Lodestar Page 28

  The Lodestar Initiative.

  Wait. Whatever they’re planning to do to my family is part of the Lodestar Initiative? I thought the Neverseen only wanted to take them so they could control me.

  That’s probably part of it. But it’s starting to feel like they’re doing some sort of . . . gathering. It’s almost like Fintan has this list of people and information he needs, and he’s checking them off one by one.

  Sophie’s mind flashed to the cell Dex had been held in at the Paris hideout.

  Was this what the room had been meant for?

  You okay over there? Keefe asked. You’ve gone quiet on me.

  I’m just trying to think. Is Wylie’s kidnapping—and maybe his mom’s death—also part of the Lodestar Initiative?

  That’s what I’m assuming.

  He made it sound so obvious—and maybe it was. But Sophie hadn’t considered the connection. Her brain throbbed under the weight of a thousand new questions.

  How’s Wylie doing by the way? Keefe asked.

  About the same. Edaline saw him yesterday and said his wounds looked healed, but his thoughts were still so dark that they’re going to keep him sedated for at least another day.

  And they don’t want to erase his memories?

  Wylie told us not to. He wants to make sure we don’t get rid of anything that could help us find out what happened to his mom.

  That’s . . . very brave.

  Keefe’s mind flashed to his nine-year-old self, curled up in a ball under the covers as he waited for the Washer to come erase his memories.

  You can’t compare the two, Sophie told him.

  He didn’t agree. But Keefe stuffed the memory away, his mind practically forcing a smile as he told her, Fintan’s supposed to come to this hideout tonight for a strategy meeting, so it’s probably not a good idea to do another check-in until tomorrow morning. And be prepared for some breakfast whining. We harvested something called yolksnips today—and they smelled exactly like Iggy farts.

  Apparently they tasted like them too. But Keefe barely mentioned them when Sophie connected with his mind at daybreak. He was too excited to share his news.

  He still hadn’t learned anything about the test for the ogres, or Wylie, or the plan for Grady and Edaline, or Brant and Ruy’s punishment, or Fintan’s cache, or any of the things that had kept Sophie up most of the night.

  BUT, Keefe said, his mental voice so loud, it echoed around her head. I’ve finally been granted clearance to move into one of their other hideouts. You’re now talking to a fully initiated member of the Neverseen!

  FORTY-SEVEN

  DOES THAT MEAN Keefe swore an oath?” Fitz asked, careful to keep his voice low in the crowded Foxfire field. “Like we did when we were accepted into the Black Swan?”

  “I was afraid to ask,” Sophie admitted.

  She glanced around, relieved to find everyone too distracted by the proceedings to pay attention to her group of friends—and their bodyguards. Still, she huddled closer to Fitz, Dex, Biana, Tam, and Linh as she added, “He said he’ll be settled at the new hideout this afternoon.”

  The crowd surged forward as another batch of people moved to take their test, halting their conversation. It was the first day of their Exillium skill training, and while Sophie and her friends already knew their Hemispheres, everyone else was being sorted by a written exam before being given a black cape marked with a colored handprint on the back.

  Red for the Left Hemisphere, blue for the Right, and purple for the Ambis.

  The three Exillium tents bore the same colors. And after so many years of scorn and judgment, it seemed strangely reassuring to have the vibrant canopies stationed proudly around the glass pyramid.

  Still, Sophie found her eyes constantly drifting to the twisted gold and silver elite towers. The Black Swan had stuck to their plan and kept Wylie’s assault a secret, so no one around them had any idea about the added danger. Even with dozens of goblins stationed among the crowd—even with a fleet of dwarves secretly positioned under their feet—Lur and Mitya had yet to figure out how the Neverseen had gotten inside the tower. So the rebels still had a secret way to invade the campus.

  “Maybe the Neverseen use a vague oath,” Linh whispered when the crowd settled again. “Like the one the Black Swan had us say.”

  “Hopefully,” Biana said. “And wait—does that mean you guys swore fealty?”

  Both twins revealed the swan-shaped monocle pendants they’d tucked under their tunics.

