Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (30 page)

They were elvin runes.

H
ER MEMORY LOG CRASHED TO
the floor as Sophie raced for her bookshelf, whispering, “Please please please.” She scanned the rows but found no sign of any sparkly pink journal.

She ran to her desk, tearing through the drawers.

“What’s going on?” Sandor asked as he burst into her room—but she was too busy sprinting to her closet to answer.

She flung aside her shoes and unearthed a small pile of wrinkled jeans and T-shirts she’d long since forgotten. But what she needed was the purple canvas backpack underneath. It felt empty when she picked it up, but she still checked each zippered section. All she found were a few crumpled candy wrappers and a broken pencil.

She sank to the floor, rubbing her temples as she tried to think. She remembered rushing up the stairs in her parents’ cramped house, stumbling down the hall and shutting herself in her room to pack. She’d only taken a single backpack, feeling like most of her things didn’t belong to the new life she was starting.

“Please,” Sophie whispered again as she ran through a mental checklist of the items she’d thrown in the bag. Shirts, pants, socks, and underwear to last a few days. A scrapbook she’d made with her mom, full of old family pictures. Her iPod. And . . .

That was it.

Fitz had gone back and grabbed Ella for her a few minutes later. But she left the long forgotten journal in the same place she’d shoved it years ago—the bottom of her old desk drawer, buried under a pile of schoolbooks.

“Miss Foster,” Sandor said, pulling her out of her spinning thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. Not even close.

She’d left behind what was probably the most important clue to the Black Swan—the most important clue to who she was.

She had to find a way to get it back.

“THAT COLOR ACTUALLY LOOKS GOOD
on you,” Vertina told her as Sophie adjusted the mastodon pin on the stupid half-cape of her Foxfire uniform.

She frowned at her reflection. “Really? You don’t think I look like a rotten orange?”

“No, you do. But at least it almost matches your freaky eyes.”

Sophie stepped out of Vertina’s range, wishing she could throw a blanket over the obnoxious mirror. Too bad she was
trying
to be nice and get Vertina to trust her. So far Vertina had answered all of her questions about Jolie by shaking her tiny head and telling her it was “none of her business,” and Sophie had no idea how to bribe a mirror into talking.

She grabbed her Foxfire satchel, ignoring Silveny’s demands that she come play as she climbed the stairs to the Leapmaster. The muffin she’d eaten for breakfast churned in her stomach, but it wasn’t the usual first-day-of-school jitters. Worrying,
Who will I sit with at lunch?
or
What if my Mentors don’t like me?
or even
Will people make fun of my monstrous goblin bodyguard?
seemed pointless in the wake of Alden’s loss.

Grady and Edaline were waiting for her under the crystals.

“You look so grown-up,” Edaline whispered, wiping her eyes.

Grady looked choked up too, but Sophie was more affected by his dark blue cape. It looked just like the one Alden usually wore.

“Try not to be nervous about today,” Grady said as he wrapped Sophie in a hug. “One thing that should make it easier is that the Council has decided to keep what’s happened to Alden quiet until they figure out how best to proceed. The news will come as quite a blow to many, and they want to make sure they figure out how best to deliver it.”

“Can they really keep it secret?”

“They can for a few days.”

It seemed strange to hide something like that from everyone, but . . . if Sophie was honest, a tiny part of her was relieved, too. One less thing to worry about—for a few days at least.

Though it didn’t solve the biggest problems on her mind.

What would she say to Fitz and Biana?

Or worse.

What if they still blamed her for what happened?

“THERE YOU ARE!” DEX SAID
, rushing to the corner Sophie was hiding in on the bottom floor of the glass pyramid. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want Sandor to freak anyone out.”

She’d made him stand against the wall and squat down to be more discreet—though really, she’d been hiding from Fitz and Biana. So far she’d seen no sign of them, and she was hoping to keep it that way as long as possible.

Plus, it felt weird being surrounded by so much excitement and laughter. All the prodigies around her were talking, sharing schedules, trading Prattles’ pins, like there was nothing wrong in the world. She wondered how Fitz and Biana were handling it. It had to be hard pretending like everything was normal when their dad was . . .

