Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3) (7 page)

Alden sighed. “I’m not convinced that anyone—even Fintan—deserves to spend an eternity trapped in the madness of a broken mind.”

She reached for his hand, wondering how much he remembered about his own shattered days.

“I do understand why you’re reluctant to heal Fintan, though,” he added quietly. “And I hold many of the same reservations. But Fintan has information that could lead us to the rebels. He managed to stop us from taking it during the memory break, but thanks to you, we have a second chance to learn who he’s protecting. And you know better than anyone how important that information is.”

But the thought of entering Fintan’s mind again . . .

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Alden promised.

Sophie sank heavily into her chair. “It just seems so . . . unfair. Why does Fintan get to be healed when Prentice is stuck with a broken mind? The only crime Prentice committed was protecting me!”

Shadows settled into Alden’s features, making him look twenty years older. “Believe me, no one is more aware of that than me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t—and you don’t have to worry, I’m not feeling guilty. Well, not
too
guilty, anyway. I’m simply frustrated, like you. In fact, I made the same point to Kenric while he was here. But he explained to me that
that’s
the problem. Fintan’s easy. With or without his mind healed, he’s guilty, and had he given us the information we needed in the first place, we still would’ve exiled him for his crimes. But Prentice is an entirely different situation. He’s not necessarily guilty, but he’s not exactly innocent either. The Black Swan are still classified as rebels. Yes, some of the things they’ve done are good things. But they’ve done them illegally. And that makes Prentice still technically a criminal. Essentially, Prentice is a lovely shade of gray. And the Council only knows what to do with black and white.”

“So they’ll leave his mind broken forever?”

“Nobody said
forever
, Sophie. But for now, when there is no obvious solution, the Council has decided to give themselves time to think through all the possible options, until the best course of action becomes clearer. I don’t think you understand how ill equipped our world is for these kinds of issues. The Council is facing dilemmas that have never been seen in all the thousands of years of our history. They’ve accepted that now is a time for change. But they want to make sure it’s the
right
change, and they need more information before they move forward—information that Fintan hopefully has. Will you help get it for them?”

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“It was an order, yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure you’re okay with this. You’re a very talented girl, and as a result you’ve had tremendous responsibilities heaped on your shoulders. But you’re also thirteen. If this is too much, I
will
go back to the Council and make them reconsider. I already warned Kenric—and he agreed.”

Sophie doubted Alden and Kenric would be able to change their minds. The Councillors seemed to be getting increasingly divided in decisions concerning her.

And it didn’t matter. Much as she dreaded having to see Fintan again, he really was her best chance at stopping her kidnappers.

“I’ll do the healing,” she said, wishing her stomach didn’t feel so squirmy as she said it.

Alden smiled sadly. “You never cease to amaze me, Sophie. And I promise, there
will
be a day when your life goes back to normal.”

Sophie wasn’t sure she even knew what a “normal life” meant for an elf. But she hoped she’d get to find out someday.

“So when am I supposed to heal him?” she asked.

“Kenric said the Council is still making the arrangements. Given what happened last time, they want to be sure they’ve considered every variable, so that there will be no issues.”

“Issues” was putting it mildly.

She’d never forget the searing pain when Fintan burned her wrist to break their concentration, or finding Alden unconscious on the floor, his head streaked with red.

“It
will
be safe this time,” Alden promised—and Sophie tried to believe him. But her legs were pretty shaky as she stood to leave.

“Wait, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Alden asked.

“Oh, right.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about Silveny.

Sophie showed him the silver tracker, explaining where she’d found it, and how Greyfell had known it was there. Alden’s jaw clenched tighter with every word.

“Well,” he said after an endless stretch of silence, “I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.”

Alden had said those words to her dozens of times since she’d met him. But she’d never believed them less.

“Don’t you think we should move Silveny somewhere secret?” she asked. “Not that Jurek’s not doing a great job. He’s trying really hard. But the rebels still found a way in. Just like they found a way into Havenfield that time we found the footprint.”

It might even be the same Pyrokinetic who snuck into both places. Unless . . .

“Do you think those tracks the goblins found outside the Sanctuary were made by ogres?”

“How did you know about that?” Alden asked.

“Keefe told me. And I saw the effluxers.”

Alden nodded and turned to pace, crossing the room three times before he said, “The thing you have to keep in mind when it comes to goblins, Sophie, is that they tend to assume the ogres are behind
everything
. In fact, both species are always accusing the other of violating the treaties we’ve worked so hard to put in place. So yes, the goblins on patrol discovered some strange tracks—tracks that definitely shouldn’t have been there, which was why we investigated them so thoroughly. But Alvar found no proof that the tracks were connected to the ogres in any way. And neither did Lady Cadence.”

“Lady Cadence, my linguistics mentor?” Sophie interrupted.

“Yes. She was living with the ogres before she was brought back to mentor you, remember?”

Yes, and she seemed to deeply resent Sophie for it.

“Why
did
the Council choose her to mentor me?” Sophie couldn’t resist asking.

“Because she’s the most talented linguist in our world, and giving you the best training possible is far more important than her research into ogre technology. And it’s good we have her back, because she was able to make us those effluxers, which we added outside the Sanctuary just to be safe. And speaking of safe”—he held out his hand—“I’ll need to keep that tracker, so I can show it to the Council.”