  “I was sick of Linh nagging me,” Tam said, earning an eye roll from his sister, and a sudden splash of water to the face. “Oh, it is so on later.”

  “Ready any time you are,” Linh told him, tossing another sphere of water back and forth from palm to palm.

  “Wow,” Fitz whispered, as Dex leaned closer.

  “Are we sure this is a good thing?” he asked. “Not the part about you guys joining the Black Swan—that’s awesome. But the whole ‘Keefe going to one of their serious hideouts’ thing. Is he sure they won’t lock him away like they did to his mom?”

  “I asked him the same question,” Sophie said. “And he promised he’s keeping a close read on everyone’s emotions. He said he’ll bail if he senses anything suspicious.”

  “But how does he bail?” Biana asked. “They’re not going to let him walk away now.”

  Fitz shared a look with Sophie. “We may have to help him get out of there—but we can’t come up with a plan until we know more about where he is. So right now, we’re just hoping he’s being careful.”

  Tam snorted. “Zero chance of that.”

  “Probably,” Sophie whispered. “But he’s taking this crazy risk to help us. So we need to get the most out of it that we can.”

  “You told him to watch for shadows on the floor of the hideout, right?” Tam asked. “To see if they use an illuminated symbol like the one in Paris?”

  Sophie nodded. “Keefe has a photographic memory. So I told him to make sure he takes a good look at everything. Then he’ll share it with me and I’ll project it all on paper so you can check the shadows. But you’ll have to come to Havenfield to see it. I’m still grounded.”

  Biana grinned. “So is Fitz. My dad told him he’s not allowed to go anywhere until he finishes his matchmaking packet.”

  “Too bad for him, I finished it yesterday,” Fitz said smugly.

  “You did?” Sophie, Biana, Dex, and Linh asked at the same time.

  Fitz shrugged. “It’s not like it’s hard. I just had to answer some personal questions.”

  “A lot of them,” Biana said. “Aren’t you worried that if you rush through, you won’t give very good answers?”

  “Nah. I know what I like. Besides, the questions aren’t what you’d think they’d be. Sure, they ask what you find attractive, and what personality traits you like and stuff. But then it gets into all kinds of things about your genetics and abilities, and finishes with a ton of questions that are just . . . deep. It’s like they’re trying to get to know you on another level—which I guess makes sense, since we fill out the packets when we’re sixteen. Our likes and dislikes are probably going to change, so they’re trying to figure out the real us.”

  “You’re sixteen?” Linh asked.

  Dex mumbled something about Fitz being super old as Biana turned to Tam. “I don’t think you guys ever told us how old you are.”

  Both twins had to think for a second.

  “Pretty sure we’re fifteen,” Linh said. “It’s hard to remember, thanks to my father. He was always trying to convince us that we had our inception date wrong.”

  “Good old Dad,” Tam muttered, scanning the crowd, like he was checking to make sure his parents weren’t there. “Uh, do you guys know that girl off to the right? She’s staring at us pretty hard.”

  All of their goblins reached for their swords.

  “Relax—it’s just Marella,” Sophie told them, dropping her voice before she added, “She’s the one whose mom saw
Cyrah the day she faded.”

  “And she’s not staring at us,” Biana corrected. “She’s checking out Tam.”

  Tam’s eyebrows shot up, and he stole another glance. Marella tossed her long blond hair—which always had a few tiny braids woven in—and gave him her flirtiest smile.

  “Huh,” he said.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Biana pressed.

  “I don’t know.” Tam blushed brighter than Sophie would’ve thought possible, given his general surly demeanor. “What am I supposed to say?”

  “She’s not his type,” Linh jumped in. “He likes brunettes.”

  “Gross, why do you know that?” Tam asked.

  Linh smirked. “Because you’re not as sly as you think.”

  “Is anyone else wondering why Marella’s not hanging out with Stina anymore?” Sophie asked, rescuing Tam with a subject change.

