Sophie buried her face in her hands. “Someone please kill me now.”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Edaline said as she crossed the bedroom to join them. “Do I want to know what you guys are talking about?”
“Boys,” Sandor and Grady said at the same time.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Edaline sat on Sophie’s other side and patted her knee. “If it helps, he drove Jolie just as crazy. You should ask Vertina to share some of the horror stories.”
“There’s nothing wrong with making sure Sophie knows that we have high expectations for anyone she chooses,” Grady said. “Another thing to keep in mind, kiddo: Whenever you start to narrow it down, I will be having a looooooooooooooong conversation with him.”
“Please tell me he’s joking,” Sophie whined to Edaline.
“Don’t worry, we’ll come up with a plan of attack before your first Winnowing Gala,” Edaline promised.
“I have a feeling I’m really going to regret this question,” Sophie mumbled. “But . . . what’s a Winnowing Gala?”
Edaline smiled. “Whenever you pick up a new match list, it’s customary to hold a party and invite everyone on the list to come, so you can start narrowing down who you might actually be interested in. We never held one for Jolie, because her mind was already made up. But if you’re less decided, the gala can be a fun way to start figuring it out. I know all of this probably feels huge and embarrassing, and I promise we don’t have to talk about it any more for now. But I do want to make sure you know that Grady and I will support whoever you choose.”
She glared at Grady until he agreed.
“And now, we’ll change the subject to something that won’t make you want to tug out all of your eyelashes,” Edaline said, handing Sophie a thin curled-up scroll. “This is your schedule for the Council’s new skill training program. Looks like you’re part of the Wednesday morning group, so you’ll get a break from your grounding at least once a week. And my sister told me that Magnate Leto made sure all of your friends are in the same group.”
“What group are you guys in?” Sophie asked.
“None for the moment. Our house arrest continues.” She kissed Sophie’s cheek before she stood and straightened the fabric of her simple blue-and-white gown.
“Are you heading out?” Grady asked.
Edaline nodded. “The gnomes told me they’d have dinner waiting for you in the kitchen, since I’ll probably be home late.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Sophie asked. “I thought you just said you’re on house arrest.”
“I am. But I’m sneaking out to Alluveterre, where there’s plenty of security to protect me. Juline made the arrangements. She didn’t want to at first, but she’s feeling very guilty for all the things she’s hidden from me over the years.”
“As she should,” Grady grumbled.
Edaline took his hand. “We both know we spent the majority of that time misunderstanding the Black Swan and their role in what happened to our daughter.”
Grady had once believed that the Black Swan killed Jolie to punish him for resisting their efforts to recruit him.
“Why are you going to Alluveterre?” Sophie asked.
“I need to visit Wylie. I owe it to Cyrah to try to help her son. I owed her that years ago and wasn’t strong enough to fulfill it. But I’m hoping it’s better late than never.”
“If there’s anything I can do . . . ,” Sophie said.
“I promise I’ll let you know.” She kissed Sophie’s cheek before she left with Grady, the two of them heading upstairs to the Leapmaster.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Sandor asked as Sophie made her way across the room.
She pointed to her bathroom. “Am I supposed to stay in my pajamas forever?”
“I suppose not. I’ll give you privacy to use the bathroom and get changed. But otherwise, consider us joined at the hip.”
“Well,” Sophie said, flashing her most mocking smile, “at least that means I’ll get to be there for all the dancing.”
Sandor grumbled under his breath as she swung her hips like Grizel.
“I think she likes you,” she called through the door after she’d closed it in his face. She’d expected Sandor to deny it, but he let out a squeaky sigh.
“Grizel has gone to dramatic lengths to make that abundantly clear. She and I grew up together, and everyone assumed we’d someday settle. I’m fairly certain I’m the reason Grizel joined the elvin regiments, even though she’d been offered a position in our queen’s royal guard.”
The idea of a goblin queen was almost enough to distract Sophie—but not quite.
She finished changing and left the bathroom. “So . . . I take it that means you’re not interested?”
“Interest has nothing to do with it.”
“Does that mean you are? Because I actually think you two could be super cute together!”
“I can assure you, we wouldn’t be,” Sandor said, shadowing her as she retrieved her memory log from her desk and headed for her bed. “And I love how you’re suddenly the expert on all things romantic. Moments ago you proved yourself exceptionally clueless.”
“I’m not clueless. I’m . . . realistic.”
“As am I. The reality is that I have no time for a companion, nor do I have need of one. I’m far better suited as a warrior than a husband. I’ve told Grizel as much—several times. And that is the end of any discussion of my love life.”
“I can’t believe you have a love life,” Sophie admitted. “Talk about a mind blow.”
“And why is that?” Sandor huffed. “I’ll have you know that among my species I am quite the specimen.”
Sophie giggled. “Man, I wish Keefe had been here to hear you say that.”
“Interesting that he was the first boy you thought of.”
“Only because he’d start calling you Specimen Sandor. I’ll be sure to tell him during our next check-in.”
“I’m sure you will,” Sandor said. “And on that note, I’ll leave you to record your memories. But I’m right outside should you have the slightest notion of leaving.”
