Exile Read online

  Grady touched the slender trunk of her tree. “Probably because the Wanderlings are living things. Would it be right to kill them, simply because we planted them by mistake?”

  “I guess not,” she mumbled.

  It wasn’t the tree’s fault the kidnappers tossed her registry pendant into the ocean and tricked everyone into believing she’d drowned. But it still gave her the creeps knowing she had a grave. And not any grave—a tree mixed with her DNA, absorbing tiny parts of her as it grew and changed. Almost like a part of her had been stolen, somehow.

  Edaline held Sophie tighter as she shivered and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  They were the same words Sophie had said to them at Jolie’s grave. And they helped about as much. But if Grady and Edaline could be strong, so could she.

  Her hands curled into fists and something metal cut into her palm. “Oh, I found this.” She held out the charm bracelet. “Is it okay if I keep it?”

  Edaline covered her mouth and looked away.

  Grady cleared his throat. “Of course. We wanted you to have it. In fact, this is good. Just in time for when you start your first full year at Foxfire. We’ll have to get you a new charm.”

  Sophie examined the charms they’d picked, smiling at the tiny blue diamond elephant, which must’ve been inspired by Ella. The locket turned out to be a small compass rimmed with tiny diamonds. Loopy letters had been engraved on the inside.

  “ ‘Let the past be your guide,’ ” Sophie read aloud.

  “What’s that?” Edaline asked.

  “The inscription on the compass.”

  “Compass?” Edaline turned pale as Sophie held out the charm. “We didn’t add that charm.”

  Sophie felt her jaw drop as Grady snatched the bracelet and squinted at the inscription. “All I see is a jumble of old runes. You’re sure you see a message?”

  He handed the bracelet back, and Sophie had to remind herself to breathe as she checked the inscription, which still read the same way. When she closed the locket and looked closer at the etchings, she understood why. Mixed in with the intricate swirls was a black curl with a pointed end, like the curve of a bird’s neck, ending in a beak.

  The sign of the swan.

  NINE

  IT’S ABOUT TIME,” SOPHIE WHISPERED, even though her hands were shaking.

  She’d been waiting for the Black Swan to make contact ever since they’d revealed themselves with her rescue. Maybe they were finally going to explain why they’d made her and what they wanted her to do.

  It did feel strange knowing they were still watching her, though—still planting messages and clues in the shadows, waiting for her to find them.

  She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see a face peeking through the trees. But the woods were as silent and empty as ever.

  Sophie studied the inscription again, which must’ve been written in their special cipher runes—the only runes she could read, thanks to the way the Black Swan trained her brain.

  “I thought you knew the Black Swan’s code?” She’d seen Grady looking through scrolls with cipher runes tucked in the margins.

  “Only a few scattered phrases.” His voice had turned dark. Angry, almost. “What does it say again?”

  “Let the past be your guide.” She moved the compass in every direction and the arrow always pointed north, just like it was supposed to. So the clue had to be the message itself.

  Couldn’t they just say, Meet us here and we’ll explain everything? Was that really so much to ask?

  “Put the charm down, Sophie,” Grady ordered, so loud it made her jump.

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re not taking another thing from them. If they want your help, they need to turn themselves in to the Council, face up to their actions—”

  “What actions?” Grady had been strange about the Black Swan—always getting angry or changing the subject whenever she brought them up or asked about the Council’s search to find them. “You’re acting like they’re the bad guys.”

  “Grady,” Edaline said, stopping him before he could reply. “Today is not the day for this.”

  Grady sighed, and the pain in his eyes hurt Sophie’s heart.

  Edaline was right. They were there to mourn their daughter, not talk about the hunt for the Black Swan.

  But . . .

  “I’m keeping the charm,” she mumbled, not looking at Grady.

  “It’s not safe—”

  “It’s just a charm, Grady,” Edaline interrupted. “What are they going to do, track her with it? They already know where we live.”

  Sophie risked a glance at Grady, who looked like he wanted to argue. Instead he held out his hand. “Let me see it again.”

