Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3) (8 page)

The house was dark when Sophie and Sandor made it back to Havenfield, the only light a faint glow coming from the second floor. Sophie had a feeling she knew which room it was coming from, and as she made her way up the winding stairs, she braced for the worst.

Sixteen years ago, Grady and Edaline had lost their only daughter in a suspicious fire, and they’d left her room closed off ever since, only going in on their darkest, loneliest days. It felt like a shadow hung over that wing of the house, warning everyone to stay away.

But when Sophie entered the dusty bedroom, she found Edaline deep in discussion with two of the gnomes that lived in a grove of tree houses on the property. Edaline’s simple turquoise gown was the exact same shade as her eyes—which weren’t the least bit red or puffy—and her whole face lit up with a smile when she spotted Sophie.

“I was wondering when you’d be home,” Edaline said, her smile fading as she got a closer look at Sophie’s clothes. “Do I want to know why you’re wet?”

“Nothing dangerous,” Sophie promised, wishing her shoes didn’t squish quite so loudly as she crossed the room to examine a row of trunks on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, we were just trying to decide what to do with this room once it’s all cleaned out. I was thinking maybe a conservatory, since Jolie always loved gardens. But Gerda’s not sure if the lighting’s really right.”

A gnome in an earth-toned smock smiled at Sophie with bright green teeth. “It can be done if you truly desire it,” she told Edaline in a dry, scratchy voice, “but we’ll be limited in what we can grow.”

Gnomes were expert gardeners, probably because they were almost plantlike themselves. They drew all their nourishment from the sun and needed very little sleep, which was why they’d chosen to live with the elves. They exchanged their unneeded produce for protection, and filled their long, waking hours by helping with any other tasks the elves needed.

“You’re really getting rid of everything?” Sophie asked.

Edaline had mentioned this plan once before, but Sophie hadn’t expected her to actually go through with it. Jolie’s room had been a shrine, completely unchanged since her death, right down to the page markers in the dusty books and the pots of lip gloss on the dressing table.

“It’s time,” Edaline said quietly. She ran her hand over the lacy bedspread, then backed a few steps away.

“We should have it all packed up tonight,” the other gnome—wearing what looked like overalls woven out of grass—told her. “Where do you want us to put the trunks when we’re done?”

“In my office. If you can find room.”

Sophie doubted they would. She’d been in Edaline’s office once, and it was the Place Where Stuff Goes to Die. But she was glad Edaline wasn’t planning to actually get rid of Jolie’s things.

Still, as Sophie watched Gerda grab the first trunk and head to Jolie’s closet, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Wait—maybe I should do it!”

Prentice had shown Sophie a strange, almost visionlike memory when she’d tried to read his shattered mind, and ever since, she’d wondered if Jolie had somehow been connected to the Black Swan. She hadn’t mentioned it to Grady or Edaline, wanting to wait until she understood Jolie’s involvement. And her best chance of finding out the truth was to search Jolie’s things.

“Are you sure?” Edaline asked. “This is a huge project. The only reason the gnomes can take it out in a night is because they’ll have dozens of them.”

“I know. I just . . . thought it would give me a chance to get to know Jolie a little better.”

Edaline smiled, but sadness seemed to leak out of the corners. “You want to know Jolie?”

“Is that okay?” Sophie asked.

“Of course it’s okay. In fact”—she dabbed her eyes—“I think it’s wonderful. And I know Jolie would’ve wanted to know you, too. You remind me so much of her.”

Sophie never knew what to do with that compliment. She had no doubt that Grady and Edaline loved her. She just hoped they were really seeing her for who she was, not for who they wanted her to be.

“Okay,” Edaline said, clearing the thickness from her throat and turning to the gnomes. “I guess I won’t be needing your help tonight after all. Thank you so much for offering.”

They both nodded and shuffled away.