He marched to his usual post, and Sophie slipped under the blankets and opened her memory log. Alden had given her the familiar teal book with the silver moonlark on the cover after she’d discovered that the Black Swan had hidden secrets in her brain, so she’d have a way to keep track of any that triggered. And as she flipped through the pages, it was crazy to see how long it’d been since she’d recorded any of those kinds of discoveries. For months, everything she’d projected were clues and secrets she’d found on her own.
She closed her eyes and slowly projected everything Keefe had shown her, zooming in on the details that seemed most important, like Lady Gisela’s hairpin. The silver-white stone was smooth and oval, but when the light hit it, thin veins of blue shot through in an asterisk pattern.
“Dinnertime!” Grady said, making her jump as he crossed her room carrying a tray with a bottle of lushberry juice and a bowl of what looked like pink spaghetti.
“Already?” Sophie glanced out her windows and sure enough, the sun was setting. “Ugh—I almost missed my check-in with Keefe. These are going to be hard to remember.”
“I think I’ll sit right here, in case you learn anything important from him,” Grady told her, plopping down next to her on the bed and setting the tray in her lap.
Sophie was positive his real motive involved a whole lot of spying. But she closed her eyes and pretended he wasn’t there as she stretched out her mind.
Really bad time right now, Keefe told her.
You’re okay, though, right?
Yeah, I just need to pay attention.
She could feel his mind trying to close down and concentrate, so she didn’t ask any more questions. But a sour taste coated her tongue.
“He can’t talk right now,” she told Grady as she pushed the tray of food away.
“If he was in danger, I’m sure he wo
uld’ve told you,” Grady said, nudging her dinner back into her lap. “At least try a few bites. Flori told me it’s a rare fruit called threadleens, and she grew them especially for you. When did you guys start talking?”
Sophie stirred her dinner, hoping Grady wouldn’t notice that she didn’t answer. “Did you know she’s Calla’s niece?”
Grady nodded. “I swear the Panakes sprouts twice as many blossoms every time Flori sings.”
Sophie smiled as she pictured that, and she took a small bite of the pink strings—and while it definitely wasn’t as delicious as starkflower stew, it tasted spicy and tangy and made her want to keep eating.
Grady scooped up her memory log as she took another forkful. “Is this the pin Keefe’s mom cut him with?”
“Yeah—any idea where Lady Gisela would’ve bought it?”
“Not really. Lots of places make hairpins with starstones—though I’m pretty sure the stones usually flash with green veins.”
“She told Keefe it was rare.”
“Well, I’ll ask some of the jewelers I know in Atlantis, but I’m betting whoever made it won’t admit it. See how there aren’t any etchings on the metal? Most artists leave a craftsman mark, like a signature.”
He flipped to the next page, which showed a wide view of the door—the cold metal surrounded by snow and shadows.
“The star only rises at Nightfall,” he mumbled, pointing to the runes carved into the doorframe. “That’s what these say.”
Sophie repeated the phrase. “Do you think it’s a riddle?”
“Riddles usually lead to a What am I? But I’m sure the word ‘star’ isn’t a coincidence.”
“Could it be a quote from something, then? Like how the Black Swan used ‘follow the pretty bird across the sky’ from that old dwarven poem?”
“If it is, I’ve never heard it before. But I’m definitely not an expert on those kinds of things. Maybe the Collective can show it to their dwarves to see if it sounds familiar.”
Sophie hoped they would—though she was pretty sure she could guess at least part of the meaning.
Whatever Lady Gisela had built.
Whatever she’d locked away with Keefe’s blood.
It was going to make the world a much darker place.
FORTY-SIX
PLEASE TELL ME you’ve learned something we can use, Sophie transmitted as soon as the first rays of dawn sliced through her bedroom.
Well, good morning to you too, Keefe thought. Is this how these extra check-ins are going to be? No ‘hello’? No ‘I missed you’? No ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’?—and don’t even try denying that last one.
Sadly, she couldn’t—but not for the reason he was teasing. He’d told her during their final check-in the night before that he’d heard Fintan get an urgent hail on his Imparter and use the word “escaped” during the conversation. But when she’d asked if that meant they were planning something for Wylie, Keefe had to go because Alvar and Ruy were fighting.
You’re so cute when you worry, he told her.
Sophie grit her teeth. Be very glad I haven’t figured out how to mentally smack you. It’s on my list of goals.
Fine. Forgive me for trying to have a little fun after yesterday’s drama. I guess Fintan’s blaming Ruy and Brant for Wylie’s escape, since Brant burned one of Wylie’s bonds, and Ruy was the one who was supposed to clear out all of Wylie’s pockets. Brant doesn’t seem to care, but Ruy’s flipping out because Fintan’s threatening to change their role in some big project coming up—and no, I don’t know what the project is. So Ruy spent most of last night trying to convince Alvar to say that all four of them share the blame for what happened, and Alvar won’t.
No honor among criminals, huh?
Nope, Alvar’s all about watching his own back. So Ruy left to try to talk Trix and Umber into it. I’m assuming that means I was right and Umber was the fourth kidnapper.
Did you ever tell me what her ability is?
