Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3) Page 23

  “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” Fitz said as he stepped out of the darkness. “If I’d noticed the flames earlier, or been a better guide—”

  “This was not your fault, Fitz,” Sophie promised.

  “Nor was it yours,” Alden said firmly. “No matter what you think. No matter what happens in the coming days. I want you both to know this, and hold to it, and believe it. This. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. Remember that. And remember what happened to me when I tried to hold on to guilt and blame.”

  The reminder felt like a bucket of ice water, splashing them both awake.

  But Sophie couldn’t make herself believe him.

  Like it or not, she had played a role in Kenric’s death—and she would have to square with that someday.

  But if she let the guilt break her, his sacrifice would be a waste, and she refused to let that happen either.

  She’d hold herself together the same way Grady had when he lost Jolie.

  She would focus on rage.

  Her anger boiled inside her and she drank it in, letting it settle into her heart and burn the fear and sadness away.

  She wouldn’t rest until she found the Pyrokinetic Fintan was protecting. And once she did, she would make him pay.

  THIRTY-NINE

  TIERGAN BROUGHT SOPHIE HOME, AND she took him up on his offer to break the news to Grady and Edaline without her.

  When Alden’s mind had broken, she’d insisted on being there, wanting to be brave and strong and support her family. But she couldn’t handle another teary, heartbreaking scene.

  She needed to hold on to her rage.

  She left everyone downstairs—avoiding their worried glances—as she dropped her singed cape in a heap on the floor and followed Sandor up to her room. He said nothing as she closed him outside, probably too busy eavesdropping on what Tiergan was saying. But Sophie didn’t want to hear. She locked herself in her bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the sound of falling water drown out the world.

  Flakes of ash sprinkled the floor as she kicked her clothes to the corner, wishing she could tear them to tiny threads. She grabbed every bottle of shampoo she could find and stepped under the colored streams of cold water, glad to feel her body shiver.

  She’d had enough heat to last a lifetime.

  She washed her hair so many times she lost count, though when she finally turned off the water, she could still smell the smoke. She tied the dripping, soggy strands away from her face, threw on her pajamas, and stumbled to bed. But she could see the Everblaze behind her eyes.

  The bright, neon yellow flashes were seared to her eyelids, and no matter how hard she blinked, they wouldn’t fade away.

  “How can I help?” Sandor asked, hovering in the doorway, silhouetted by a sliver of light.

  Sophie rolled to her side, not wanting to look at him as she whispered, “I think I’d like to try slumberberry tea.”

  She’d expected some sort of triumphant “It’s about time!” But all she heard were the heavy thuds of Sandor’s feet as he rushed to grant her request.

  She lay still, trying not to think about what she was doing, until the footsteps returned, bringing with them the scent of something sweet. But when she turned to grab the tea, the person offering it to her was Edaline.

  “Sandor said you requested this,” she said, holding out the fragile pink teacup.

  Sophie took it slowly, trying not to let her shaky hands spill the steaming liquid. But she froze with the cup halfway to her lips.

  The tea was purple, with a slight shimmer—like the bubbling flows of amethyst lava coating the ground outside Oblivimyre.

  Edaline grabbed the cup as it started to slip from Sophie’s hands, and she set it down on Sophie’s nightstand.

  “Slumberberry tea can be a wonderful thing,” Edaline said, sounding surprisingly calm as she sat next to Sophie on the edge of the bed. “But I know how you feel about sedatives. That’s why I also brought you these.”

  She pulled a black vial from her pocket and placed it in Sophie’s lap. The bottle was small and narrow—no wider than Sophie’s finger—and covered in tiny silver dots, with a strange silver lid that felt squishy when Sophie touched it.

  “It’s called somnalene,” Edaline explained. “It’s the nectar of the starglass flower, and it’s not a drug. All you need is one drop in each eye to help you sleep. It used to work for me.”

  “How?” Sophie asked, unscrewing the bottle and filling the eyedropper with the shimmering silver liquid.

  “It’s hard to explain until you see.”

  Sophie scooted down, tipping her head back so Edaline could hold her eyelids open and squeeze one drop into each of her eyes. The cool silver liquid felt blindingly bright as it spread across her corneas. But as the tears settled, she sucked in a breath.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Edaline asked.

  Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word.

  A million flecks of light shimmered and flashed behind her eyes, like she had a tiny universe tucked inside her mind.

  “They call the effect ‘midnighting,’” Edaline explained. “It’ll last about eight hours before it fades.”

  “It’s amazing,” Sophie breathed.

  The lingering yellow glow of the Everblaze faded in the twinkling lights, and Sophie breathed a sigh of relief—even as her insides squirmed like snakes.

  She didn’t deserve to have her guilt fade—not until she made the rebels pay.

  “Hey,” Edaline said, wiping a tear off Sophie’s cheek. “If you cry it all out, it can’t help you sleep.”

  “Good,” Sophie mumbled, rolling away.

  Edaline placed a gentle hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “You’re missing the point of the somnalene. It reminds us just how small we really are, and how big the rest of the world is by comparison. One person is not the source of anything—it’s millions of pieces all working together. And it shows us that there’s always hope—always light. No matter how much darkness we might be facing.”

