Lodestar Page 33

  Gethen rubbed his temples. “This is what happens when you capture people. It lights a fire in their loved ones that burns wilder than Everblaze. Always a losing game.”

  “So take the win for yourself,” Oralie told him. “One piece of information in exchange for a much more comfortable life.”

  Gethen stood to pace. He’d made several circles around the room before his eyes locked with Mr. Forkle’s. “Very clever. You almost had me there—but I’m onto you now, so you can get out of my head.” He turned to Sophie. “And I’ll take my chances here, thank you very much. They’re better than you think.”

  Mr. Forkle’s fisted hands made it clear that Gethen wasn’t lying about blocking him. And they were out of games. Out of options. Out of time.

  Sophie couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or kick something.

  “You honestly thought you’d beat me, didn’t you?” Gethen asked as their group turned to leave. “Sorry, Miss Foster—I’ve been playing this game far too long. But you raised an interesting question. So I’m willing to make you an offer. Truth for truth. One from me. One from you.”

  “It’s a trick,” Oralie said.

  “I can assure you it’s not.”

  “How will I know you’re not lying?” Sophie asked.

  “You won’t. But I won’t know if you’re lying to me, either. That’s the game.”

  “Do I get to choose my own question?”

  “Yes—but I get to go first.”

  Sophie glanced at Mr. Forkle. “Deal.”

  “Good decision. And here’s my question. Has the Peace Summit already occurred?”

  Sophie considered lying—but he’d probably be able to tell. And that would guarantee he’d lie with his answer.

  “No,” she said. “It hasn’t happened.”

  “But it will soon?”

  “That’s a separate question. Now it’s my turn. What was Cyrah’s connection to the Neverseen?”

  Gethen’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you wanted to know where they’re keeping Wylie.”

  “I did,” Sophie said. “But now I want to know this more.”

  “Interesting.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It is, actually. Her connection was interesting. You never specified that I had to give details. Just like I didn’t specify a better idea on timing. We both chose our questions poorly.”

  Sophie sighed. “Fine. The Peace Summit will be happening soon. Now tell me what made Cyrah’s connection to the Neverseen so interesting.”

  He sat quiet long enough to convince her he wouldn’t answer. Then he told her, “Starstones.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  DO YOU THINK he was lying? Sophie transmitted to Mr. Forkle as their group of goblins led them—blindfolded again—back up the winding staircase. The journey felt twice as endless as it had the first time, and her muscles burned from the incline.

  It would be a strange lie to tell, Mr. Forkle said. Nowhere in the conversation did we mention Lady Gisela’s hairpin. Cyrah also worked with many different gems. She specialized in ribbons, but she did sell other hair accessories. And she was a Flasher, so it’s possible she did some sort of light treatment to make Lady Gisela’s stone flash blue.

  But why would she help the Neverseen? Sophie asked. She knew her husband sacrificed himself for the Black Swan.

  I honestly have no idea. It’s possible she was angry with us for not protecting Prentice. Or Lady Gisela could’ve ordered the pin without telling Cyrah its purpose. Or she could’ve been coerced. The Neverseen certainly aren’t above blackmail, and a single mother facing the scorn of our world would be especially vulnerable. I’ll have to see if Wylie knows anything that could help us narrow down the possibilities. And I’ll need to do more research on starstones.

  Unless this whole thing is a lie to waste our time, Sophie thought quietly.

  Also a possibility. But there’s too much potential to ignore it.

  What about all that stuff he said about getting into the Silver Tower? Sophie asked. Do you think the ability he hinted at was a Shade?

  That would be nice, since we’re already having Mr. Tam search the tower. But Wylie’s assaulters included a Shade, a Vanisher, a Guster, and a Psionipath—all abilities you do not possess. And Gethen did a brilliant job of blocking me from his memories. The energy in his mind felt different. So much stronger and purer. All this idleness must be building his reserves.

