Lodestar Read online

  She had been able to search Prentice’s memories through the walls of his cell in Exile—but there was a big difference between stretching her mind to someone a few feet away and searching someone who was probably on the other side of the planet.

  “You’d have a better chance if I help,” Fitz reminded her.

  “Can I be there too?” Biana asked.

  “I’m pretty sure all of us want to be there,” Tam told her. “You’re all welcome to crash here tonight, if that makes it easier.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” Mr. Forkle informed them. “Those with registry pendants need to get back to the Lost Cities quite soon. I’ve had our Technopath scrambling our feeds, but it’s a slapdash cover at best, and if we stay too much longer, the Council might be able to track us to this hideout. Besides, if you decide to follow this plan, Miss Foster and Mr. Vacker are going to need the full weight of their concentration to have even the slightest chance of achieving this rather impossible task. I’m sure they’ll be happy to provide a full report when they’re finished.”

  “I don’t have an Imparter,” Sophie reminded him.

  “I’ll get you another,” Mr. Forkle said.

  And with that, the matter seemed to be decided.

  All that was left to do was head home.

  And wait.

  And hope Keefe didn’t let them down.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  FITZ WENT WITH Sophie back to Havenfield, so they could work through Cognate exercises to prepare, while Biana and Dex went to Rimeshire to see if Dex could hack the registry for Cyrah’s records. They knew it was a long shot, but they wanted to see if her feed had been altered the day she faded.

  “Do you think this is a mistake?” Sophie asked Fitz when they leaped into the surprisingly quiet, empty pastures. Cadoc and Brielle must’ve made Grady and Edaline stay inside.

  “Checking on Keefe?” he asked.

  Part of her wanted to say yes—she still felt scrambled up about their plan. But she had bigger worries at the moment.

  “It feels like we’re wasting time on the wrong things. Especially since we don’t have any actual plans. I mean . . . what is the Collective doing right now—besides shutting down all our ideas and telling us to wait?”

  “I know. I think what happened to Wylie really shook them up.”

  “It shook me up too—but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to sit around doing nothing. I know I’m not as close to him as the Collective is—but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that makes me able to see what really needs to be done.”

  “Which is what?” Fitz asked.

  Sophie looked away, tugging out an itchy eyelash before she asked, “Do you have a pathfinder?”

  “Not with me,” Fitz said, “Why? Where do you want to go?”

  Somewhere she didn’t want anyone knowing—and she needed to do it now, before she changed her mind. They had no bodyguards for the moment. No one even knew they were home. If they were going to sneak away, this was the time.

  But how?

  Making it up to the fourth-floor Leapmaster without Grady and Edaline spotting them was probably impossible. And teleporting created quite the spectacle, between the whole jumping-off-the-cliff thing, and the booming thunder as they slipped in and out of the void.

  They needed something subtler, like maybe . . .

  She ran toward Calla’s Panakes, hoping to find Lur or Mitya tending to the majestic tree. But the only gnome she found was the plaited-haired female she’d seen helping Edaline when they tested the cravettels on Verdi.

  “Did you need something?” the gnome asked, setting down the garland she’d been weaving from the fallen pink, purple, and blue flowers.

  Sophie bit her lip. “Never mind.”

  “Are you sure?” the gnome pressed. “I’m here to help. Especially you, Miss Foster.”

  Sophie’s cheeks burned. “But . . . I don’t even know your name.”

  “Well, there’s an easy way to fix that, isn’t there?” She flashed a green-toothed smile. “I’m Flori. What can I do for you?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Fitz told Flori when Sophie hesitated. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

  Flori tilted her head to study Sophie. “Perhaps that means you’ve come to me as the moonlark?”

  Sophie sucked in a breath.

  “And if that’s the case,” Flori continued, “I’m happy to help. No questions asked. No need to be shy. Please let me assist you, Miss Foster. It would be my honor.”

  Sophie closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of Calla’s blossoms to fuel her courage as she whispered, “If I needed to go somewhere right now, would you take me?”

