Keeper of the Lost Cities, Page 20

  THANKFULLY, KEEFE DIDN’T BRING IT up at dinner that night. He was more interested in teasing her about Valin, or teasing Fitz about all the girls who gave him crush cuffs—wristbands embroidered with their names, hoping he’d wear them and show the whole school he liked them. Sophie couldn’t decide which was more annoying.

  Halfway through the feast of epic proportions, a dark-haired guy rushed into the room and sank into an empty chair. He was a Vanisher, blinking in and out of sight with every step.

  “Sorry I’m late, Mom,” he said as Della brought him a platter of food. “I got held up at Customs.”

  Mom? Fitz and Biana had an older brother? How did she not know that?

  Same wavy hair, same square jaw—but he had Della’s pale eyes. He was also ridiculously good looking, but he clearly worked hard to look good. Every hair was gelled to perfection, he was built like he went to the gym twice a day, and his ornate cape was immaculate. Not as over the top as Lady Galvin’s, but headed that direction.

  “You must be the famous Sophie Foster,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m Alvar.”

  She ignored Keefe as he snickered at the word famous. “I didn’t realize there was another brother.”

  “I see my family talks about me a lot.”

  “No—I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s fine. That’s what I get for moving out. Out of sight, out of mind.” He winked at Della. “I guess I need to stop by for dinner more often.”

  “We know you’re busy,” Della told him, rumpling his hair as she brought him a glass of fizzleberry wine.

  “Yeah, busy juggling two girlfriends,” Keefe interrupted.

  Alvar grinned. “Three.”

  “Three?” Della’s voice was as horrified as her expression. “Alvar, that’s awful.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s awesome!” Keefe corrected. “You’re my hero.”

  Alvar beamed and Della glared at both of them.

  “How are things with the ogres?” Alden asked Alvar, changing the subject.

  “Drama. They’re not happy about the smoke—like it’s our fault the humans can’t put out their piddly little fires. I can’t believe they haven’t learned to make Quicksnuff yet.”

  “What fires?” Sophie asked, not missing the way Alden tensed at her question.

  “Just some wildfires,” Alden answered after a second.

  “Yes,” Alvar added, swallowing his wine in one gulp. “And they’re certainly not worth sending Emissaries to investigate.” He shot Alden a pointed look.

  Sophie’s breath caught. Alden had told her he was only sent to investigate suspicious things. “Are they burning white hot again?”

  “Yeah. How did you know?” Alvar asked, frowning.

  “Never mind,” Alden interrupted. “And why have you been keeping an eye on me?” he asked Alvar.

  “I tend to do that when I hear my father’s off chasing imaginary enemies. Please tell me you don’t buy the conspiracy theories.”

  “Certainly not without proof.” Alden’s voice was hard. “But you would be a fool to believe it’s not a possibility.”

  “You really believe the Black Swan exists?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen their handiwork myself.”

  Sophie watched them stare each other down, wishing she were allowed to read their minds. Something about the “Black Swan” felt familiar. . . .

  Alvar shook his head. “Well, I don’t buy it.”

  “That’s what that symbol was!” Sophie said as her memories pieced together.

  “Symbol?” Alden asked.

  Sophie flushed as she realized she had everyone’s undivided attention. “Just something I saw on some scrolls Grady had. There was a black, curved swan’s neck at the bottom.”

  Alvar snorted. “Ah, yes—the sign of the swan. What a bunch of nonsense.”

  Alden said something, but Sophie’s racing heart drowned out his words.

  The sign.

  The curve of the swan’s neck matched the pattern of the fires that wrapped around San Diego. Quinlin had even called it “the sign.”

  Which meant the fires had something to do with the Black Swan—whatever that was.

  “What’s Project Moonlark?” she asked quietly.

  Alden dropped his fork. “How do you know that term?”

  “It was on those scrolls. Grady was surprised I could read it. He said the words were written in cipher runes.”

