Keeper of the Lost Cities (9 page)

Sophie could feel the weight of everyone’s stares. She knew what Alden and Fitz wanted her to say. And it would be nice to control her ability. “I guess I can give it a try.”

“You guess,” Fitz snorted, so low he probably thought she couldn’t hear it.

Tiergan glared at him, and Fitz looked away, his cheeks flushing pink.

Alden cleared his throat. “Well, that settles that, then. I’ll notify Dame Alina that you’ll be returning to Foxfire. But the name of your prodigy will be kept classified. The Council doesn’t want anyone knowing Sophie’s a Telepath until she’s older.”

“Why do I have to hide it?” she asked. His words touched a bruise. She thought she was done hiding her abilities.

“You won’t have to hide it forever,” Alden said gently. “Just for a little while, to give everyone time to adjust to you. In the meantime, the session will be listed as remedial studies on your schedule.”

Adjust.
Like she was a problem they’d have to get used to. And why didn’t they call it
Elf Lessons for Dummies
, while they were at it?

“I know this is all very confusing, Sophie, but I will do my best to explain everything when we get inside, okay?” Alden asked.

She nodded. What choice did she have?

“Good.” He turned to Tiergan, who had backed a few feet away from everyone. “I’m assuming you don’t want to come in.”

“Finally, a correct assumption.” Tiergan’s voice was cold, but it warmed when he looked at Sophie. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” Then he raised a pathfinder to the light and vanished in a brilliant flash.

Alden laughed. “Well, that went better than expected.” He licked a panel on the enormous gates, taking Sophie’s hand as they swung inward. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s see if I can’t answer some of those questions I’m sure are floating around in your head.”

He led her through Everglen’s sprawling grounds, explaining how her new school schedule would have two sessions a day plus lunch and study hall. She’d be a “prodigy”—their word for student—and she would carry eight subjects, most of which were taught one-on-one by a Mentor, who were members of the nobility. Sophie’s nerves tingled at the idea of one-on-one sessions with royalty. Talk about pressure to succeed.

Not to mention how behind she would be. The school year was already in session, and she was starting as a Level Two, the proper grade level for her age. So she’d be starting over, relearning everything she’d ever been taught, and already behind. It was a long way to fall from being the top of her class her whole life.

Self-doubt weighed heavier on her shoulders with each step, but she fought against it. She belonged here. She needed to believe that. Her fragmented life was finally coming together.

Well . . . almost.

“What am I supposed to tell my family?” she asked Alden. “They’re not going to let me disappear every day with no explanation.”

Alden bit his lip as he opened the doors to Everglen and stepped aside to let her and Fitz pass. “About that, Sophie. You and I need to have a talk.”

The sorrow in his eyes made her feel like she’d swallowed something slimy. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“My office is this way,” Alden said, leading her through another shimmering hall. “We can talk there. There is much to dis—”

The sound of arguing cut him off, and when they entered a wide sitting room filled with overstuffed armchairs and elegant statues, they found a dark-haired girl about Sophie’s age, who appeared to be shouting at herself.

A woman wearing an elegant purple gown appeared out of thin air next to the girl and said, “You’re home.”

Sophie squealed. Fitz snickered. So much for keeping her cool.

“Sophie, this is my wife, Della.” Alden’s cheeks were pinched—like he was trying not to laugh. “And my daughter, Biana,” he added, gesturing to the girl. “My dear, I don’t believe our guest is used to being around Vanishers.”

“I’m so sorry,” Della said, smiling at Sophie. She had a musical voice with just a hint of Alden and Fitz’s accent. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Sophie mumbled, trying not to stare. Della’s beauty was like a force, pulling every eye to her as she tossed her long, chocolate brown hair and pursed her heart-shaped lips. And Biana had all of her parents’ best features, combined in the best possible way. It was hard not to feel like a gangly troll, especially when Biana frowned and asked, “Is that my dress?”

“Yes.” Alden interceded. “Sophie needed to borrow it to go on a few errands.”