  “Stina’s the tall girl over there,” Biana explained to the twins, tilting her head to where Stina’s unruly curls stuck out above the crowd. “Her dad works with the Black Swan, so you’d think she’d be nice. But she still thinks she’s better than everybody. And ugh, looks like she’s in the Left Hemisphere. Guess that means Fitz and I get to watch her try to show off all day.”

  “Who’s the other girl she’s with?” Linh asked. “She’s staring at Sophie too.”

  “Really?” Sophie asked, waiting before she turned to see who Linh meant. It took her a second to recognize the pretty black girl beside Stina—especially with the blue streak she’d added to her straightened hair. “That’s Maruca.”

  “There’s a Marella and a Maruca?” Tam asked. “Yeah . . . I’m never going to be able to keep that straight.”

  “You probably won’t have to,” Biana said. “Marella’s been avoiding us for a while. And Maruca and I haven’t talked in months—ever since I told her I couldn’t trust her. She blabbed a bunch of my secrets to get back at me for becoming friends with Sophie.”

  Tam whistled. “Girls and your drama.”

  “Right—because you and Keefe get along so well.” Linh flicked his bangs. “And maybe I’m just imagining this but . . . doesn’t Maruca look sad?”

  Sophie had to agree. Maruca’s turquoise eyes were glassy, and her full lips were pressed into a tight line.

  And she was still staring at them.

  “Think we should go over to her?” Sophie asked.

  Biana shook her head. “If she needs to talk to us, she can come over here.”

  Maruca didn’t.

  But she didn’t stop staring, either.

  The whole thing felt very unsettling, and Sophie was relieved when a deep voice boomed above the crowd, directing everyone’s attention to where Magnate Leto hovered above them. His levitation was wobblier than he probably wanted—and his feet nearly grazed the crowd’s heads—but he managed to hold himself steady despite the strong breeze that kept whipping his long black cape—marked with a purple handprint—around his legs.

  “Welcome to your first round of skill training!” he said. “A momentous step in our world’s history! I’ll be practicing along with you, so I’m turning this session over to your talented Coaches. Everyone, please show them how much we appreciate their efforts.”

  Scattered applause greeted three figures as they rose from the tents and floated to where Magnate Leto had just been hovering—one wearing a long red cape, another in a long blue cape, and the third in a long purple cape. The Coaches’ levitation was flawless—so smooth, they might as well have been standing on solid ground.

  “Those in the Left Hemisphere will be training with me,” the red Coach said, her voice even raspier than Sophie remembered it. Her auburn hair was cropped into a sleek, angled bob, and she had thick black eyeliner rimming her pale blue eyes, giving her words an air of drama as she told them, “All of you are welcome to call me Coach Wilda.”

  “I’m Coach Bora,” the blue Coach added, his high, nasal voice a strange contrast to his slicked blond hair, olive tone, and sharply angled features. “I’ll be working with the Right Hemispheres over there.” He pointed to the blue canopy.

  “Which of course means that all of you Ambis are with me,” the purple Coach said with a smile. Her long black hair was so shiny it seemed to glow against her cinnamon-toned skin. “I’m Coach Rohana. And yes, for those wondering, it is essential that you train with your designated Hemisphere, regardless of where your friends or family might have been sorted. All three groups will be practicing the same skills, but you’ve been separated by your learning style so that we’ll be able to tailor your lessons for maximum efficiency.”

  “It’s important that you not let yourselves get frustrated if you don’t immediately succeed at what we’re teaching,” Coach Wilda added. “The Council has asked us to focus on a particular skill—one that, for most of you, will be an entirely new way of using your mind.”

  “The lessons will be grueling,” Coach Rohana promised. “At times they may even be confounding. But this process is about stepping-stones and building blocks that piece together with time and patience to achieve a new kind of strength.”

  Each Coach removed a tennis-ball-size glass orb from their cloak pockets and held the clear spheres in front of them.

  When they narrowed their eyes, all three orbs exploded into a million glinting fragments.

  “What you’ve just witnessed is one manifestation of a skill we call outward channeling,” Coach Wilda shouted over the gasps. “It harnesses a power limited only by our concentration and commitment. For instance . . .”

