Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3) (45 page)

“How can you say that?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Because it was the only way she could think of to get the people she cared about safely out of that room.

“If Dex can make it so it doesn’t hurt,” she told Grady and Edaline, “then . . . fine. It only affects my abilities, right?”

“Right,” Councillor Alina answered immediately, though Sophie wondered how she could really know. “And it will only be until you’re older and mature enough to handle such things—and until the Black Swan’s threat is contained.”

“The Black Swan is
not
the threat,” Alden said firmly.

“We are not getting into that debate,” Councillor Emery informed him, grabbing Dex’s arm and dragging him forward. “Make the adjustments we need.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sophie promised, when Dex still wouldn’t cooperate. “Please, Dex. I could never live with myself if you got exiled for me.”

“And how am I supposed to live with
this
?” he whispered.

“Comfortable in the knowledge that you did the right thing,” Councillor Emery told him, waving the circlet under Dex’s nose.

Sophie could see the emotions warring in Dex’s eyes and knew he wasn’t ready to agree.

“No one will do a better job making it painless for me,” she whispered.

That seemed to be the key.

Slowly, hands shaking, Dex took the circlet from Councillor Emery and stumbled to Sophie’s side.

“If this hurts her, you will not like what happens,” Grady warned, addressing his threat to the entire group.

“We are well aware of your abilities, Lord Ruewen,” Councillor Emery told him. “Don’t make us restrict you, as well.”

“You’d never get the chance.”

All twelve Councillor’s arms flew up, their hands lightly smacking each side of their faces.

Judging by the mix of fury and fear in their eyes, Sophie knew they’d been mesmerized into the action.

She grabbed Grady’s hand to stop him from going further. “Please don’t fight them. It’s going to be okay.”

Grady’s eyes turned glassy. But he nodded and moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her as Edaline did the same.

“I thought I was helping,” Dex whispered as he stared at his horrible creation. “I never thought . . .”

“I know,” Sophie told him.

“But you tried to warn me. You said I shouldn’t—and I still did—and now . . .”

Dex was crying harder by then, and Sophie could only think of one thing that might help.

She pulled him in for a hug.

“You’re going to hate me now,” he whispered through the sobs.

Sophie promised she wouldn’t, hoping it was true. Then she let Dex go, holding his stare as she reminded him that the Councillors were waiting.

Dex’s hands shook so hard he nearly dropped the circlet as he closed his eyes. His fingers traced up and down the curled silver wires, bending and kinking them in slightly different ways as beads of sweat trickled down his temples. His whole face was dripping when he finally opened his eyes, letting out a choked sob as he held out the gadget.

“Will that fix it?” Councillor Emery asked, taking the circlet before Dex even answered.

“I don’t know,” Dex told him, his voice dripping with venom. “Maybe we should test it on
you
.”

Councillor Emery paled at the suggestion, and his voice was wobbly as he told him, “That would be pointless. You were supposed to be customizing it specifically for
Sophie
. So let’s see if you have.”

“It’s okay,” Sophie whispered as Grady tried to block him. “Dex made sure it’s okay, right?”

Dex’s nod wasn’t nearly as confident as she would have liked. Still, she clung to Grady and Edaline, promising them everything would be okay as Councillor Emery held the circlet over her head.

“I can’t watch,” Elwin mumbled, turning away.

Oralie, Terik, and Bronte did the same.

The rest stared in silence as Councillor Emery placed the circlet around her forehead and pressed the stones against each of her temples.

A sour wave rippled through her body. But there was no blinding headache—just a fuzzy sound in the back of her mind, like static.

“Are you okay?” Grady asked, crouching down to get a closer look.

Elwin was already flashing colors around her head and squinting through the light. “Her cells seem okay. A bit sluggish, but no further damage—so
far
.”

“I’m fine,” Sophie promised, wishing she had something to wash down the sour taste. She sucked in slow, deep breaths, relieved when they eased some of the nausea. “Really, I’m okay.”

Councillor Emery frowned. “Why can’t I get past her blocking? Shouldn’t I be able to?”

“Perhaps the device blocks all telepathic activity, even that from the outside,” one of the Councillors suggested.

“Perhaps,” Councillor Emery said slowly. “But how do we know if the device is actually working?”

“We should test her,” Councillor Liora suggested. “Sophie, can you tell me what I’m thinking?”

“And how will that be conclusive?” Councillor Emery asked. “She could just lie.”

“Then we’ll have Oralie judge her emotions,” Councillor Alina suggested.

“No—I will have
no
part in this,” Oralie told them in the closest thing to a shout Sophie had ever heard her use.

“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

S
OPHIE 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.