  The silence felt so heavy it pressed on her shoulders, but she held Alden’s gaze, waiting for his answer.

  “That’s classified,” he finally replied.

  Sophie sighed. She was getting tired of important things being classified.

  “It’s also a hoax,” Alvar added. “But what’s this about a cipher? And why would Grady have scrolls about the Black Swan?”

  Sophie was wondering the same thing herself.

  “Grady used to look into certain things, back when he was active in the nobility,” Alden explained.

  “So why does he still have them?” Alvar pressed.

  And why was he reading them so recently? Sophie wondered.

  “Enough, Alvar. This conversation is over. And everything that’s just been said is classified—is that understood?” Alden waited for everyone at the table to nod. Then his eyes met Sophie’s. “I know you find this all very interesting, Sophie, but you need to understand—any unauthorized investigation into these subjects will land you in deep trouble with the Council. So no more questions, okay?”

  Sophie nodded, her head buzzing with fear and frustration. She couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this had something to do with her—maybe even with how her brain could do such weird things. But she had too much to lose, too many things the Council could take away if she upset them. So she took a deep breath and focused on her plate.

  Keefe nudged her. “Earth to Foster—Della asked you what you’re doing over the break.”

  “Sorry.” She shook her head, trying to snap back to the present. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I hope you’ll spend some time over here.” Alden glanced at Biana.

  Biana nodded. “Anytime she wants to come over.”

  “Then I’ll be here as much as I can,” Sophie said, glad for the excuse. She may not be allowed to look into whatever was going on. And she may not be allowed to read Alden’s mind. But maybe she could find something out, just by being around.

  It was the best plan she had.

  TWENTY-NINE

  DEX REFUSED TO HAVE ANYTHING to do with Fitz and Biana, so Sophie had to alternate spending time with him at Havenfield and hanging out at Everglen. Alden and Della were gone a lot, and they usually came home smelling of smoke. They never talked about it, and Sophie was too afraid to ask questions after Alden’s warning—but she wasn’t giving up.

  If she couldn’t get any new information, maybe she could make sense of the pieces she already had. She tried to fit the clues together.

  Project Moonlark had to have something to do with the Black Swan—whatever that was. And they had to be behind the fires. But . . . why set fires—especially arounds humans? What would that accomplish?

  The fires consumed her thoughts so much they crept into her dreams. Vivid nightmares of her human family, trapped in their old house, surrounded by fire. She knew it wasn’t real, but she still woke up shivering every night. It got so bad she slept with Iggy on her pillow so she wouldn’t be alone.

  Pretty soon she was counting down the days until school resumed. School was safe. She’d passed her exams. Once school started she would have nothing to worry about.

  “CONGRATULATIONS TO EVERYONE WHO PASSED their midterms,” Dame Alina said during their first orientation. “I hope you enjoyed your six-week vacation, because it’s time to get serious. Anyone who got lower than eighty-five percent on their midt
erms needs to step it up or you will not pass your finals.”

  Sophie sighed. Aside from the seventy-nine in alchemy, she’d received an eighty-one in elementalism, and an eighty-three in physical education.

  “Your Mentors also tell me there are one hundred nine Level Threes who haven’t manifested abilities, and more than double that of Level Twos—which is unacceptable. Be prepared to be pushed much harder in ability detecting from now on.”

  Groans chorused through the room.

  The next week everyone looked sweaty and wilted as they trudged into study hall after ability detecting. Even Marella’s poufy hair had thrown in the towel and drooped against her head.

  “What did they do to you guys?” Sophie asked.

  “Stuck us in an oven and roasted us for two hours trying to figure out if we were Frosters,” Dex grumbled.

  “Which none of us were, because frosting is a stupid talent almost no one has,” Marella added. She slumped into a chair. “What did you do in remedial studies?”

  “Same old boring stuff.”

