Sophie nodded, wishing her seven-foot-tall goblin bodyguard was healthy enough to join them. Sandor had been thrown off an icy cliff during the ambush on Mount Everest and broken pretty much every bone in his body. Elwin had assured her that he’d be okay, but Sandor had a long road to recovery before him.
Not as long as the road we’re about to travel, Sophie thought as she spotted Everglen’s enormous gates through the gloomy night. The glowing yellow bars absorbed all passing light, preventing anyone from leaping inside.
“Time to run,” Alden whispered.
Teleporting only worked when they were free-falling, and the bluffs they needed to jump off were beyond Everglen’s protection.
Fitz wiped his eyes. “Tell Mom we love her, okay?”
“We love you, too, Dad,” Biana added.
“And don’t let the Councillors anywhere near my family,” Dex begged.
“You have my word,” Alden promised. “And I won’t let them near Grady and Edaline, either.”
Sophie nodded, her mind racing with a million things she wanted to say. Only one really mattered. “Don’t let Grady go after Brant.”
Alden took her hands. “I won’t.”
Everyone looked at Keefe.
“Tell my dad . . . that I’ve been hiding his favorite cape in a closet on the twenty-ninth floor. But don’t tell him the door is rigged with gulon gas. Let him find that out on his own.”
“Is that really all you want to say, Keefe?” Alden asked.
Keefe shrugged. “What else is there?”
Alden wrapped Keefe in a hug and whispered something in Keefe’s ear. Whatever it was made Keefe’s eyes water.
Sophie’s eyes did the same as Alden opened the gates.
The five friends stared at the towering forest and locked hands.
Slowly, together, they took the first step into the darkness. They’d just crossed the threshold when a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows—not a black cloak like the Neverseen wore.
A diamond-encrusted silver cloak.
The style worn by the Councillors.
TWO
IT’S OKAY,” A fragile voice promised as the figure threw back her shimmering hood. Blond ringlets cascaded around the beautiful, familiar face of a weary-looking Councillor Oralie.
Her pink-jeweled circlet was noticeably absent as she told them, “I came here on my own.”
Alden lowered his hand, which was holding a melder—a small silver gadget that caused instant, painful paralysis. “How long before the others arrive?”
“Not long. Bronte and Terik are still arguing, but they will gain nothing. There is too much fear and fury clouding the others’ reason.” Oralie trailed her graceful fingers across her arms, shivering in the moonlight. She was an Empath, like Keefe and his father, and Sophie had never seen her look so pained.
“What will their punishments be?” Alden asked.
Oralie lowered her eyes. “Dex and Keefe will be suspended until midterm and placed under constant chaperone. Fitz and Biana will be suspended for a week and given a month of Sanctuary service—”
“Wait a minute,” Dex interrupted. “How come they get off easier?”
“Their family holds a tremendous legacy in our world,” Oralie reminded him.
The Vackers were practically elvin royalty. They had more relatives in the nobility than any other family. Meanwhile, Dex’s father had never manifested a special ability, and talent was all that mattered in the Lost Cities, not wealth or skin color or age. The elves considered it a fair way of separating people. But Sophie wasn’t sure there was any fair way to separate people. Those without abilities couldn’t join the nobility, and if they married anyone except another Talentless, it was ruled a “bad match.” Dex’s mother had married Dex’s father anyway, but the scorn had haunted Dex his whole life.
“So that’s how it is?” Keefe asked. “Now that we know the truth about my mom, my family’s garbage?”
“Not garbage,” Oralie corrected. “But your father has been removed as an Emissary. The Councillors do not trust that an Empath could be completely blind to his wife’s betrayal.”
Keefe blinked several times, then barked a loud, cold laugh. “Well, I guess I can’t say my mom never did anything for me. I almost wish I could be there when you break the news.”
Title and stature meant everything to Keefe’s father, often at the expense of kindness and love toward his son. So Sophie could understand Keefe’s rejoicing—but she was surprised to feel a sliver of sympathy for Lord Cassius. In one night he’d lost his wife and his beloved title. And in the morning he’d discover his only son had run away.
“What about me?” Sophie asked. “What did they decide for my punishment?”
“That is still the subject of much debate,” Oralie said quietly, “but most likely they will banish you to Exillium.”
Sophie couldn’t decide which part of that sentence was more terrifying. She knew nothing about the mysterious school called Exillium, but she’d been told many times that she did not want to go there. And to be banished?
Sure, she was running away—but banishment sounded so permanent.
“Exillium is relegated to the Neutral Territories,” Oralie whispered, “a part of our world far too dangerous for you to visit. Especially now.”