“And
you
should get out of those soggy clothes,” she told Sophie, nudging her toward the door. “I’ll send your dinner up when it’s ready.”

Sophie’s bedroom took up the entire third floor, and was bigger than every room in her old San Diego house—combined. Star-shaped crystals dangled from the ceiling, and they glowed to life when Sophie snapped her fingers, illuminating a crushed trail in the fragile flowers woven into her carpet.

“Someone was here,” Sophie whispered, freezing in the doorway.

But her worry quickly melted into a giggle when she spotted the neon orange poof in the cage on her desk. “Dex dyed Iggy again!”

Sandor nodded. “He asked if he could stop by your room before he went home. Said he’d made the poor creature suffer with pink ringlets long enough.”

Actually, Sophie’s pet imp had quite enjoyed chewing on the hot pink curls Dex had given him a few weeks before. But he seemed to be having just as much fun chomping on his bright orange dreads.

“I don’t think Dex is ever going to let you go back to your normal gray,” Sophie warned the tiny creature as she let him out of his cage.

Iggy flitted to her shoulder with his black batlike wings and squeaked, making her gag from the toxic Iggy breath.

“So,” Sandor said as a tray of food appeared out of nowhere on Sophie’s bed—courtesy of Edaline’s conjuring. “Ready to tell me where you really went today? And before you consider leaving out any details, need I remind you that your trackers will tell me the whole story when I check them.”

“Is that the only thing the trackers do?” she asked, still trying to figure out why the rebels would bother tracking Silveny. “You can’t use them to like . . . stun me or something, right?”

Sandor snorted—though it sounded more like a laugh. “Believe me, Miss Foster. If I were capable of incapacitating you, I would do it every time you and Keefe got one of your crazy schemes. Trackers simply gather information, and help me find you should I need to. Why do you ask?”

“And that’s for all trackers?” she pressed, avoiding his question. “The silver ones aren’t different?”

“What do you mean ‘silver ones’? Did you find a silver tracker?”

“Not on me. I found one on Silveny.”

Sandor reached for his sword as Sophie explained about Greyfell and the rebels and the unidentified footprints outside the Sanctuary. Each new detail made him grip the hilt tighter, until his skin was stretched so thin, she was sure it would tear.

“What?” she asked, taking a deep breath to brace for the bad news she could tell was coming. “Are the silver trackers more dangerous?”

“Trackers can’t be made from silver,” Sandor whispered, “because of the way the metal tarnishes. The tracker you found could only have been made from stalkenteene—a metal that isn’t sold and isn’t shared. The only creatures who use it are those who mine it, and it can only be mined in the deepest caves of an underground mountain in the heart of Ravagog, the ogres’ largest and most powerful city.”

TEN

B
UT ALDEN DIDN’T THINK THE
ogres were involved—and neither did Alvar or Lady Cadence,” Sophie argued, replaying her earlier conversation in her mind. “And why didn’t he say anything about stalkenteene when I showed him the tracker?”

Sandor started a second sweep of her room, checking every shadow, like he expected an ogre to jump out any second. “I doubt Alden would’ve known. The ogres work hard to keep their technology secret, especially from elves. It’s something my court has had
many
arguments with your Council about—though this tracker changes things. I need to ensure nothing prevents Alden from showing it to the Councillors.”

“What—you think he’s going to hide it?”

“No. I think the ogres might try to steal it. This tracker could finally prove they’ve been violating their treaty and carrying on a silent war.”

A silent war.

The words felt cold, making Sophie shiver as she dug out her Imparter—a silver square that worked like a videophone—to call Alden and warn him. But when she said his name, the screen declared him “out of range.” Same thing happened when she tried to reach Grady.

The only areas “out of range” were dark, dangerous places.

“I’m calling for reinforcements,” Sandor said, taking out a black triangular gadget he’d never used before. “They’ll make sure Alden is safe. Meanwhile,
you
are going to shower and go to bed.”