  Coach Bora pulled a metal orb from his pocket and held it in front of him.

  The orb exploded, sending flakes of metal raining like confetti—or maybe “shrapnel” was a better description.

  “Nothing can be spared from the will of a skilled mind,” Coach Bora told them. “Not crystal. Not metal. Not stone. Not even flesh and bone.”

  “Did . . . they just admit they’re training us to kill?” Sophie whispered to her friends.

  “Sure sounded like it,” Fitz mumbled.

  “Indeed it did,” Sandor said, glancing at the other bodyguards.

  Their expressions were hard to read. Nervous? Angry?

  “We sense your unease,” Coach Rohana told the crowd. “And applaud you for it. Fear breeds restraint and responsibility. But it will not change the fact that this is a skill we each possess naturally. Saber-toothed tigers have claws and fangs. Peluda dragons have poison quills. Even the fragile flitterwings have venom in their tiny teeth. They do not fear these gifts. Yes, some creatures use such things to hunt and others to defend themselves. But either choice doesn’t change the fact that the power exists.”

  Sophie could see the logic behind her reasoning. But it still felt like giving everyone guns and hoping they didn’t shoot each other.

  And then she remembered Keefe telling her that his Neverseen training included hardcore skill lessons . . .

  Were they mastering outward channeling?

  “It’s also important to note that power is not a new feature of our world,” Coach Wilda reminded them. “Many of our special abilities could cause tremendous damage should we choose to use them for such. That doesn’t mean we shy away from ability training, does it?”

  “Our goals here are simple,” Coach Bora added. “We want you to understand your strength and to be able to call on it should you need it. And together, we want to show the world that—whether they like it or not—we are the strongest creatures. We do not need weapons or armor. Only the strength of our mind and the discipline and determination to master it.”

  Murmurs rose among the crowd—most sounding like agreement. But Sophie kept remembering Lady Cadence’s warnings to the Council.

  Maybe the elves would be proving their strength. Or maybe they were about to throw a match in a room full of kindling.

  “You look . . . concerned,” she whispered to Sandor as the Coaches instructed everyone to head to their assigned tents.

&nb
sp; “I am. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to protect you from an attack of this nature—especially one to flesh or bone. And if crystal and stone are also vulnerable, what’s to stop someone from exploding the ground we’re standing on, or shattering a building around us?”

  “Our own natural limitations,” Magnate Leto said, sneaking up beside them. “There’s a reason the Coaches chose small orbs for their demonstration. The larger the object, the more energy it takes to destroy it. And while our minds can hold an incredible amount of energy, we also drain most of it through normal daily activities. There are ways to build reserves, of course, but they take a tremendous amount of time and discipline. Very few have such skill or patience. So for most, this power will be saved for an especially desperate moment. Nothing more. And now, I must mingle among the other Ambis, lest someone suspect I have favorite prodigies.”

  He winked as he walked away, heading for the far side of the purple tent.

  Sophie followed Tam and Linh to the back, where they used to train when they all went to Exillium together.

  Halfway there, Tam and Lin froze, their widened eyes fixed on two figures.

  A couple with jet-black hair and silvery eyes.

  Tam and Linh’s parents.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  WELL,” TAM’S FATHER said, fidgeting with his cloak pin—two silver-and-black dire wolves craning their necks in a graceful howl. “This is unexpected.”

  “It is and it isn’t,” Tam said, his eyes scanning the crowd until he found Magnate Leto, who looked . . . slightly guilty. “But I’ll make it easy.”

  Tam took Linh’s hand and turned to walk away.

  Their mother grabbed his arm. “Please. Maybe we should—”

  Tam jerked free of her hold. “No. We shouldn’t.”

  She dropped her eyes to the ground—her slender fingers still lingering in the air as her husband reached for her. There was tenderness in the gesture. A soft gentleness in the way he cradled his wife’s shaky hand, tracing his thumb across her palm.

  The love between them was obvious. Even a little sweet.

  But it made the tight fist of his other hand so much more heartbreaking as he glared at his children.