Sophie refused to finish the thought. As far as she was concerned,
Alden was just sleeping. She’d find a way to wake him up soon enough.

“Were you listening to anything I just said?” Dex asked, dragging her back to reality.

“Um . . .”

“Ugh. Never mind. The drama getting the triplets ready for school this morning wasn’t that interesting anyway.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a hectic few days.”

“Yeah. How was that assignment thing that I’m not supposed to know about?”

“I’m . . . not allowed to say.”

Dex heaved a sigh as Marella joined them and asked, “Not allowed to say what?”

Sophie was saved from an interrogation by Dame Alina’s projection flashing across the far wall. She gave her most dazzling smile, welcomed them to a new year at Foxfire, and launched into a string of announcements that Sophie couldn’t make herself pay attention to because she was too busy imagining how Dame Alina would take the news about Alden. It was a well-known fact that she’d pined for Alden for years—even tried to steal him away from Della on his wedding day.

“She’s tuning us out again,” Dex said, and it took Sophie a second to realize he meant her.

“Sorry.”

Marella shrugged, but Sophie could tell Dex was annoyed, so she did her best to pay attention as they walked to the atrium
and Dex and Marella argued over what would be a fair trade for Marella’s locker, finally settling on two of Dex’s rarest Prattles’ pins. She also forced herself to listen when Jensi walked her to her first session, even though he was mostly wondering why he hadn’t seen Biana, and every time he said her name it gave Sophie a nervous stomachache. She even tried to listen to Sir Beckett—her new elvin history Mentor—when he launched into a mind-numbing lecture on the establishment of the dwarven treaty. But his dry, toneless voice was almost hypnotic, and the only thing that stopped her from dozing off was the high-pitched wheeze of Sandor’s snoring.

Sophie would never forget the way his eyes bulged when Sir Beckett shook him awake, and she was tempted to ask for recordings of his lectures. Finally, she’d found Sandor’s weakness.

Her smile faded as she made her way to the cafeteria for lunch. Fitz and Biana usually sat at her table, and she had no idea what she’d say to them if they did.

She had no idea what she’d say if they
didn’t
sit with her either.

But in the end it didn’t matter.

The Vackers weren’t there.

Marella and Jensi were speculating about where they could be when Sophie sat down, but she was able to distract them by pointing out that Keefe wasn’t sitting with them either. Jensi told them he’d heard that Keefe had already gotten detention,
and Marella had all kinds of wild theories about what he could have done. Sophie spent the hour playing with her brown mushroom sludge, glad she wasn’t actually hungry.

Apparently, another Foxfire tradition was to make the mushrooms grown for the Ceremonies into some sort of stew that was supposed to make everyone smarter. Mostly it tasted like dirty dishwater, and Sophie was too afraid that the glowworms might also be part of the recipe to eat more than a bite. She hoped the food would be back to normal the next day.

“Are you nervous about your next session?” Dex asked, and it took Sophie a second to remember what her next session even was.

“That’s right—you’re going to the Silver Tower!” Jensi said, scooting closer. “You have to tell us all about it—you’ll be allowed to, right?”

“I think so.” Sophie honestly didn’t know. She was still trying to figure out why she had to take linguistics in the first place. Didn’t being a Polyglot make that unnecessary?

She pretended to be excited as the bells rang and she left her friends to head to the elite towers. But as she made the long, lonely walk across the purple fields to the twisted gold and silver towers, she was tempted to flee back to Dame Alina’s office and request a different session. Or at least an explanation.

The only thing that kept her moving forward was knowing the Councillors were the ones who’d chosen her schedule. She doubted even Dame Alina had the power to make any changes.

The gleaming elite towers were so tall they blocked out the sun, and as Sophie climbed the shadowed steps to the Silver Tower’s door, she couldn’t help feeling like an Oompa Loompa in her ugly orange-and-white uniform.