Sophie knew better than to argue, so she ran to her bathroom and rushed through her shower. She raced back with soggy, dripping hair, and found Edaline sitting on the edge of her giant canopy bed.

“Where’s Sandor?” Sophie asked, glancing around her room to make sure she wasn’t missing him—not that it was easy to miss a seven-foot-tall goblin.

“In the hall, talking to Alden.”

“Alden called? He’s safe?”

“Yes, perfectly safe. And Grady is as well. He’s off on a completely unrelated assignment.”

Edaline’s hands were twisting the fabric on her skirt back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Sandor told me about the tracker,” she said after a second, “and your surprise trip to your old home.”

“Oh.” Sophie tugged on her pajamas, which were sticking to her still-damp skin. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not
trouble
. But I wish—”

Sandor stalked back into the room, stomping so hard he sent petals from her carpet flying with every step.

“Everything okay?” Edaline asked.

“Everything’s fine, apparently. I have
no reason to worry
.” Sandor kicked the carpet, scattering more petals. “What’s it going to take for your Council to see what’s really going on? An army of ogres marching across your capital?”

Sophie shuddered, hoping she’d never see a mob of lumpy-faced ogres parading through the glittering streets of Eternalia.

“What exactly did Alden say?” Edaline asked quietly.

“That all we know for the moment is that whoever planted the tracker got their hands on ogre technology—not that ogres are involved. And that he’ll be conducting a full investigation into the matter.”

Clearly Sandor was not in the mood to wait for an investigation, and Sophie couldn’t blame him. She knew better than anyone how hard it was to be patient. But . . . Alden did have a point. The rebels could’ve stolen the tracker from the ogres without their knowledge.

Sandor sighed, rubbing the sides of his head like he had a migraine. “Forgive my outburst. I shall return to my post.”

“If you’d like to take the night off—” Edaline started to offer.

“Thank you, Ms. Ruewen. But I fear Sophie needs my protection now more than ever.”

He stalked out the door without another word.

Sophie leaned back on her bed, staring at the star-shaped crystals dangling above her.

“You okay?” Edaline asked, scooting closer.

“Yeah, just . . . worried about Silveny.”

“I know.” Edaline swept a soggy strand of hair off Sophie’s forehead. “But I’m sure the Council’s already adding extra security to keep her safe.”

And hopefully it would actually work this time—though Sophie doubted it.

The rebels always find a way.

“You look tired, Sophie. Have you slept at all since Silveny moved to the Sanctuary?”

“Not much,” Sophie admitted.

Silveny used to fill her mind at night with sweet, alicorn-ish dreams. It was the only thing that ever chased away her nightmares.

“Want to try slumberberry tea? Even a small cup—”

“No sedatives,” Sophie interrupted. She’d lost enough hours in a drugged daze during her kidnapping.

“Well, if you change your mind, just call for me.” Edaline kissed her goodnight and handed her Ella—the bright blue, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing stuffed elephant Sophie hadn’t been able to sleep without since she was a kid. But she hesitated before turning out the lights. “I . . . wish you would’ve come to me about all of this tracker business, Sophie. Please don’t feel like you have to wait for Alden or Grady.”

“I don’t feel like that,” Sophie told her.

Though she did. A little.

Edaline had always been
the fragile one
, barely holding herself together as she battled through her grief. Sophie never wanted to be the one to make her lose her grip.

“I’m stronger now,” Edaline whispered. “Next time, I hope you’ll trust me.”

Next time.

The words hung in the air as Edaline left her alone for the night.

As long as the rebels were free, there would always be a
next time
.

That night Sophie dreamed she was cornered by ogres. They licked their gray, pointy teeth, promising she would never be safe, as their clawed, nubby fingers reached for her throat. She woke up screaming and strangling Ella as Sandor burst into her room, sword at the ready.

“I’m fine,” she told him, flopping back in her bed. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before she threw back the covers and headed for the door.