Sophie handed it over, happy to be rid of it. The last thing she wanted was to have the rebels know her every move—which made her wonder . . .

“Why would the rebels even bother tracking Silveny? I mean, they already know she’s in the Sanctuary. Why risk getting caught, just to be able to monitor her every move?”

“
That
is what I intend to find out.”

He flashed his most confident smile, and Sophie did her best to accept it. But she still vowed to do everything she could on her own.

“You’re going home?” Alden asked as she held her home crystal up to the light.

“Yeah. If I’m not back by sunset, Sandor’s going to murder Keefe.”

Alden glanced out the window, where the last splashes of pink were fading into the purple twilight sky. “I guess I should warn Keefe to flee for his life.”

Sandor was waiting outside Havenfield when Sophie arrived, and his glare told her he was very aware she’d missed her curfew. But all he said as he sheathed his long black sword and motioned for her to follow him inside was, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Sophie turned in the opposite direction.

She knew the Black Swan wanted her to sit back and wait—but the rebels had just changed the game.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sandor asked, keeping pace with her as she made her way through the pastures.

Her palms turned sweaty as she pressed her thumb against the sensor on the padlock to the Cliffside gates, and the green flash seemed especially bright as it clicked open—or maybe that was because the path beyond the gate looked so much darker than normal.

“I demand to know what’s going on,” Sandor said as he blocked her from heading down the stairs.

She tried to push past him, but it was like slamming into a rough-skinned mountain. “I just . . . need to leave a note.”

“A note,” Sandor repeated.

“Yeah.” She reached into her pocket, tracing her fingers around the tiny green bottle she’d unearthed earlier.

The Black Swan had sent her dozens of messages over the last few months.

It was time to send one of her own.

NINE

T
HE PLAN HAD SEEMED SO BRILLIANT,
until Sophie reached the cold, sandy shore.

She’d never been to the cave at night, and now she understood why. The roar of the surf sounded like a snarl, and the shadowy rocks looked like faces and limbs. Even the moonlight—and the blue glowing sphere Sandor had pulled from one of his pockets—couldn’t convince her eyes that she wasn’t stumbling into the lair of giant beasts.

Sandor led the way, keeping his sword at the ready as he sniffed the air and tasted the wind. But as the icy waves crashed onto the shore, Sophie realized they had bigger problems than invisible enemies.

The cave she’d dreaded returning to—the place she and Dex had been drugged and dragged away from—sat half-drowned by the high evening tide.

“Looks like we’ll have to try again in the morning,” Sandor said, turning to head back.

“No, I
have
to get in touch with the Black Swan as soon as possible. It’s about Silveny,” she added, before Sandor could ask.

If he knew it was actually about the rebels, he’d drag her straight to her room—and probably barricade her inside.

Sandor breathed a squeaky sigh. “You’re positive you can reach them this way?”

“They left me a note here once before. And I’m pretty sure they’re still watching me.”

She hoped they were, anyway—which felt strange. Who knew she’d miss her Black Swan stalkers?

“Fine.” Sandor let the word stretch out like a groan as he held out his hand. “Give me the note. I’ll place it in there for you. A few piddly waves won’t stop me.”

Sophie doubted a rampaging T. rex could stop him. But as she reached into her pocket, she discovered another detail she hadn’t really thought all the way through.

“Do you, uh . . . happen to have a pen?”

The look Sandor gave her could’ve withered flowers, but he dug a wide pencil out of his ankle pocket and handed it to her. “Tell me you brought paper.”

“Of course.” It wasn’t necessarily paper she’d wanted to use, but it would do the job.

She slipped the Black Swan’s note from the green vial and flipped it over to the back.

“I assume you’ll be explaining where you found that once we’re done here—and why it reeks of humans?” Sandor asked.

Sophie kept her eyes focused on the paper as she nodded. Not only was she
not
looking forward to telling Sandor about teleporting to the Forbidden Cities, but she was realizing that she’d forgotten to explain it to Alden, as well. She’d have to find a chance to tell him, before he heard about it from Lord Cassius.

“Better hurry,” Sandor told her as a wave soaked them up to their ankles. “The tide is still rising.”

“I’m trying,” she said, hastily scribbling the only thing she could think of.

It wasn’t particularly clever, and it definitely didn’t rhyme. But she still made it clear that it was time for the Black Swan to come out of wherever they’d been hiding.

Things are happening, and I need your help. When and where can we meet?

Sandor scowled when he read what she’d written. But all he said was, “Wait here,” as he headed toward the cave. “And I expect you to sing the whole time I’m gone.”

Sophie laughed. “Oh wait—you’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. It’s how I’ll know you’re not in trouble.”

Sophie was about to argue that she could just scream if there were danger, but then she remembered the sweet-smelling cloth the kidnappers had pressed over her nose and mouth, knocking her out cold.

The only thing she could think to sing was a cheesy song her sister used to torment her with: a single verse repeated over and over, about how the song never actually ended. She was on the tenth repetition by the time Sandor was back at her side.

“That’s going to be stuck in my head for the rest of my life,” he grumbled.

“You’re the one who told me to sing.”

He didn’t return her smile.

“You tucked the note somewhere they’ll be able to see it, right?” she asked.

“The back of the cave has a small indent partway up the wall, well above the tide line but still low enough to see. If they’re watching, there’s no way they’ll miss it.”