  “I’m assuming the anxiety I’m feeling from both of you is related to whatever secret conversation you’re having?” Oralie asked, reminding them they weren’t alone. “And I’m not foolish enough to expect you to tell me what you’re discussing. But I’m hoping you might be willing to answer a few simple yes-or-no questions.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Mr. Forkle promised.

  “Thank you. So first, I’m guessing you’ve uncovered some sort of clue with starstones, and that’s why the word triggered such a strong reaction?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Forkle said. “We recovered a memory.”

  “From whom?” Oralie asked.

  “That’s not a yes-or-no question,” Sophie pointed out.

  “I suppose it’s not. This is going to be harder than I thought,” Oralie admitted. “Okay. Do I know the person?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Forkle said. “But the rememberer is less important than the remembered. In the memory, Lady Gisela used a hairpin set with what she called ‘a rare starstone’ to light leap to a Neverseen hideout we’ve currently been unable to locate. And she implied that the stone would be able to guide any user to the same location. But as of this moment, the hairpin is missing.”

  “Thank you for not making me pry that out of you through yes-or-no questions,” Oralie told him. “Does this mean you might be open to answering a few others?”

  “I’ll answer anything you ask,” Mr. Forkle said. “But know that I’m speaking to you as my ally, not as a Councillor.”

  “I assume that means you don’t want me to share the information with the rest of the Council?”

  “My instinct is to say yes—but I might be willing to be persuaded if you gave me good reasons why they can be trusted. Our order is not secretive because we enjoy shadows and games. Merely because it was necessary to avoid certain hindrances.”

  “Fair enough,” Oralie said. “It’s definitely my hope for our groups to work freely together. But until we reach that point, I accept the need for discretion. And so you know, every guard here is well aware that anything they’ve seen and heard today can never be shared.”

  “We swore an oath,” Righty chimed in, and the other goblins murmured their agreement.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Forkle told them.

  “Back to questions, then,” Oralie said, letting several seconds slip away before she spoke. “Do you believe Lady Gisela killed Cyrah?”

  It was the question Sophie had been trying not to ask, and she stopped breathing as she waited for Mr. Forkle’s answer.

  “If Gethen wasn’t lying, it is a possibility,” Mr. Forkle said quietly. “But . . . if starstones are important to the Neverseen, it’s also logical that Lady Gisela wasn’t the only member who utilized them. And it’s important to note that Gethen said ‘starstones,’ plural, and the memory we recovered only displayed one. So for the moment, we have no proof of anything.”

  “And all those things that Sophie told Gethen during their conversation,” Oralie said, “about a symbol that’s also a map of the Neverseen’s hideouts, as well as some sort of secret code. I’m assuming that was true?”

  “Mostly,” Sophie mumbled. “I exaggerated how much we understand. Dex thinks he knows how the system works, but we won’t be able to tell for sure until we find one of the gadgets and test it out. Tam is looking to see if there’s one hidden in the Silver Tower—or at least proof that the Neverseen used one—so we’ll know how they got in.”

  “I’d like to see the symbol,” Oralie said. “And I’d like to show it to Councillor Vel
ia. She’s an expert on maps and may notice something important. She’s also not the type to ask questions, and will keep everything between us. Would you be okay with that?”

  “If you believe Velia would be useful in this regard, I’m willing to take you at your word,” Mr. Forkle told her. “I’ll send a record of the symbol as soon as I return to my office.”

  “And which office is that?” Oralie asked. “In one of your hideouts? Or maybe somewhere closer to home?”

  “Am I to infer that you have a theory as to my identity?” Mr. Forkle asked.

  “I’ve had many theories,” Oralie said as they reached the top of the stairs. “But this one feels right.”

  “This is a trap, isn’t it?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Pique my curiosity so that I’ll be tempted to slip into your head to check your theory, and if I do, my emotions would give you your answer.”

  “I suppose that would work out rather well,” Oralie told him. “But I’d prefer to wait until you’re ready to tell me. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how quiet you’re being, Sophie. I’m assuming that means you’re already in on the secret.”