“I can go change,” Sophie offered.

“No, that’s fine,” Biana said, looking away. “You can keep it. It’s kind of frumpy.”

“Oh . . . thanks.”

“Quinlin sent the files you requested,” Della told Alden. “I put them in your office.” Her smile faded. “And the Council denied our request. But they did approve Grady and Edaline.”

Alden ran a hand through his hair—the same way Fitz did when he was frustrated. “In that case, I’d better make a call.” He turned to Sophie. “Then we’ll have a long talk, okay?”

She nodded, a little torn when he set off down the hall. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to say—and she wasn’t ready to hear it. But she wasn’t sure what to say to Della or Biana. She could feel them staring at her.

“The Council sent these for you,” Della said with a radiant smile. She held out two small parcels wrapped in thick white paper as she walked toward Sophie, blinking in and out with every step, like a strobe light.

“She doesn’t realize she does it,” Fitz explained when Sophie’s eyes widened. “Vanishers let light pass through their bodies, so they can turn invisible, even when they move.”

Della unwrapped the packages. “Hold up that pretty blond hair, will you?”

Sophie did as she asked, and Della clasped a thick silver cord around her neck. It fit like a choker, with a single pendant—an etched silver loop with a small clear crystal set in the center. Her registry pendant, Della explained. Everyone had to wear one, so they could be easily found. It was kind of pretty. But mostly it was one more elf-y thing she’d have to explain to her family.

Della handed Sophie a tiny green cube. “Anytime you need to pay for anything, just give them that. Your birth fund’s been activated.”

It took a minute for the words “birth fund” to register. “I have money?”

Della nodded. “The standard five million.”

“Dollars?
”

“Lusters,” Fitz corrected, laughing. “One luster is probably worth a million dollars.”

“What’s a dollar?” Biana interrupted.

“Human money.”

She crinkled her perfect little nose. “Ew.”

Sophie ignored the insult. How could the elves afford to give away so much money?

“We do things differently around here,” Della explained. “Money is something we have, not something we need
.
No one ever has to go without.”

Sophie couldn’t believe it. “But . . . why does anyone work, then—if they already have money?”

“What else would we do with our time?”

“I don’t know. Something fun?”

“Work
is
fun,” Della corrected. “Remember—we’re not limited to seventy or eighty years. Once you get used to that idea, I think you’ll find our way makes much more sense.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, still trying to wrap her head around it.

“All set?” Alden asked, coming back into the room.

Della nodded. “Were you able to change their minds?”

Alden shook his head, and Della’s face fell. In fact, everyone looked . . . sad—except Biana, who looked relieved.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest.

Alden let out a long, slow sigh. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s go have that talk.”

O
NE WALL IN ALDEN’S OFFICE WAS
a large, curved window overlooking a silvery lake. A floor-to-ceiling aquarium wrapped the rest of the room. Sophie waited in an enormous wingback chair facing Alden, who sat behind a black desk piled with books and scrolls. Anxiety tightened her chest as the walls of water seemed to close in.

Sophie sucked in a breath to remind herself she wasn’t drowning, and pointed to the stacks of human newspapers piled next to her chair. Articles were circled in red and then crossed out. “Keeping up with the news?”

“Looking for you.” He removed another newspaper from a drawer and handed her the article with her picture circled.

“You don’t know who sent this to you?” she asked.

“I have a few theories. No reason to worry.”

“You keep saying that.” A hint of irritation crept into her tone.

“Because it’s true.”

She sighed. “Well, if you figure it out, maybe you can find out how the reporter knew about me. My parents were super upset about it.”

Her heart stuttered as Alden’s face fell.

“I think I know what you’re going to say,” she said as he opened his mouth to speak. She needed to say it first. That would be the only way to survive it. “You’re going to tell me I’m not related to my family.” She felt a pull in her chest as the words floated away, like they were taking part of her with them.

