Шеннон Мессенджер - Keeper of the Lost Cities

Sophie rubbed her forehead. It actually hurt her brain trying to understand this. “So, you’re saying elves are . . . immortal?”

“No.” A trace of sorrow hid in Alden’s voice. “We can die. But our bodies stop aging when we reach adulthood. We don’t get wrinkles or gray hair. Only our ears age.” He smiled at Bronte, who glowered back. “Bronte belongs to a group we call the Ancients, which is why his ears are so distinct. Please, help yourselves,” he added, pointing to the domed platters in front of each guest.

Sophie uncovered hers and fought to hide her grimace. Black strips and purple mushy glop didn’t exactly scream Eat me . She forced herself to take a bite, stunned when the purple goop tasted like the juiciest cheeseburger ever. “What is this stuff?”

“That’s mashed carnissa root. The black strips are umber leaves,” Alden explained.

Sophie took a bite of umber leaf. “Tastes like chicken.”

“You eat animals?” Fitz asked in a tone that would have made more sense if she’d said she ate toxic waste.

Sophie nodded, squirming when Fitz grimaced. “I take it elves are vegetarians.”

Everyone nodded.

She took another bite to hide her horror. It wasn’t that she liked eating animals, but she couldn’t imagine living off only vegetables. Of course, if the vegetables tasted like cheeseburgers, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, Sophie . ” Bronte sneered her name like it bothered him to say it. “Alden tells me you’re a Telepath.”

She swallowed her mouthful, and it sank into her stomach with a thud. It felt wrong discussing her secret so openly.

“Yes. She’s been reading minds since she was five. Isn’t that right, Sophie?” Alden asked when she didn’t respond.

She nodded.

Kenric’s and Oralie’s jaws dropped.

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Bronte argued.

“It’s unusual ,” Alden corrected.

Bronte rolled his eyes as he turned to Sophie. “Let’s see how good you are, then. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

Sophie’s mouth went dry as everyone fell silent. Waiting for her.

She glanced at Fitz, remembering his warnings about the rules of telepathy.

“He gave you permission,” Fitz told her.

She nodded, taking a deep breath to stay calm.

Apparently, the test had begun.

S OPHIE NEEDED TO PASS. SHE WANTED THEproper education Fitz had mentioned. She wanted to learn how the world really worked. So she closed her eyes, trying to relax enough to concentrate.

She reached out with her mind like she had the day before. Bronte’s mind felt different from Fitz’s—deeper somehow, like she was stretching her mental shadow much further. And when she finally felt his thoughts, they were more like an icy gust than a gentle breeze.

“You’re thinking that you’re the only one at this table with any common sense,” she announced. “And you’re tired of watching Kenric stare at Oralie.”

Bronte’s jaw fell open and Kenric’s face turned as red as his hair. Oralie looked down at her plate, her cheeks flushing pink.

“I take it that’s right?” Alden asked, hiding his smile behind his hand.

Bronte nodded, looking angry, chagrined, and incredulous all at the same time. “How can that be? An Ancient mind is almost impenetrable.”

“The key word in that sentence is ‘almost,’” Alden reminded him. “Don’t feel bad—she’s also breached Fitz’s blocking.”

Guilt tugged at Sophie’s conscience as she watched Fitz flush red. Especially when Bronte grinned and said, “Sounds like Alden’s golden boy isn’t as infallible as everyone thinks.”

“It’s more likely that Sophie is exceptionally special,” Alden corrected. “Fitz also saw her lift more than ten times her weight with telekinesis yesterday.”

“You’re kidding!” Kenric gasped, recovering from his embarrassment. “At her age? Now that I have to see.”

Sophie shrank in her chair. “But . . . I don’t know how I did it. It just sort of happened.”

“Just relax, Sophie. Why not try something small?” Alden pointed to the crystal goblet in front of her.

That didn’t sound too hard—and maybe it was like her telepathy. Another sense she had to learn how to use.

She replayed the accident, remembering the way she’d found the strength deep inside, and pushed it out through her fingers. Could she do that again?

She raised her arm and imagined lifting the goblet with an invisible hand. Nothing happened for a second, and her palms started to sweat. Then something pulled in her stomach, and the glass floated off the table.

Sophie stared at the goblet in wonder. “I did it.”

“That’s it ?” Bronte scoffed, unimpressed.

He needed more? Seriously?

“Give her a second. She’s still getting used to her ability.” Alden put his hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath—relax—then see what else you can do. And remember, your mind has no limitations—unlike your physical body.”

Alden’s calm confidence gave her the courage to try harder. She tried to think about the clue he was giving her. No limitations. What did that mean?

Maybe she could lift more than one thing at once. She blew out a breath, pretending she had five more imaginary hands to extend. The tug in her gut felt sharper, but it was worth it when the other five goblets rose like crystal flying saucers.

Kenric applauded. “Excellent control.”

Her cheeks grew warm with the praise. “Thanks.”

Bronte snorted. “It’s a couple of glasses. I thought she was supposed to be able to lift ten times her body weight.”

Sophie bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how much more she could handle, but she was determined to impress Bronte.

She must be stronger than she realized—how else could she have stopped the lantern? She took another deep breath and shoved every ounce of the force she could feel in her core toward the empty chair next to Bronte.

A collective gasp rang in the air as three chairs floated off the ground, including the one Bronte sat on.

“Incredible,” Alden breathed.

Sophie didn’t have time to celebrate. Her stomach cramped from the strain and her hold broke. She screamed as the goblets shattered against the table and the chairs crashed to the floor, knocking Bronte flat on his back with a thunderous collision.

For a second no one said anything; they just stared in open-mouthed shock. But when Bronte hollered for someone to help him up, everyone burst into a fit of laughter.

Except Sophie. She’d dropped one of the Councillors. She was pretty sure she’d sealed her future with that mistake.

Kenric clapped her on the back, pulling her out of her worries. “I’ve never seen such natural talent. You’re even a natural at our language. Your accent is perfect. Almost as perfect as these guys’.” He pointed to Alden and Fitz.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, assuming she’d heard him wrong.

Fitz laughed. “You’ve been speaking the Enlightened Language since we leaped here—just like you did yesterday.”

She was speaking a different language—with an accent?

“Our language is instinctive,” Alden explained. “We speak from birth—I’m sure people thought you were an interesting baby. Though to humans our language sounds like babbling.”

Her parents were always teasing her about what a noisy baby she was. She gripped the table. “Is there a word that sounds like ‘soybean’ in English?”

“Soybean?” Alden asked.

“I used to say it as a baby. My parents thought I was trying to say my name and mispronouncing it. They even turned it into a nickname—a really annoying one.” She blushed when Fitz chuckled beside her.