  “Secrets,” Sophie corrected. “I know two of his identities. Still trying to figure out the others.”

  “And that is enough about me,” Mr. Forkle told them. “Did anyone else find Gethen’s interest in the Peace Summit to be concerning?”

  “Yes,” Oralie admitted. “Even without physical contact, I could feel how desperate he was for information.”

  “Any idea why?” Sophie asked.

  “From the glimmers I caught in his mind,” Mr. Forkle said, “I suspect the Neverseen once had a plan in the event of an ogre summit, and he believes it will allow him a chance to escape.”

  All of the goblins laughed.

  “Don’t underestimate the Neverseen,” Sophie warned them.

  “Don’t underestimate us,” Lefty told her. “We have security beyond anything anyone could prepare for.”

  “But perhaps it might be wise to add a few additional measures,” Oralie decided.

  “Are you allowed to tell us when the summit is?” Sophie asked.

  “No—but I suppose it would be wise for you to prepare. The summit is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. You’ll receive official notice a week prior.”

  The goblins spent the rest of their trek discussing ways to reorganize their patrols. And soon enough, they’d reached the main courtyard.

  “I expect a thorough update,” Sandor told Sophie after her blindfold had been removed, her belongings returned, and they’d regrouped outside the castle’s gates.

  “I will,” she promised. “But let’s wait until we’re back at Havenfield. That way I can explain it to everyone at the same time.”

  “I’ll update the Collective,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And perhaps we should regroup tomorrow to discuss the best course of action from here?”

  “Please keep me in the loop,” Oralie told them. “And I’ll be sure to do the same. This is a time when working together is in all of our best interests.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Forkle said, offering a quick bow before raising his pathfinder to the sunlight and leaping away.

  “Thank you again for arranging this meeting,” Sophie told Oralie.

  Oralie gave her a weak smile. “I only hope it was worth it.”

  Sophie made the same wish as she took Sandor’s hand and leaped them both back to Havenfield.

  “So should we—”

  “STOP!” Sandor snapped, pulling her behind him. He unsheathed his sword and spun around, sniffing the air. “Something’s wrong. Very wrong.”

  Sophie had no idea what could have him so freaked out.

  And then she saw it.

  Streaks of red in one of the pastures. Splashes of it in another.

  Fresh blood.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  SANDOR COVERED SOPHIE’S mouth and hefted her over his shoulder to prevent her from running away.

  But she had to find Grady and Edaline. What if they—

  “You must stop struggling and do exactly as I say,” Sandor ordered, charging toward the grove where the gnomes lived. “I need to get you somewhere safe so I can search the grounds for your family. And I need you to be quiet, because I can’t tell what we’re dealing with.”

  He kept his sword raised, moving so fast the scenery blurred. Sophie tried to keep calm, telling herself the blood belonged to one of the animals—until Sandor slowed and uttered a string of goblin curse words.

  She strained to follow his gaze and found a bloody ogre sprawled across the grass.

  Dead.

  She screamed and twisted in Sandor’s arms.

  He was no match for her adrenaline-fueled panic, and she took off into the pastures shouting her parents’ names as red rimmed her vision while she ran. Her thudding heart pounded almost as hard as the rage pulsing inside her, straining against the tangled threads she’d knotted around it. She pressed her hands against her ribs, willing the emotions to hold steady. She needed to save them for whatever was coming.

  She passed another dead ogre in the next clearing. Then two more.

  The next body she found was a goblin with long curly hair.

  Grady’s bodyguard.

  Sophie’s voice turned into a ragged wail as she collapsed to her knees, unable to get back up—until someone grabbed her shoulder and instincts took over.

  Her knotted emotions ripped free, and she shoved the darkness out of her in sickening waves, pummeling her attacker over and over. She could’ve raged forever, but strained, squeaky words brought her out of the frenzy.

