape, and came with the instruction to open it at precisely 10:00 a.m. The hour-and-seventeen-minute wait was agony—and even though Sophie knew what the message would say, she still burst into tears when she read the precise black script.

It is with our deepest regrets that we inform you that Alden Vacker has been lost to us all. A seed will be planted in the Wanderling Woods at midday for any who would like to pay their respects.

“You don’t have to go,” Grady told Sophie as she wiped her eyes.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to go—and she was
not
going to say goodbye. But of course she was going to be there.

Grady and Edaline didn’t argue, and Sophie excused herself to go to her room. She tried to figure out what she was feeling as she rifled through her clothes—clothes Della had personally picked for her after Fitz brought her to the Lost Cities—but it was a mix of too many emotions.

Calm!
Silveny told her, filling her mind with a rush of warmth. Sophie used it to fuel her as she showered and changed into the emerald green gown she’d chosen. Tiny diamonds dotted the bodice, and the full skirt had so many layers of tulle she was guaranteed to trip at least a dozen times. She felt completely ridiculous as she fastened a jeweled velvet cape across her shoulders, tied part of her hair back with a green satin ribbon, and brushed gloss on her lips. But she knew Della would want everyone to dress their best.

“You look . . . wow,” Vertina said as Sophie checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. “What’s the occasion?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Something in her tone must’ve convinced Vertina, because she didn’t press further. A quiet knock interrupted the awkward silence that followed.

Grady cleared his throat as he entered, looking more regal than she’d ever seen. “Feels like we keep doing this, doesn’t it?” He smiled sadly, and reached into his pocket. “I’m sorry to keep giving you these on such somber occasions, but I thought you might want to wear this.”

He handed her a Ruewen crest pin, identical to the one Brant stole.

“Where did you—?”

“I’ve been in Atlantis a lot lately, so I had the jeweler make it for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as he helped her pin it through her cape.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he took her hand and they walked to the Leapmaster where Edaline and Sandor were waiting. Edaline’s gown was covered in lace and jewels, and even Sandor had changed into silky green pants. No one said anything as they gathered under the crystals, and Grady gave the command for the Wanderling Woods. But Sophie could’ve sworn she heard Edaline whisper, “Here we go again,” as the light swept them away.

S
OPHIE WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN THE
entire elvin world had packed themselves into the Wanderling Woods—but even the massive crowd couldn’t break the unnatural silence of the solemn trees. There wasn’t a dry eye in the group, and the grief was so thick it felt almost tangible, like if Sophie breathed too deeply it might choke her.

Grady and Edaline were needed up front with the Vackers, but Sophie hung back with Sandor, hiding on the fringes and hoping no one would notice her. The last thing she needed was for people to start whispering about “the girl who was taken.” Especially since goblins weren’t supposed to be in the Wanderling Woods. But Sandor had
insisted.

There was no fanfare as the Councillors appeared on the crest of one of the taller hills, and Sophie was surprised to see they’d brought their bodyguards too. She listened for grumblings about the Council letting goblins near the Wanderlings, but all she saw were stunned stares, and no one said a word as Councillor Emery called for Della to step forward.

Sophie was too far back to see what happened next—but that was better. She didn’t want to watch the seed planted, and she reminded herself once again that it didn’t mean Alden was
gone.
Her own “grave” was proof enough of that.

A chime sounded and the silent crowd somehow managed to get quieter. Sophie closed her eyes and tried to think of something happy, but she could still hear the ping of shattering glass that rang through the air, and it felt like everything inside her split open.

That was when the sniffling started. Followed by quiet sobs.

Sophie opened her eyes, feeling them burn with tears when she saw the red, weeping faces all around her. She’d never been surrounded by so much sadness, and it made her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe. She backed away, shoving through the crowd until she found a pocket of space near a Wanderling. She sank to the ground, resting her head on her knees and sucking in deep breaths.