  “Anywhere,” Flori promised.

  Sophie nodded, mentally running through her plan one more time before she turned to Fitz. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  He grinned. “I usually do. But I also think you’re brilliant—and have solved way more problems than anyone else has. So I’m in.”

  He offered his hand and she took it, turning back to Flori. “I need you to take us to Eternalia.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  FLORI USED THE roots from the Panakes to carry them to the elvin capital city, and somehow that made it feel like they had Calla urging them along their journey.

  Sophie closed her eyes, listening to the fragile sound of Flori’s voice as she sang to the roots, pushing them faster and faster through the narrow, musty tunnel in the earth.

  “I’ll be waiting right here,” Flori promised when they’d come to a stop and she’d opened a hole for them to climb to the surface.

  “Actually, I have my home crystal,” Sophie told her, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming in. “That way you won’t have to worry about being gone too long.”

  “I’m not worried,” Flori said. “And either way, I’ll still stay here, keeping an ear to the ground until I know you’ve leaped safely away.”

  Sophie’s voice sounded thick as she thanked her and turned to climb out of the tunnel. Before she reached the top, she spun back and met Flori’s soft gray eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to talk to you.”

  Flori smiled. “Time is a relative thing, especially when grief is involved.” She patted the roots at her feet. “Someday we can share stories about my aunt. But only when you’re ready.”

  “Wait—you’re Calla’s niece?”

  “I think the proper term is great-great-grandniece. But she always told me the greats meant I was the best.”

  “She was right,” Sophie told her. “And . . . I’d like that.”

  “Me too,” Flori whispered. “Now go, be the brave moonlark you were born to be.”

  “SO ARE YOU GOING TO clue me in to what you’re planning?” Fitz asked as they emerged from the root-lined tunnel and faced the twelve crystal castles glittering in the afternoon light.

  Sophie led him behind one of the towering, palmlike trees that purified the air with enormous fan-shaped leaves.

  “It’s called I’m sick of being patient,” she whispered. “So I’m going to talk to Oralie.”

  She’d expected him to freak out. But all he said was, “Do you know which castle’s hers?”

  “I wish. The only castle I’ve been in was Councillor Terik’s.” She pointed to a castle toward the center of the row. That left them with eleven other choices.

  Fitz shielded his eyes, squinting into the distance. “Well, that one near the end over there has pink flowers lining the path to the door. Think that might mean it’s hers?”

  Oralie did love the color pink—and Sophie couldn’t come up with a better guess.

  “What are we going to say if I’m wrong?” Fitz asked as they bolted down the golden path. “Especially if Councillor Alina opens the door?”

  “I’m really hoping that won’t happen,” Sophie admitted. “And that I’ll come up with a brilliant excuse if it does. I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

  She knocked the moment
she reached the door, not giving herself a chance to wimp out. Each second felt like fifty lifetimes before the door swung open and Oralie’s bright eyes widened.

  “Sophie?” she whispered, her blond ringlets brushing her cheeks as she pulled Sophie and Fitz into the twinkling foyer and shut the door behind them, latching it with five heavy silver bolts. “Let’s hope Alina didn’t see you. She’s in the castle next door.”

  “Ugh. Worst. Neighbor. Ever,” Fitz grumbled.

  “Yes. She is.”

  The sadness laced through the words made Sophie realize . . .

  Councillor Alina had probably moved into Kenric’s old castle. And Sophie had long suspected that Kenric and Oralie had secretly been in love, but couldn’t act on it because they would’ve had to step down as Councillors.

  So imagining them living side by side—and knowing Oralie was now alone—choked off Sophie’s voice as she said, “Well, I’m guessing Alina would be banging on the door by now if she’d noticed us.”

  “I’m sure she would,” Oralie said, checking the bolts again. “And I’m assuming the fact that you’re here unannounced, without bodyguards, and with soil in your hair means that no one knows you’re here.”

  Sophie bit her lip. “The gnome who brought us here does.”