The arched door wouldn’t open, so she knocked, and the thick metal seemed to swallow the sound. Seconds later a tall elf with far too much shiny gel in his jet black hair opened the door just far enough to lean out and tell her, “You kids don’t seem to realize that interrupting elite study time merits a week’s detention.”

“I’m sorry. The door was locked, and I’ve been assigned a session in here.”

His skepticism was obvious as she handed over her schedule, but his lips twisted into a smile when he read the tiny scroll. “
You’re
the prodigy Lady Cadence was forced to return for?”

Forced?

That didn’t sound like a good sign.

Neither did his sigh as he pulled the door open with a clank of metal on metal and said, “Well, this is going to be
interesting
. I’m Master Leto—the Beacon for the Silver Tower. Welcome to the elite, Miss Foster. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I
’M IN CHARGE OF ENFORCING
the rules,” Master Leto explained, pointing to an official-looking badge pinned to his silver cape. “I’m happy to let you in today, but in the future you should access the tower by submitting your DNA here.” He pointed to a silver strip set into the door about a foot over her head. “Oh, you’re too short to lick it. Hmm. I suppose that means I’ll have to open the door for you twice a week.”

Great—because
that
wasn’t going to be embarrassing.

Then again, the idea of a shared DNA access strip made Sophie want to gag. She still got grossed out licking the one on her locker, and she was the only one who used it.

“Wait—twice a week?” she asked, checking her schedule
again. Sure enough, her inflicting session with Bronte was also in the Silver Tower.

Awesome.

Master Leto motioned for her to come in, but blocked them as Sandor started to follow. “Only approved prodigies may enter.”

“I’ve been charged by the Council to protect Miss Foster wherever she goes.”

“And
I’ve
been charged by Dame Alina to only admit
approved prodigies
.”

Sandor reached for his weapon, but Sophie grabbed his arm. The last thing she needed was to be the Girl Whose Bodyguard Threatened the Beacon. Even if she had no idea what a Beacon was—and thought it was stupid that she had to call him “Master.”

“Is this the only way in or out of the towers?” she asked Master Leto.

“It is.”

“Then if you station yourself out here,” she told Sandor, “you’ll still be protecting me from everything. Right?”

Sandor looked like he wanted to argue, but Sophie pleaded with her eyes until he nodded and stepped back. Master Leto moved aside to let her pass.

“A goblin escort,” he mumbled as they entered a cramped, low-ceilinged room. Blue balefire sconces provided dim lighting, and the only decoration was a statue of the Level Eight
mascot, a silver unicorn staring at them with glittering black eyes. Master Leto placed his palm against the wall next to the door, which made a loud click, like the door had just latched. “Is that the popular new accessory these days?”

He laughed like his joke was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and it pretty much cemented for Sophie that she wasn’t going to like Master Leto.

“Actually he’s there to make sure no one tries to kill me again.”

“Yes, I realize. And it’s a good thing you left your problems at the door. The elite towers are a place for study and private contemplation. Everything else must be set aside. It’s why we’re sequestered away from all distractions and worries. To clear the mind for true enlightenment.” He crossed to the far wall and placed his badge against a small black sensor, opening a compartment filled with silver cloaks. He handed one to Sophie. “No one may progress farther without wearing the noble color.”

Sophie tied the cape over her shoulders, scowling when at least a foot of it dragged along the ground.

“I suppose we aren’t properly prepared to have a . . .” He made a strange series of crackly sounds, and it took Sophie a second to realize he’d called her a “wonder child.”

She blushed.

“So you can understand my dwarven,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Then clearly the problem’s not there.”

“Problem?”

“Yes. We’ve all been trying to guess why Lady Cadence would need to be forced back to Mentor you. Most were assuming there’s some problem with your education that needs to be fixed. You
were
raised by humans, weren’t you?”

He walked away before she could answer—not that she had anything she wanted to say to that.

The room had no doors except the one they’d entered through. But when Master Leto pressed his palm against the left wall, a panel hissed open, creating a doorway.

He motioned for her to go first. “Your session is this way.”