  Actually, she’d had a blast. Tiergan had her test her transmitting distance, and it was off the charts. Fitz almost had a heart attack when she transmitted into his mind from all the way across the school. She couldn’t blame him for his surprise—even Tiergan didn’t know that was possible—but she’d never forget the way his mind actually jerked when she reached it. She hoped he hadn’t peed his pants.

  She fought off her smile, feeling guilty that everyone else suffered while she had fun. “What are Frosters?”

  Dex rested his cheek against the table. “Cryokinetics. They freeze things by manipulating the ice particles in the air. It’s totally useless. I don’t know why they even test us for it.”

  “They have to test us for everything,” Jensi reminded him.

  “That’s not true. They don’t test us for pyrokinesis,” Dex argued.

  “Yeah, because that’s a forbidden talent,” Marella said.

  “There are forbidden talents?” Sophie asked.

  “Only one,” Dex told her. “Mesmers and Inflictors are closely monitored, but Pyrokinetics are forbidden.”

  “Why?”

  “Too dangerous.”

  “How could it be more dangerous than someone who can inflict pain?”

  “Because fire’s too unpredictable. No one can truly control it.”

  “Plus, people died,” Marella added.

  “Who?” Dex asked.

  Marella shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard five people died, and that’s why it’s forbidden now.”

  “But how can they forbid something like that?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that kind of like forbidding someone to breathe?”

  “Nah. Some talents happen on their own as you get older, like telepathy and empathy. Others you would never know you have if something didn’t trigger them.”

  Sophie shook her head. “That still seems wrong. It’s like they’re not allowed to be who they are.”

  “Oh, relax. There’s only been like twelve—ever—so it’s not exactly a huge problem.”

  “I guess.” She wasn’t really listening anymore, because she’d remembered what Alvar had said about the fires.

  Conspiracy theory.

  Could a Pyrokinetic be part of that?

  It was an interesting idea—and left her head spinning for the rest of study hall—but she needed more information. She swung by the library to see if they had any books on the subject. Surely Alden wouldn’t mind her doing a little innocent research at school, right?

  The Level Two library didn’t have any books on Pyrokinetics. Neither did Level Three’s. The Level Six librarian finally told her most books on the subject were banned, but she took Sophie’s name and promised to check the archives and send anything she found to Sophie’s locker. In the meantime, Sophie wondered if Grady and Edaline had any books in the libraries at Havenfield.

  The main library downstairs was a bust, but Grady and Edaline had to have personal libraries in their offices on the second floor. Seemed like the perfect place to hide banned books. Only problem: Even after living there for a little more than five months, Sophie wasn’t sure she was allowed in that section of the house, and she didn’t know how they’d react if they caught her—especially after Alden’s warning.

  But she couldn’t let it go. So she waited until Grady and Edaline were busy outside with a pair of dire wolves and snuck upstairs for a quick peek, promising herself she’d be careful not to leave any trace she’d been there.

  The first door she tried was Grady’s office. Rolled scrolls were stuffed in bins, a mountain of paperwork littered the desk, and books were shoved haphazardly on the shelves. No pictures, no knickknacks—nothing personal to make the place feel warm. But there were empty spaces where they might have been.

  The bookshelves were filled with law and history books. They probably talked about Pyrokinetics in there somewhere, but Sophie didn’t have time to scan through them all. The scrolls tempted her, but they were rolled up too tight to read, and she was afraid he’d be able to tell if she unrolled them. She wasn’t brave enough to flip through the papers on his desk either, in case they were in a special order. She hoped Edaline’s office would be more helpful.

  She’d assumed the door across the hall was Edaline’s, so she almost gasped when she stepped into a dim bedroom. Lacy curtains blocked most of the sunlight, crystal chandeliers were dulled with dust, and there were scattered remnants left behind from childhood: stuffed unicorns, Prattles’ pins strung on lanyards, dolls, books. On the desk was a framed photo of a beautiful girl.

  Jolie.