  Sophie hesitated, wondering if he would give it back. She couldn’t imagine Grady being unfair like that, though, so she handed it over and Grady held it to the light, squinting at the bracelet from every possible angle.

  “I suppose Edaline’s right,” he said through a sigh. “The charm’s not dangerous, but the message is. You can do what you want with the compass, but don’t you dare let them lead you around with the clue. You’re not their puppet.”

  “I know. But they also rescued me,” she reminded him for what felt like the hundredth time. “They’re trying to help. So whatever this message means, I think we should figure it out.”

  Grady pinched the bridge of his nose like the conversation was giving him a headache. Several seconds of silence passed before Edaline spoke for him.

  “I think we should show it to Alden. See what he thinks we should do.”

  “Works for me.” Sophie stood, dusting the grass off her wrinkled dress and pulling out her Imparter. “Should I hail him and let him know we’re coming to Everglen?”

  “We can’t go right now,” Edaline said quietly. “We still have to visit Brant. But maybe it’s better if you don’t—”

  “No, I’m coming with you.” All the information overload had made her forget there was another part to Grady and Edaline’s annual mourning tradition.

  Visiting Jolie’s fiancé.

  Grady and Edaline shared a look before Edaline reached for Sophie’s hand. “Are you sure? Seeing Brant is the most upsetting part of this whole process.”

  More upsetting than visiting their daughter’s grave?

  “Brant’s not himself anymore,” Grady said, like he knew what she was thinking. “It’s not easy to see him so . . . broken.”

  His face was as haunted as his tone, and Edaline looked just as pale.

  “I go where you go,” she told them, sounding like Sandor—minus the squeaky voice. She hadn’t been much help to them at Jolie’s grave, but she wasn’t letting them do this alone. Not anymore.

  Not ever again.

  “AN ELF LIVES HERE?” SOPHIE couldn’t help asking as the scenery came into focus.

  Everything she’d seen in the elvin world was enormous and made of jewels or crystal or glass, with elaborate architecture and gold or silver accents.

  The square, windowless stone structure in front of them looked more like it belonged to a human. A poor, reclusive human, with ugly taste in houses.

  Edaline fidgeted with the velvet satchel clutched in her white-knuckled hands. “We had to move Brant somewhere he felt safe.”

  The house didn’t look “safe.” It looked cold and bleak. Even the land around it was nothing but jagged rocks and dark, dusty soil.

  “Brant’s afraid of fire now, as I’m sure you can understand,” Grady said quietly. “He couldn’t sleep until we found him somewhere that wouldn’t burn. All his furnishings are fireproof—we even have his clothes specially made.”

  “What about his family? Don’t they help you guys take care of him?”

  Grady shifted uncomfortably, and Edaline’s eyes dropped to the ground.

  “It’s . . . dangerous for them—not that Brant’s dangerous. He barely moves. Just stares at the wall, mumbling to himself. But the guilt . . .” Edaline�
�s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before she whispered, “The guilt could break them apart.”

  Grady took Edaline’s hand. “There’s a reason violence and cruelty are unheard of in our world, Sophie. Our minds aren’t capable of processing the guilt that comes with such atrocities—or they aren’t supposed to be, at least. It’s why no one suspected kidnapping when you and Dex vanished. Why no one wanted to believe that the Everblaze was burning. Because if one of us were to do something like that, the guilt would splinter our minds and let the darkness seep through the cracks.”

  “But why would Brant’s parents feel guilty?” Alden had told her the fire was an accident.

  “They shouldn’t. But guilt is an insidious thing—especially mixed with severe grief. It slips inside, casting doubt, making you wonder if there was anything you could have done, anything that would have changed . . .” Grady stared into the distance, and Sophie wondered if Brant’s parents weren’t the only ones wrestling with guilt.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.

  “I know.” The anger in his tone was unmistakable, and he didn’t look at her as he walked away. But he’d only gone a few steps when he spun back to face her. “Before we go inside, you have to promise that you will not—under any circumstances—try to read Brant’s mind.”