“I should take you home, Miss Foster,” Sandor said, his high-pitched voice sounding way too perky with all the mournful moans.

“No.” She couldn’t leave without paying her respects to the family. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Sophie?”

Sophie looked up and found Tiergan frowning at her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just . . . sad,” she said as she forced herself back to her feet.

“These always are.” He turned to stare at the forest. “Hard to believe only a few short weeks ago I was here for yours.”

Had it really only been a few weeks?

“Wait—you were at my funeral?”

“Of course I was. Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I try not to think about it, honestly. It’s kind of weird.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He fell silent for a second. “You would’ve been pleased by how many people came. Almost as many as today.”

She couldn’t help turning back toward the enormous crowd, which was slowly forming into a receiving line. “Wow, really?”

“Of course, Sophie. Your loss was deeply felt. By
all
of us.”

“I . . . guess it’s a good thing I’m still alive, then.”

He smiled. But when he spoke again his voice was a bit thick. “Yes. It definitely is.”

And that’s how it will be for Alden
, she told herself. This was a mistake. She was going to bring him back.

“I should probably go,” Tiergan said, grabbing his pathfinder from his pocket.

“You’re leaving? You haven’t—”

“The Vackers don’t want to see me, Sophie—and this day is hard enough for them. I don’t want to do anything to make it any harder.”

Sophie stared at her hands. The Vackers didn’t want to see her, either. Would she be making it harder for them by staying?

Tiergan tilted her chin up. “
You
should stay, Sophie. Trust me on that, okay?”

She nodded.

He told her he’d see her in session on Tuesday, then stepped into the light.

Sophie stood there, staring at the space where he’d been.

“Grady and Edaline are nearing the front of the line,” Sandor said, forcing her to snap out of it.

She turned to make her way back toward her family, but as she wove through the crowd she found herself smack in the center of the Hekses. Sophie locked eyes with Stina and braced for some sort of insult or drama. But Stina just wiped her tearstained cheek and stepped aside to let Sophie pass. Sophie could still hear her crying as she joined Grady and Edaline.

“Excuse me, did someone give you permission to cut?” Keefe asked. He tried to sell the joke with a weak smile, but his eyes were too red and swollen.

“I’m sorry,” an elegant woman with blond hair woven into
an intricate braid said. “Just ignore my son if he’s bothering you.”

“He’s not bothering me.” Sophie glared at Keefe’s mother and leaned closer to ask Keefe, “You okay?”

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ve been better.”

Grady wrapped his arm around Sophie. “What about you? How you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess. How about you?”

“It’s strange this time. I’ve only been to two of these ceremonies before—and both times I was the one standing at the front of the receiving line, accepting everyone’s condolences.”

Grady’s voice trailed off and Sophie hugged him tighter, trying to squeeze away his sadness. “I’m still here,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Sophie nodded as the line advanced, bringing them close enough to finally see the small sapling that she didn’t want to look at but couldn’t look away from either. The teal flowers dotting every branch were unmistakable, but the tree seemed frail and thin and not at all like the real Alden. Sophie wanted to rip it from the ground and hurl it away.

They moved forward again and Sophie got her first glimpse of the family. Alvar was his usual immaculate self in an embroidered green jerkin and cape—though his eyes were bloodshot and he seemed especially pale as he held his mom’s hand. Della was stunning as ever, but her green gown hung off her suddenly bony shoulders, and Biana’s gown looked equally loose. And Fitz . . .

Sophie couldn’t look at Fitz.

The Councillors were lined up behind them—all twelve in plain green capes and simple silver-and-emerald circlets. Their faces were blank, and they seemed to stare at nothing as elf after elf greeted the family.

“We are going to fix him, right?” Keefe leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I
really
need to believe that today.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “I hope we can.”

“Hope isn’t good enough, Sophie. Give me a job at least. Something.
Anything.
”

“I’m still trying to figure out what to do.”