  Her blond hair hung in soft curls to her waist, and she had Edaline’s turquoise eyes and Grady’s striking bone structure. She wore a white Level Six uniform in the photo, so she was probably sixteen when it was taken. Next to it was another picture: Grady, Edaline, and Jolie, when she was close to Sophie’s age, standing in a breathtaking garden. It was the old them—happy, wearing the capes of the nobility—before their lives were struck by tragedy. Sophie could have spent the whole day drinking in the glimpse of who they used to be, but she knew this was the worst place they could find her. She peeled her eyes away and left.

  The last room had obviously been Edaline’s office, but it had turned into the place where leftover junk went to die. Stacks of locked trunks littered the floor, covered with piles of folded linens, unopened presents, and random objects she couldn’t identify. A huge bin of unopened letters blocked most of the doorway, so Sophie couldn’t get inside—which was fine. The bookshelves were full of thick, dusty volumes, and anything she disturbed would be too obvious.

  She’d have to figure out another way to find books on Pyrokinetics. Maybe Biana would let her look through the library at Everglen—but she’d have to come up with a good excuse, in case Alden found them in there. She was on murky ground, but she was close to something—she could feel it. Her mind wouldn’t let her drop it until she figured out what it was.

  THIRTY

  SOPHIE GAGGED AS SHE LICKED OPEN HEr locker. “Elwin’s choice again?” she whined to Dex. In the three weeks since midterm they’d already suffered through burned hair and sweaty feet flavors. Elwin was on a roll.

  Dex plugged his nose as he licked his panel, but he still winced. “Ugh, that’s exactly how I imagine a fart would taste.”

  Sophie giggled and grabbed a small scroll waiting on her top shelf—a special assignment from the Universe Mentors. Each list had six stars that fit some sort of pattern, and each prodigy was supposed to bottle a sample of the starlight from each, figure out what the pattern was, and choose a seventh star that fit with the others. She and Dex had plans to work together that night.

  Dex took her to Moonglade: a wide, round meadow filled with thousands of fireflies flickering in the darkness.

  “Everyone else goes to Siren
Rock,” Dex explained as he set up the stellarscope, which looked like a bent, upside-down spyglass. “But it’s so crowded there it’s hard to find a space to work. Plus, the view’s better here.” He pointed to the sky, where billions of stars sparkled through the inky black, then handed her a thick wad of star maps. “Finding stars takes forever, so let’s tag team it. First star on my list is Amaranthis.”

  Sophie stared at the sky, following trails she’d already memorized. “It’s right there—fourth star to the left of Lambentine.”

  Dex’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

  “Photographic memory. Remember?”

  “I know. But . . . the stars?”

  She nodded smugly.

  “Wow—well, awesome.” He stuffed the maps into his bag, and attached a small glass bottle to a spout at the wider end of the stellarscope. “Want to go first?”

  She took the scope from him and held it up to her eyes. “How does this work?”

  “It’s easy. You find the star and use the knobs to isolate it.” He came up behind her and used one arm to level the scope. His other arm wrapped around her and his hand slid her fingers down to a cluster of dials. “Sorry, um, is this okay?” he asked as she stiffened.

  “Sure.”

  But it was strange having him so close. She could feel her cheeks warm and was glad it was too dark for him to see her blush.

  Dex cleared his throat. “Did you find Amaranthis?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Then turn the knobs until you see the star change color, and flip the lever by your thumb. The stellarscope will do the rest.”

  She did as he said, and a bright purple flash filled the bottle. The glass clinked as the scope sealed the light in.

  It only took them a few minutes to fill bottles with scarlet light from Rubini, yellow light from Orroro, pale blue light from Azulejo, deep orange light from Cobretola, and dark blue light from Indigeen.

  Dex stared at the six twinkling bottles, scratching his head. “I don’t see a pattern.”

  “It’s the colors of the spectrum.” She rearranged the bottles in the right order. “Red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo, and violet. What’s missing?”