Yeah . . . Sophie definitely wasn’t going to be a fan of Coiffe.
“My father is one of the most talented alchemist’s in our world,” Dex snapped.
“He is,” Coiffe agreed. “But even you must admit he gravitates toward the absurd.”
“That’s intentional,” Sophie told him.
Kesler kept Slurps and Burps strange to make the stuck-up nobility uncomfortable.
“So wait,” Keefe jumped in. “Are you naked right now? Because I think I speak for everyone when I say: Yuck.”
Sophie smiled, relieved to see Keefe acting more like his old self. Shadows still darkened his eyes, but his smirk had returned with full force.
“If you must know,” Coiffe snapped, “I’m wearing a bathing suit under all of this. You try wearing ten pounds of fur and see if you feel like putting a cloak on top of it—especially with the way it tugs. And shouldn’t there be one more of you? I was told there would be six.”
“There are.” Della appeared next to him.
He scrambled back, tripping over the black bags piled at his feet. “Ms. Vacker. How ironic to see you among our ranks, considering the task we are about to perform.”
“And what task would that be?” Della asked, not bothering to correct her name.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He tossed them each one of the black bundles. “Get dressed. It’s time to see if you’re talented enough to break into Exile.”
“This isn’t the desert,” Sophie said as they reappeared in a forest high in the mountains.
“How astute of you,” Coiffe told her, leading them up a narrow path. A thin layer of snow had turned the mountain gray and crunchy, and Sophie snuggled deeper into her dark cloak, glad the heavy fabric was extra warm.
“Question,” Keefe said after they’d climbed for several minutes. “Why do all the trees look like they want to eat us?”
He wasn’t wrong. The gnarled, bulbous trunks reached for them with clawed, branchy hands, and the knots in the wood looked like eyes.
Sophie checked each one, squinting as far into the distance as she could, wondering if she’d find any with a force field.
“You okay?” Dex asked as Sophie tripped over the edge of her heavy cloak.
“Yeah. I just wish this thing fit better.”
“Tell me about it.” His sleeves completely covered his hands.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” she asked Coiffe as the forest thinned around them. “Last time we entered Exile through a sand pit.”
“And last time you had permission to be there,” Coiffe reminded her. “Do you really think you can walk in the main entrance?”
“No. But it’s hard to know what’s going on when no one’s told us the plan,” she snapped.
“That was not my decision.”
They passed several more trees before Coiffe doubled back. “Finally,” he said, tracing his furry fingers down a sun-bleached trunk. “It takes a keen eye to find the trail.”
“Yeah, well, did those keen eyes of yours also see you just stepped in a big pile of sasquatch poop?” Keefe asked.
Coiffe muttered something about the Black Swan testing his patience as he attempted to scrape his furry foot clean. Then he led them west, counting eight trees before turning north and counting four more. They repeated the process through several more twists and turns, until they reached a tree on the edge of a slope.
It wasn’t the biggest tree they’d seen, but Sophie could tell it was ancient. Its curled branches stretched toward the clouds, daring a storm to take it down.
Coiffe knocked on the lumpy trunk, making five quick thumps, two soft pats, and seven slaps in a strange rhythm.
“And now,” he said, “I’m free of further responsibility.”
“You’re leaving?” Fitz asked as Coiffe pulled a crystal pendant from his tangled fur.
Coiffe laughed. “Surely the Champions of the Everest Ambush have no reason to fear an empty forest—though it doesn’t feel empty, does it? Better hope whatever’s nearby isn’t hungry.”
“He’s kidding, right?” Biana asked as Coiffe glittered away.
“I’m sure he is,” Della said. But she scanned the forest carefully.
“The Black Swan needs a better screening process for their helpers,” Dex decided.
Sophie tucked her hands into her cloak pockets to keep them warm, and her fingers grazed the edge of Kenric’s cache. She’d figured that breaking into the world’s most secure prison was the kind of place where it might be smart to have a powerful bargaining chip.
“Anyone have any theories on where we are?” Fitz asked. “I’m guessing somewhere human, since I don’t see any Pures.”
The Pures were palmlike trees with fan-shaped leaves that filtered any pollutants out of the air. Every elvin city and manor had at least one.