  “I know the rules of telepathy.” Telepaths had their own code of ethics to follow, rule number one of which was Never read a mind without permission.

  “It’s more than that. Brant’s sanity cracked during the fire. Watching the house burn, knowing Jolie was inside, knowing he couldn’t save her—it was too much.” Grady’s voice vanished for a second and he had to swallow to bring it back. “The trauma and guilt broke part of him. He’s not completely catatonic, like someone whose sanity is shattered. But reading Brant’s mind is extremely dangerous. Promise me you will not open your mind to his thoughts.”

  “I promise.”

  He stared her down, like he was searching for the truth in her words. Then he nodded, turned back toward the gray stone house, and climbed the steps to the thick metal door. Icy wind stung Sophie’s cheeks as she and Edaline followed. When they’d joined his side, Grady pulled the chain that hung above them, and a low chime rumbled through the house. Followed by an endless silence.

  They stood there so long Sophie started to wonder if Brant was actually home.

  Then a deep voice called, “Come in.”

  TEN

  DON’T STARE AT HIS SCARS.

  Sophie repeated the command over and over, ordering herself to obey. She tried to focus on the gray walls with the glowing blue crystals set among the stones, or the four metal chairs—the only furniture in the room—that were bolted to the ground by large silver springs. But her eyes always returned to the warped, puckered dents on Brant’s chin, or the red splotches and thin white lines that twisted and tangled their way up half of his cheek.

  He hacked a wheezing cough, covering his ruined mouth with a hand that was red and raw. “You brought a new person,” he rasped when his throat had cleared.

  Grady wrapped an arm across her shoulders and Sophie was surprised to feel that he was trembling. “Yes, this is Sophie. She lives with us at Havenfield, now.”

  Brant smiled, making his lip fold into the mottled lumps of flesh around it. Sophie dropped her eyes to the yellow-orange shirt he wore, with long floppy sleeves and a tie around the middle. It looked a bit like a bathrobe.

  Brant coughed again. “How very . . . unexpected.” Before anyone could reply, he pointed to the satchel Edaline clutched against her stomach. “Is that for me?”

  Edaline crossed the room to where Brant sat and placed the satchel in his lap. “You know I never forget.”

  The fabric shredded as he tore into the sack the way a small child might rip open a present, revealing a round silver box. “Custard bursts!”

  Edaline smiled. “Chocolate, butterscotch, and lushberry. I made them this morning.”

  Brant pried open the lid, pulled out a square purple puff that looked a bit like a colored marshmallow and took a bite. Pink juice dribbled down the scar on his chin as he smacked his lips and stuffed the rest in his mouth. “Aren’t custard bursts the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” he asked Sophie, spitting bits of crumbs.

  Sophie had never heard of them, but she didn’t want to admit it so she just said, “Yeah.”

  His smile faded to a frown. “You’ve never tried one, have you?”

  “No—I—” Sophie started, but Edaline cut her off.

  “I only make them once a year.”

  Brant didn’t say anything—and he definitely didn’t offer her one—as he closed the tin and tucked it back in the shreds of the bag. Sophie stared at her feet, counting the blisters peeking around the edges of her shoes. Seven separate welts had already formed—and she was sure there were more to come. But they stung less than knowing Edaline had a special treat she’d never shared with her.

  Brant hacked another wheezing cough, shattering the silence.

  “Are you sick?” Edaline asked.

  “Don’t!” He shouted as she reached out like she wanted to check his forehead for fever. He curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, forming an impenetrable ball. “I’m fine.”

  His voice sounded hoarse, though.

  “Sit,” he ordered, motioning to the three empty chairs. “Tell me what’s happened over the last year. Clearly, there have been some changes.”

  Sophie sank into a springy chair, surprised to discover it was actually comfortable. The metal was soft somehow, molding to her body like a cushion would—but it was cold. Or maybe the chill had more to do with the way Brant’s pale eyes had focused on her again. They were more of a gray than a blue, and they were framed with thick lashes the same jet black as his hair. She realized then that Brant should have been good-looking. But the fire had ruined him.