I probably forgot. She’s a Shade. A freakishly powerful one. She puts Bangs Boy to shame—and she doesn’t have stupid hair.
I thought she always hid under her cloak.
She does. But as the crowned king of good-hair land, I can tell when I’m talking to one of my rightful subjects.
That might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.
Doesn’t mean it’s not true. How else would I know that you have an adorable case of bed hair right now?
I do not!
But when she patted her hair, she was pretty sure the whole pineapple-head situation was back. She burrowed deeper under her covers. Did you learn anything else?
Just that it’s a bad time to be asking questions. But after everyone went to sleep, I tore open the seam in my cloak and found another black disk right where you said it would be.
Did it have a different piece of the symbol on it?
Nope, it’s the same marking. And I snuck out of bed and checked all the doors to see if I could figure out what the disk does. But so far no luck.
So basically . . . we lost a whole day and learned nothing.
Whoa—when did you become Little Miss Negativity?
I’m just sick of all these vague bits of information. You’re sleeping under the same roof as the enemy, and we still have no idea what they’re planning.
I know. I’m working on it. We just have to be—
If you say “patient,” I’m ending this conversation.
Yeah, I sound like the Forklenator—and don’t go into shock, but . . . I think I’m starting to understand what he means. Look at what happened with Wylie. The Neverseen made their move, and they botched it. And now the Black Swan will make sure they never get another shot at it.
Uh . . . isn’t that good?
For us, yeah. But not for the Neverseen. That’s the thing—if Fintan gets too suspicious of me, I’ll ruin my chance and that’ll be it. So I have to make sure I wait until the time is right.
Wow, who are you and what have you done with Keefe Sencen?
Is all of this wisdom killing my cool cred?
A little. But . . . wise Keefe has a way better shot of getting out of this alive.
Oh, I’m getting out of this—unless the food here kills me. These kernalfruits we just harvested taste like banshee droppings. Next time I fake-join an evil organization, remind me to choose one that hasn’t angered the gnomes, okay?
She could see the shriveled green fruit in his mind, and it looked like a cross between a pomegranate and an ear of corn—which wouldn’t have been that bad, if the grains of fruit hadn’t been coated in a black powder that looked way too much like mold.
How about you go get something good from the kitchen and describe it as you eat it? he asked.
Yeah, I’m not going to do that.
Aw, come on, Foster—I’m starving here!
He spent the rest of their conversation recounting the horrible things he’d had to eat over the last few weeks.
The whining resumed that night, during their dinner check-in—though Sophie couldn’t blame him. Keefe’s meal consisted of slimy, withered leaves that tasted like sneeze.
I’ll keep snacks in my pocket, she promised. That way if we meet up again, I can share.
As if I needed another reason to wish you were here.
Shouldn’t you be wishing you were here—where the food is good and there aren’t any crazy murderers running free?
That does sound nice. But the crazy murderers are useful. I learned something from Fintan today—not what I was hoping to find out, but it’s still important. He started venting about Brant and Ruy, and how frustrating it is to work with people who disappoint him again and again. And then he said he’s counting on me to live up to my potential.
Potential for what?
He didn’t say. But I took a chance and asked if he wanted me to do the Empath-lie-detector thing when he meets with King Dimitar. I told him I was worried the ogres were going to double-cross us, and he seemed imp
ressed that I was thinking about things like that. He said it’s good to see that I care so strongly about his vision—and of course he didn’t say what his vision is. But he draped his arm around my shoulders—
UGH!
Yeah—I wanted to shove him away, trust me. But I held still and listened while he told me he’s worried about the ogres too. And then he said that he gave King Dimitar an assignment to prove they can work together—kind of like a test.
Sophie sat up straighter. That’s perfect! We need to find out what that test is and make sure the ogres fail!
Working on it, Keefe promised. But I’m assuming whatever the ogres are up to will involve someone getting hurt, so no ditching Gigantor, okay?
Like I could. Did I mention you got me grounded? I’ve been stuck in my room all day with nothing to do except stare at my memory log. And Sandor’s standing next to me right now, telling me he wants to know everything you’re saying.
Aw, give him a kiss for me—and I’m not saying that to be a brat. I’m seriously glad he’s there to protect you. Everyone else has a bodyguard, right? Fitz? Biana? Dex? Grady? Edaline? Alden? Della?
Everyone except Alden and Della. But they rarely leave their house, so they’re safe.
I don’t know. The gates at Everglen are designed to block people from light leaping in. That won’t stop ogres from popping out of the ground.
She closed her eyes, trying to squeeze out the nightmare scene Keefe had just painted. I’ll ask the Collective to send some additional guards for the Vackers—maybe dwarves, so the Neverseen won’t notice any changes if they’re watching. I swear, at this rate, our group has more security than the Council. Seems unfair, doesn’t it?
What do you mean?
I don’t know. It’s just . . . we spent hours prepping Havenfield to keep my family safe—and while we were doing that, the Neverseen snatched Wylie out of his room and tortured him.
I’m so sorry I messed that up. I’d heard them talk so much about your family that when Fintan said we were ready to shift to the next phase, I thought—
The next phase of what? Sophie interrupted.