  Her hand had started to trace slow, careful circles down Sophie’s spine, just like Sophie’s human mother used to do when she was a little kid.

  “I never should have come here,” Sophie whispered. “If I’d just stayed with the humans, none of this would have happened.”

  “Our world has been teetering on the edge of a blade for a very long time, Sophie. In fact . . . I think that’s why you’re here—why you grew up where you did. So you could see our world through different eyes. Help us find our way. Just like you did for Grady and me. You’ve made us whole again. Given us back our lives. Now it’s our turn to help you.”

  She brushed another tear off Sophie’s cheek.

  “I want you to know that Grady and I are here for you, okay? I know you try to protect us. And I know you like to do things on your own. But we’re all going to lean on each other this time. Please don’t push us away.”

  Maybe it was because Edaline sounded so strong and sure.

  Or maybe Sophie just couldn’t face another long, lonely night.

  Either way, she tightened her grip on Edaline’s wrist and whispered, “Will you stay here tonight?”

  “Of course.” Edaline kissed Sophie’s cheek and settled under the covers, stroking Sophie’s back again.

  Slowly, very very slowly, Sophie finally fell asleep.

  And when she woke up and found Edaline still sleeping peacefully next to her, she knew she was ready to face the day.

  FORTY

  NEWS OF THE FIRE SPREAD faster than the Everblaze, and when Sophie came downstairs for breakfast, a scroll from the Council sat waiting on the kitchen table.

  Sophie sank into her chair next to Grady and took one of the colorful pastries from the platter in the center. The gooey cake was covered in sugar and sprinkles—but it turned to sour in her mouth when sh
e read the Council’s message:

  TOMORROW AT MIDDAY WE WILL HONOR THE LIFE AND LEGACY OF

  COUNCILLOR KENRIC ELGAR FATHDON

  BY PLANTING HIS SEED IN THE WANDERLING WOODS

  AN ADDRESS FROM THE COUNCIL WILL FOLLOW,

  ALONG WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR NOMINATION PROCEEDINGS.

  “What do they mean by nominations?” Sophie asked, rolling up the scroll so she wouldn’t have to look at it.

  “Nominations for the next Councillor.”

  “They’re replacing him already?”

  “They have to, Sophie. The very foundation of our world has been shattered, and we must rebuild it immediately. That doesn’t mean we won’t grieve. But we must also keep working to protect our people. You can’t tell me that’s not what Kenric would’ve wanted.”

  She couldn’t.

  But she still hated it.

  She stood, wandering to the wall of windows, watching the dinosaurs graze in the pastures beyond.

  “How do the nominations work?” she asked, not sure she’d be able to survive a long campaign with speeches and debates.

  Grady moved to stand beside her. “The public will be allowed to privately submit nominations for members of the Nobility who qualify for consideration. Then the Council will ultimately decide.”

  “And how long does that normally take?”

  “It depends on how quickly the Councillors agree. But I suspect this time will move incredibly quickly. I only hope they’ll elect a Councillor as compassionate and considerate as Kenric.”

  Sophie couldn’t help hoping the new Councillor would also be on her side. She hated to admit it—hated herself for even thinking it. But Kenric had always been one of her strongest supporters. Losing even one vote could sway the rulings against her.

  “Is there any chance you or Alden will be nominated?” she asked quietly.

  “No—thankfully. The Councillors aren’t allowed to be married. It’s their responsibility to make decisions for the good of all people, and having a wife or children could threaten their impartiality.”

  “But . . . what if they fall in love?”

  “Then they can choose to resign from the Council—which definitely has happened in the past. Or they can opt to ignore the feelings. The choice is entirely up to them.”

  Suddenly Kenric’s longing looks at Oralie made much more sense. Which made Sophie’s heart extra heavy.

  Kenric sacrificed so much for the good of his world—and look how his world repaid him.

  No—not his whole world, Sophie corrected.

  A small band with their own agenda.

  Villains.

  She was tired of calling them “rebels.”

  They were kidnappers.

  Killers.

  And she was going to stop them.

  “I’ve seen that look in your eye before, Sophie,” Grady said, resting a hand on her shoulder, “and I can’t say I blame you for it. I also doubt I can stop you. So I’m only going to ask you one thing: Remember who you can trust, and keep them close. Don’t push them away.”

  Sophie nodded, and he pulled her into a hug.

  “If I might add something,” Sandor said behind them. “I would like to renew my request for you to stay by my side. I am already getting reports of highly increased unrest among the public, and I fear in the coming days you will need more protection than normal.”

  “Because everyone blames me,” Sophie mumbled, trying to pull away from Grady.

  Grady tightened his hold. “The people of our world fear the new and the different. But you are brave and strong and smart enough to not believe what they say. Trust your friends and your family, know that they love you and will support you no matter what.”

  “And keep your bodyguard close,” Sandor added.

  “Yes, and that.” Grady sighed, trailing his hand through Sophie’s hair. “I know you don’t want to talk about yesterday, Sophie—and I respect that. But if you change your mind, I’m here.”

  Sophie squeezed him tighter, blinking back her tears.