  “Hmm” was all Oralie said to that as she reached for Sophie’s cheek.

  Sophie assumed Oralie was going to brush dirt off her face. But Oralie’s fingers lingered, and she closed her eyes, her forehead crinkling as she read Sophie’s emotions.

  “Looks like it would be wise for me to sit down,” she said when she let go. She led them down a crystal hall without another word and into a diamond-shaped sitting room with overstuffed pearl-trimmed pink armchairs, pink chandeliers, and pink crystals cut into the walls in floral patterns.

  “This is pretty much Biana’s dream room,” Fitz said as he sank into one of the throne-size chairs and propped his feet on the jeweled footstool.

  “She’s welcome to visit anytime,” Oralie told him, taking the chair across from Sophie.

  “Wow, really?” Fitz asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . . you’re a Councillor. I didn’t think you guys were open for visitors.”

  “Most of us aren’t. I’ve gotten many lectures about my lack of constant security, and how I leave myself too vulnerable. But I think it’s important that we make ourselves available to our people. After all, we never know what we’re going to learn.”

  She raised one eyebrow in Sophie’s direction and Sophie took the cue, choosing her words carefully.

  “We . . . need you to set up a meeting with Gethen. And I know he’s in Lumenaria, and that it’s on lockdown because you’re prepping for the Peace Summit. But we need to talk to him.”

  Oralie frowned. “You weren’t hoping to meet with him today?”

  “Is that possible?” Fitz asked.

  “No, definitely not.”

  “What about soon, then?” Sophie pressed.

  “I . . . don’t know.” Oralie’s jeweled heels clicked across the crystal floor as she moved to the room’s furthest corner and stood silhouetted by the sunlight, looking so elegant and regal in her pink ruffled gown that it made Sophie wish she’d shaken the dirt out of her hair before she’d come inside.

  “I assume you won’t tell me why there’s such urgency?” Oralie asked.

  Sophie glanced at Fitz.

  “Your call,” he said.

  “You . . . might want to sit down again,” Sophie mumbled.

  Oralie lowered herself onto the arm of the nearest chair and nodded for her to continue. So Sophie did—telling Oralie the whole story, right down to the ogres searching the Silver Tower, Wylie’s fears about his mother, and Mr. Forkle’s decision not to tell the Council.

  “Please don’t make me regret telling you,” she begged when she’d finished.

  Oralie cleared her throat. “I won’t. And . . . I’m so deeply sorry to hear about Wylie. Does he need anything?”

  “Yeah,” Fitz said. “He needs us to find out what happened.”

  Oralie smoothed the ruffles on her gown. “I fear you’re overestimating my power. I’m only one vote of many—and hardly a popular one at that.”

  “You were the one who fixed Exillium,” Sophie reminded her. “And you did that without getting the support of the other Councillors.”

  “Yes, but that was a problem I could solve with money. This is something else entirely.”

  “I know,” Sophie said. “But there has to be a way.”

  “Not without my telling the rest of the Council—and I do not believe that would be wise. I’m sure some of my fellow Councillors would call for my circlet for saying so, but fear has inspired some of our worst decisions. And there are some who feel drastic measures are the only solution.”

  “Drastic how?” Fitz asked.

  “You’ve already seen the beginning of it. Policing in our cities. Defense training for our citizens. I’m not saying those are bad things. Sadly, they’re incredibly necessary. But where do they lead? Stricter crystal restrictions to further regulate where and when people can leap. Curfews. Much more invasive monitoring of our registry pendants. When rulers stop trusting their citizens, freedom is always the cost. And I can think of several Councillors who will see what happened to Wylie as proof that control is the answer.”

  “And what do you see as the answer?” Sophie asked.

  Oralie sighed. “I honestly don’t know. But . . . I think it starts with people like you. People asking hard questions and taking risks and never letting anything stop them—not because they want power or glory. Because they know it’s the right thing to do.”

