Sophie was tempted to grab a handful of dirt and throw it in Alina’s face, but somehow she found the willpower to refrain.
“He should be fine once the drugs wear off,” Terik promised, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Well . . . as fine as he ever is.”
Granite held Prentice tighter, whispering, “It’s going to be okay.”
Sophie wanted to believe him, but she could see the clammy sheen on Prentice’s skin.
“Thus ends our truce,” Councillor Alina said, raising a hand to order the remaining goblins back into position.
“Your real enemy is tied to that cot,” Mr. Forkle warned the Councillors.
“Said the elf hiding behind a disguise,” Alina argued.
Sophie didn’t understand why the Council refused to see that the Black Swan wasn’t evil. But then she remembered the doubt she’d felt because of Gethen’s fingernails.
It was far too easy to misunderstand a single action.
Prentice was living proof of the pain such mistakes could cause. And now she had a chance to set things right.
They brought Prentice to a stone cottage, surrounded by crumbling paths and mossy walls. It sat nestled in a verdant valley, blanketed with grassy fields and rolling hills, under a gray sky swirling with mist.
“Are we in England?” Sophie asked, feeling like she’d fallen into a period movie. The only thing missing were horse-drawn carriages.
“It’s possible,” Mr. Forkle said, licking one of the stones to open the door to the house. “We rarely consider human land claims when we choose our hideouts.”
He led everyone inside, and the house’s interior reminded Sophie of the Healing Center at Foxfire. The floor was sleek silver, and along one wall was a neatly blanketed cot, as well as a table covered in bottles of Youth and vials of medicine. Two of the other walls were floor-to-ceiling apothecary shelves—hundreds of tiny square drawers Sophie was sure were filled with all manner of elixirs. The last wall had a window overlooking the lush valley, along with a counter, a sink, and a full set of alchemy equipment.
“How long have you had this place?” she asked.
“Since Prentice’s memory break,” Mr. Forkle said. “We knew we had years to wait for your abilities to develop—but we wanted to be ready just in case.”
“I’ll take the first shift,” Blur said, heading down a flight of stairs in the corner. Another flight went up to some sort of loft.
“Private quarters,” Mr. Forkle explained. “So that those staying here to care for Prentice have somewhere to rest.”
Granite set Prentice on the bed as Squall grabbed a crystal basin from the counter and filled it with water. They toweled off Prentice’s face and hands and tied back his dreadlocked hair. Blur returned with a clean robe, and Sophie turned away as they changed him. She helped Wraith and Mr. Forkle sort through the drawers, pulling out various ointments and unguents. By the time everyone was finished, Prentice’s skin looked clean and smooth—all cuts and scratches healed.
If he hadn’t been so unnaturally still, he might’ve looked normal.
“It’s strange for the sedatives to take such a strong effect, isn’t it?” Granite asked.
“Indeed it is,” Mr. Forkle said. “And to last this long.”
Sophie thought back to the dark days after Alden’s mind had broken, when Elwin was attempting to treat him. The sedatives had worn off so fast, Elwin couldn’t keep up with them.
“Do you think there’s something wrong?” she whispered.
“I don’t know what to think,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “Not until I have more information.”
She realized that everyone was looking at her. “You want me to heal him right now?”
“Not heal,” Granite said.
“Unless you feel like you’re capable,” Mr. Forkle jumped in. “But what we truly need is a better sense of his mental state. None of us can enter a broken mind except you.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry, but she took a deep breath and stepped closer, trying not to think about the last time she’d been in Prentice’s mind. She focused on Alden—and the joy she’d felt bringing him back—as she reached for Prentice’s temples and pushed her consciousness into his.
His mind was dark—but not like any darkness she’d experienced before. She was used to blackness that had a shape. A space. An end.
This was absolute nothingness.
No light. No sound.
Not a whisper. A breath. A flutter.
She tried to call Prentice’s name, but the transmissions vanished. It felt like trying to light a match in a room with no oxygen.
Heaviness settled over her, burying her in the emptiness, until all she had left was a single, solitary thought—a truth so inescapable, it turned solid in her mind, creating a lifeline to climb up and out of the black.
Sophie stumbled back from Prentice, the world crashing around her in a tornado of senses. But even the chaos of reality couldn’t change the heartbreaking truth she’d discovered.
She gave herself several long breaths before she turned to face the Collective.
Their hopeful expressions crumbled as she whispered, “Prentice is gone.”
THIRTY-FIVE