  When her vision cleared, she found Sandor collapsed on his side, teeth gritted, his body shaking from her inflicting.

  “It’s okay,” a soft voice said behind her. “The ogres are gone.”

  Sophie spun around and found Flori standing with a sack of Panakes blossoms.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “They told me to wait for you to make sure you didn’t panic. But I thought I’d have time to gather more medicine.”

  Sophie couldn’t get her brain to form words as Flori moved to Sandor’s side, placing a blossom on his chest and humming a soothing melody while she mopped the sweat off his brow with the edges of her long hair.

  Sandor’s features relaxed as Flori worked, the pain fading from his eyes.

  “Where are they?” Sophie managed to whisper.

  Flori knew who she meant. “They’re safe. I’ll bring you to see them as soon as Sandor’s ready.”

  She said other things, but Sophie’s brain was on never-ending repeat.

  Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

  Seconds crawled by—or maybe it was minutes. Eventually Sandor raised his shaky head.

  “At least I know you can protect yourself,” he told Sophie, offering a weak smile.

  Sophie struggled to apologize, but Sandor waved the words away. “My only concern is your safety,” he promised, his watery eyes focused on something in the distance.

  Sophie didn’t have to turn to know he was looking at Brielle’s broken body.

  “Come on,” Flori said, taking Sophie’s hand. “I’ll bring you to the others.”

  She sang an entrance into the ground, and Sandor and Sophie followed her into the earth. The tunnel was damp and dark and pleasantly warm as Flori tangled their feet in the roots.

  “Brace yourselves,” she warned, shifting the cadence of her melody.

  The roots obeyed her command, carrying them faster, faster, faster—far away. Into the darkness. Flori filled their journey with soothing songs, trying to keep Sophie calm and steady. But the icy terror didn’t thaw until they emerged in a small hollow surrounded by towering red-barked trees.

  Grady and Edaline were there—dirty and bloody, but strong enough to throw their arms around Sophie as she crashed into them, holding on with all the strength she had left.

  The sobs hit then, wringing out the rest of the fear clouding her mind and unleashing a tidal wave of
questions: “What happened? Are you hurt? Has someone called Elwin? Where are we? How did you get away? What’s going on? WHY WERE THERE OGRES?”

  “We’re going to be fine,” Grady promised as she reached up to wipe a scratch on his cheek. “Edaline and I were very lucky.”

  He glanced at something behind her, and Sophie whipped around to find a dozen gnomes crouched around two more bodies. Flori was busy working with them, smearing their wounds with crushed Panakes petals.

  “They’re going to be okay,” Edaline whispered, holding Sophie tighter as they studied the unconscious, blood-streaked faces of Cadoc and Lady Cadence. “Lur and Mitya went to get Elwin. They should be back any minute.”

  “Did you sedate them?” Sandor asked, crouching next to Cadoc and checking the pulse point at the goblin’s bruised throat.

  “No, that’s from the shock and the blood loss,” Edaline told him. “But their breathing is strong. And their hearts are holding steady. They just need medicine. And lots of rest.”

  Sophie nodded blankly, trying not to look at all the red. “I saw Brielle.”

  Grady turned away to wipe his eyes. “She saved me. Took on four ogres at once so I could get to Edaline. Three of them fell by her sword, but the fourth was faster.”

  Something cracked behind them.

  Sophie turned and found Sandor clutching his bleeding fist, and a giant dent punched into one of the trees.

  “Keefe was right about his warnings,” Edaline mumbled. “The Neverseen finally came after us.”

  “You saw them?” Sophie asked.

  She’d never forgive Keefe if he’d been there. Ever. Not even if he’d stood on the sidelines.

  “No,” Grady said. “But one of the ogres shouted, ‘The Pyrokinetic is waiting.’ I don’t know if they meant Brant or Fintan, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is, their plan failed.”

  Sophie repeated his last words, trying to find comfort in them.

  But all she could think was, This isn’t over.