  Don’t stare at his scars.

  “I’ve seen you before,” he murmured, still studying Sophie.

  “You have?”

  He nodded as his eyes traced every inch of her face, finally settling on her neck.

  His metal tin of custard bursts clanged against the ground as he lunged for her.

  Sophie shrieked and tried to block him, but he pinned her shoulders to her chair with one arm while his other hand tore at her cape.

  “That’s mine!” he shouted as Grady yanked him away and tossed him to the far side of the room.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Grady yelled as Brant cowered in the corner, murmuring, “Mine,” to his fist.

  Edaline rushed to Sophie, checking her for injuries. “Are you all right?”

  Sophie nodded, not quite able to speak yet. She kept one eye on Brant as she adjusted her clothes, frowning when she noticed something missing. “He stole my family crest.”

  Brant kissed his fisted palm, and Sophie noticed the tiniest speck of yellow sparkle peeking between his fingers. “Mine,” he said, laughing this time.

  “I . . . guess he recognized Jolie’s pin,” Edaline mumbled, her eyes turning watery.

  “Brant, give it back,” Grady ordered, stalking toward him.

  “It’s okay, he can keep it,” Sophie told Grady as he grabbed Brant’s hand and Brant screamed and tried to shove him away. She seemed to be making everything worse by being there—and she didn’t want that. Besides, Brant had known and loved Jolie in a way she never could. Jolie’s pin belonged to him much more than it ever would to her.

  “Mine!” Brant shouted, laughing and kissing the jeweled bird before he slipped it into the pocket of his long cloak. His whole body relaxed when his treasure was safely tucked away and his face twisted into an ugly smile.

  Edaline straightened up. “Maybe we should go—”

  “No!” Brant shouted, coughing and shaking his head. When he met Sophie’s eyes he seemed calm again. “Stay.”

  “Really, I’m fine,” Sophie promised, and after hesitating a sec
ond, Grady helped Brant settle back into his chair and handed him his tin of custard bursts.

  Edaline stayed next to Sophie, playing bodyguard.

  Brant coughed again, dry and hoarse.

  “Want me to conjure you some tea?” Edaline offered.

  “Nothing hot!” He dragged out the last word into a desperate wail. Then the wail turned into a crackling laugh and he rocked back and forth, rubbing his ruined chin.

  Grady launched into a long update on everything that had happened over the last year, but Sophie couldn’t tell if Brant was actually listening. Mostly he stared at her with his damaged face, which made her want to look anywhere but at him, and yet he held her gaze like a tractor beam.

  Edaline finally broke their awkward staring contest when she mentioned Silveny.

  Brant’s tin of custard bursts crashed to the ground again, and Sophie braced for another attack as Edaline jumped in front of her. But he simply stood, his eyes darting between the three of them. “You found another alicorn? A female?”

  Grady moved to Sophie’s side, taking her hand. “Sophie was the one who picked up Silveny’s thoughts in the forest and helped us bring her home. She’ll be the one rehabilitating her too.”

  Brant walked toward the wall, gazing at the smooth stones like someone might gaze out the window. “So the timeline will be reset.” He spun back toward them, his gray eyes sparkling as they met Sophie’s. “It’s a turning point. In our ever-changing world.”

  “Uh . . . sure.”

  The room fell into silence and Sophie started to squirm, wondering how much longer they’d have to sit there in the cold, unsettling room with the cold, unsettling elf.

  Fortunately, Brant made it easy on them.

  “I’m tired now,” he mumbled, dropping to the hard floor and curling up like a baby. “I need to rest.”

  Sophie expected Grady and Edaline to help him to his bed. Instead they got up and crouched beside him, squeezing his shoulder and telling him to sleep well.

  “See you next year,” Brant murmured through a yawn. He patted Jolie’s pin in his pocket, like he needed to make sure it was there before he closed his eyes.