  It was a prickly sort of compliment. The kind that made Sophie want to throw her arms around Oralie to thank her—or run away screaming, I don’t need that kind of pressure.

  She settled for staying focused. “Does that mean you’ll help us?”

  “It means I’ll try. But it’s going to take time. I understand your haste—but this is not something I can snap my fingers and make happen overnight. Please don’t let the passing days convince you that I’ve changed my mind. You have my word that I’ll do all I can to help Wylie. His life—and the nightmares he’s endured—is proof of my many failings. He deserves a much safer world than the one I’ve given him.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Sophie told her.

  “No. But I’m not blameless, either.”

  Oralie’s eyes met Sophie’s, so bright and blue it took Sophie a second to realize they were welling with tears.

  “I also need you to promise me you’ll notify me if Wylie has any further problems.”

  “That may be tricky,” Sophie said. “The Imparter you gave me before we fled to the Black Swan was conveniently missing from my bag when they sent home my things.”

  “That sounds like them,” Oralie said, half a smile curving her lips. “But I can authorize any Imparter. Do you have yours with you?”

  “Can we use mine?” Fitz jumped in, pulling the silver gadget from his pocket. “Sophie’s is . . . well, it’s kind of a long story.”

  Oralie took the Imparter and held her finger in the center of the underside. “I suspect you both have quite a few long stories that never make it to the ears of the Council.”

  A green light flashed and she held the gadget close to her lips, whispering, “Permission granted,” and making the Imparter flash blue.

  She handed it back to Fitz. “Perhaps this will allow us to keep each other better updated on many things. I’m not asking for all of your secrets. But there is one thing I need to know.” She turned to Sophie, taking one of her hands as she whispered, “Where’s Keefe?”

  Sophie’s mouth went dry and Oralie must’ve felt the fear seeping out of her skin.

  She nodded, tightening her hold. “I can’t tell you if you should go with your doubt or your faith, Sophie. But either way, don’t let him make Kenric’s mistake.”

  “Wh
at mistake was that?” Sophie managed to whisper.

  Oralie let her go and turned away. “He underestimated Fintan. We all did. Don’t let Keefe pay the same price we paid.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  EVERYTHING OKAY?” GRADY asked as Sophie and Fitz tried—and failed—to sneak upstairs before anyone noticed they were back at Havenfield. They’d barely made it five steps into the living room before everyone spotted them.

  Sophie was still grasping for the best lie when Fitz proved he was way ahead of her and told both of her parents the revelations about Cyrah to keep them distracted.

  “Did you know her?” Sophie asked when Grady turned as white as the couch.

  “Not as well as we should have,” Edaline said, sinking down on a cushion beside him. “We’d crossed paths over the years, but never spent much time together until Prentice’s memory break. She reached out to us afterward, despite how antisocial we’d become. Said it was hard to find others who understood loss.”

  “We didn’t see her much,” Grady added quietly. “But she’d come to visit from time to time. Until she was gone.”

  “The Council actually asked us if we’d be willing to adopt Wylie,” Edaline whispered. “But it was too soon. That’s why we didn’t go to her planting. I knew I’d never get through having to face Wylie after turning him down. I don’t know if he realizes. But . . .”

  “Tiergan was a far better guardian than we could’ve ever been back then,” Grady reminded her.

  “Wow,” Fitz said as Sophie wrapped them both in a hug. “I don’t think I realized any of that.”

  “I doubt your father knew, given his complicated relationship with the Endals,” Grady told him. “It’s strange, though, isn’t it? How small our world truly is? There are always so many subtle connections between everyone and everything.”

  “I know—try keeping up with it all as the new kid in town,” Sophie mumbled.

  No matter how much she learned, how many stories people shared, it felt like she’d never actually catch up.

  Grady hugged her tighter. “You’re doing great, kiddo. Plus, I think it’s good that all of this is new for you. Fresh eyes hold incredible value. In fact, I think I’ll hail Alden and see if he can send me his notes on the day Cyrah died. Maybe I’ll notice something he didn’t.”