  She wasn’t going to cry.

  She was going to fight.

  “By the way,” Grady said, slowly letting her go. “Tiergan asked me to tell you to record everything you remember from yesterday—not just what you saw in Fintan’s mind. The Council is trying to piece together what happened during the fire.”

  Sophie’s eyes dropped to her feet. “I doubt I’m going to be much help. If Fitz hadn’t warned me about the Everblaze, I probably wouldn’t have realized what was happening until it was too late. I think that was Fintan’s plan.”

  Grady’s expression turned murderous. But he said nothing as Sophie turned and headed upstairs.

  She pulled out her memory log and spent the rest of the day fighting to remember anything that might give her something to go on.

  She projected the memory Fintan had once again managed to stop her from recovering and placed it side by side with her other projection from the first break with Alden.

  She could see more of the mysterious pyrokinetic’s robe—though there was nothing special about it, except perhaps the vivid red color. She could also see the shape of his face. The edges were blurred, but his chin was prominent and his dark hair looked neatly styled. So he was probably someone who cared about his appearance.

  Probably, Sophie thought bitterly, shoving the memory log aside.

  All she could do was guess and speculate about pointless details—hardly the revelation she needed.

  She was about to close the log and tuck it away, when she noticed one final difference between the two projected scenes. She’d been concentrating so hard on her kidnapper, she’d forgotten to notice that she could see more of Fintan, too—especially in the early part of the memory, when he was pointing at the star he was teaching her kidnapper to call.

  His cloak was black, with long, thick sleeves. And near the top of his shoulder was a white patch with an eye.

  Keefe had seen the same patch on the rebels, so to see Fintan wearing it wasn’t necessarily earth-shattering. But she could see a word this time—written in runes that she wouldn’t have expected she’d be able to read.

  The word triggered no memories in her mind, so the Black Swan must not be familiar with it.

  But the nameless rebels had a name.

  Neverseen.

  FORTY-ONE

  SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED AGAIN, DIDN’T it?” Vertina asked as Sophie squinted at her reflection, trying to make sure she didn’t miss any of the tiny silver hooks that fastened the bodice of her shimmering green gown.

  She still felt strange wearing something so bright and cheerful at a funeral. But the elves’ tradition was to wear green, to symbolize life.

  Not that it made the funerals any less depressing.

  Sophie sighed and pinned back part of her hair with an emerald comb. “Yes. One of the Councillors died.”

  Vertina closed her eyes, her tiny face looking pinched. “I’m sorry. Did you know him?”

  “Not as well as I would’ve liked,” Sophie admitted as she spread a little pink gloss over her lips. “Not as well as I should have.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vertina repeated. “What happened?”

  “He was killed in a fire, by a group called the Neverseen.”

  Sophie had told Grady and Edaline the name she’d discovered—and hailed Alden and done the same. None of them had heard any trace of it ever mentioned.

  So Sophie’s heart picked up speed when Vertina shook her tiny head and whispered, “Not them again.”

  “What do you mean? Do you know who they are?”

  Vertina’s eyes stretched as wide as they could go, and she squeaked something about saying too much and clicked away.

  “I’m going to have Dex reprogram you to tell me!” Sophie shouted, pounding on t
he glass.

  Vertina clicked back. “He’d never have the chance. I have an auto erase feature—I can wipe my memory clean and reset if I have to.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t want to. I want you to give me the password so I can trust you. Haven’t you found it yet?”

  No. All she’d found was a stupid human mirror. Unless . . .

  “Is it ‘follow the pretty bird across the sky’?”

  Vertina shook her head sadly. “No. But a bird is connected to it.”

  Sophie knew Vertina probably meant the clue to be helpful. But it wasn’t exactly a revelation. The Black Swan used birds for everything.

  “A bird is connected to what?” Grady asked from the doorway.

  “Oh, um, just a game Vertina and I are playing,” Sophie told him, throwing her green velvet cape over her shoulders and pinning it with her Ruewen crest.

  She could tell Grady was less than impressed with her lie. But all he said was, “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took another glance at her reflection, hating that she looked more like she was heading off to prom. But Grady was dressed just as formally: velvet pants, an intricately embroidered jerkin, and a gold-trimmed silk cape—though his clothes were a deep hunter green.

  The hint of dark matched the shadows under his eyes as he offered Sophie his hand and told her, “Today is probably going to be pretty miserable.”

  “I know. I keep wishing it could be like last time, when I still had a little hope to hold on to.”

  “There’s always hope, Sophie. Just because Kenric is gone doesn’t mean that his work, and the things he stood for, will vanish. It’s just going to take everyone a little time to heal.”

  Sophie cringed.

  “Sorry. Bad choice of word.” Grady sighed, mussing his hair. “You ready?”

  She wasn’t. But she took his hand and they made their way up the stairs, with Sandor close behind.

  Edaline was waiting for them in the fourth floor cupola, standing under the glittering crystals of the Leapmaster. Her wispy, silky dress floated around her like a summer breeze, and Sophie was relieved to see how calm Edaline looked. No tears. No shadows. Just a sad smile as she strangled Sophie with a hug.