“Yes, I was planning to discuss that.” A shadow passed over his features. “But what we really need to talk about is why you can’t live with them anymore.”

The words swam inside her head, refusing to make sense.

Alden moved to her side, leaning against the chair as he took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. We’ve never faced anything like this, and there’s no perfect solution. You can’t hide your abilities forever—especially as they get stronger. Sooner or later someone will suspect that you’re something
other
, and we can’t allow that to happen, for your safety—and ours. Now that the Council knows you exist, they’ve ordered that you move here. Effective immediately.”

She felt the blood drain from her face as his words sank in. “Oh.”

The too-simple word couldn’t communicate what she felt, but she couldn’t come up with anything better. Part of her refused to believe him—refused to accept the impossible things he was saying. The same part wanted to kick and scream and cry until he took her home to her family.

But a tiny voice of reason wouldn’t let her.

Deep,
deep
down—beneath the fear and hurt and pain—she knew he was right.

She’d lived every day since she was five in constant fear of discovery. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up. The headaches from her telepathy were almost unbearable—and if they were going to get stronger . . .

Not to mention the loneliness. She’d never felt right with her family. She’d never had any friends. She didn’t belong in the human world, and she was tired of pretending she did.

But knowing he was right didn’t make it hurt any less. Didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“Will I get to visit my family?” she asked, grasping for something to calm the fear threatening to overwhelm her.

Alden didn’t look at her as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid that would be impossible. We call the areas where humans live the “Forbidden Cities” for a reason. Access is severely restricted. Plus they’re going to think you’re dead.”

She was on her feet without deciding to stand up. “You’re going to kill me off?”

“As far as your family and the rest of the humans are concerned . . . yes.”

For a moment she was too stunned to speak—her mind filled with creepy images of gravestones reading
HERE LIES SOPHIE FOSTER.
But one image was even worse.

She closed her eyes, desperate to block out the horrifying mental picture, but it only became more vivid: her parents, hovering over her grave with tearstained faces.

“You can’t do that to my parents,” she whispered, blinking back tears of her own.

“We have to. If you disappeared, they would never stop trying to find you. It would draw too much attention to everything.”

“But don’t you know what this will do to them?”

“I wish there were another way.”

She refused to accept that. Elves could travel on a beam of light and read emotions and probe minds. There had
to be a way her family wouldn’t suffer.

A sickening idea struck her. “Could you make them forget me? Make it like I never existed?”

Alden bit his lip. “It’s more complicated, but it can be done. But would that really be better? They’d be relocated. They’d lose their jobs, their house, all their friends—”

“That’s better than thinking their daughter is dead.”

Her words seemed to hit him, and he turned away, staring deep into the aquarium. “What about you?” he said after a stretch of silence. “These are people you love, Sophie. If we erase you, they won’t miss you, they won’t even know you exist. Wouldn’t that be too painful?”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Yes. But only for me. For them . . .” She squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “It’s the best thing for them.”

Seconds passed before Alden turned to her, obvious pain in his eyes. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do it that way.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, hardly believing what she was saying. It felt like her brain was shutting down, too overwhelmed to function.

Had she really agreed to have her whole life erased?

She sank back into the massive armchair. Tears streaked down her cheeks and she scrubbed them away. “Will I get to say goodbye?”

Alden shook his head. “The Council specifically forbade me to take you back.”

The room spun and a small sob slipped out. It never occurred to her when she left for school that it would be the last time she’d see her family—ever. It was too much. “Please. I need to say goodbye.”

Alden studied her face for a long minute before he nodded. “I can’t take you without risking a tribunal, but I can give you twenty minutes before I alert the Council to the change of plans and let Fitz take you. You’ll have
to change clothes before you go, and get out of there before anyone sees you or it would be very bad for him. Can you do that?”

She nodded, wiping away more tears. “Thank you.”

Alden rushed to the door and called Fitz. Sophie couldn’t focus as Alden explained what was happening. She was too busy trying to figure out what she would say to her parents.