Шеннон Мессенджер - Keeper of the Lost Cities

Kenric shrugged. “I can’t think of what that would be.”

Fitz and Oralie nodded. But Alden looked pale.

“What is it?” Bronte asked him, still dusting off his cape from his fall.

Alden waved the words away. “Probably nothing.”

“I’ll decide if it’s nothing,” Bronte insisted.

Alden sighed. “It’s . . . possible she was saying suldreen —but it’s a stretch.”

Bronte’s mouth tightened into a hard line.

“What does suldreen mean?” Sophie asked.

Alden hesitated before he answered. “It’s the proper name for a moonlark, a rare species of bird.”

“And that’s bad because . . . ?” She hated the way everyone was looking at her—like she was a puzzle they couldn’t solve. Adults were always looking at her that way, but usually she could hear their thoughts and know why they were so bothered. She missed that now.

“It’s not bad. It’s just interesting,” Alden said quietly.

Bronte snorted. “Troubling is what it is.”

“Why would it be troubling?” Sophie asked.

“It would be an uncomfortable coincidence. But most likely you were trying to say your name. You were hearing it all the time so it’s natural that you would try to repeat it.” Alden said it like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“Well, I think I’ve heard quite enough to make my decision,” Bronte barked, shoving all thoughts of moonlarks out of her mind. “I vote against—and you will not convince me otherwise.”

Sophie wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t fight off her panic. Had she failed?

Kenric shook his head. “You’re being absurd, Bronte. I vote in favor—and you won’t convince me otherwise.”

She held her breath as all eyes turned to Oralie for the final vote. Oralie hadn’t said a word the entire time, so Sophie had no idea where she stood.

“Give me your hand, Sophie,” Oralie said in a voice as fragile and lovely as her face.

“Oralie’s an Empath,” Fitz explained. “She can feel your emotions.”

Sophie’s arm shook as she extended her hand. Oralie grasped it with a delicate touch.

“I feel a lot of fear and confusion,” Oralie whispered. “But I’ve never felt such sincerity. And there’s something else. . . . I’m not sure I can describe it.” She opened her huge, azure eyes and stared at Sophie. “You have my vote.”

Alden clapped his hands together with a huge grin. “That settles it then.”

“For now,” Bronte corrected. “This will be revisited. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alden’s smile faded. “When?”

“We should wait till the end of the year. Give Sophie some time to adjust,” Kenric announced.

“Excellent,” Alden agreed.

“Fools,” Bronte grumbled. “I invoke my right as Senior Councillor to demand a probe.”

Alden rose with a nod. “I’d planned as much. I’ve arranged to bring her to Quinlin as soon as we’re done here.”

Sophie knew she should probably celebrate, but she was too busy trying to decipher the word “probe.” That didn’t sound fun.

“What’s a probe?” she asked Fitz as Alden led everyone else out of the room.

Fitz leaned back in his chair. “Just a different way to read your mind. It’s no big deal. Happens all the time when you’re in telepathy training—which it looks like you’ll be. I can’t believe you passed. It looked iffy there for a minute.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Why did Bronte demand a probe?”

“Because he’s a pain. Well, that and I think he’s worried that my dad couldn’t read your mind.”

“Worried?”

“I guess maybe ‘bothered’ is a better word. My dad’s really good. And so am I.” He flashed a cocky smile. “So if we can’t read your mind, it’s kind of like, who can?”

“Okay,” she said, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “But why does he care if no one can read my mind?”

“Probably because of your upbringing.”

She took a deep breath, reluctant to say the next words. “You mean the fact that my family is human. And I’m not.”

A second passed before he nodded.

Emptiness exploded inside her. So it wasn’t a mistake. She really wasn’t related to her family—and Fitz knew. He wouldn’t look at her, and she could tell he was uncomfortable.

She choked down the pain, saving it for later, when she’d be able to deal with it in private. She cleared her throat, trying to sound normal. “Why would that concern him?”

“Because it’s never happened before.”

The warm, bright room felt suddenly colder. “Never?”

“No.”

It was a tiny word, but the implications it carried were huge.

Why was she living with humans?

Before she could ask, Alden swept back into the room. “Sophie, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll get you something else to wear. You’d better change too, Fitz.”

Sophie hesitated. She should probably make them take her home. Her parents had to know by now that she’d ditched school.

Then again, she was already in trouble—might as well stall the punishment as long as possible. Plus, she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She needed more answers.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she followed Alden out of the room.

Alden smiled. “How would you like to see Atlantis?”

T HIS IS ATLANTIS?” SOPHIE COULDN’Tquite hide her disappointment.

They were in the middle of nowhere, on a patch of dark rocks surrounded by white-capped waves. The only signs of life were a few seagulls, and all they did was screech and poop. It was hardly the lost continent she’d expected.

“This is how we get to Atlantis,” Alden corrected as he stepped across a tide pool toward a triangular rock. “Atlantis is underneath us, where light doesn’t reach. We can’t leap there.”

It was hard not to slip on the slick rocks as she followed Fitz, especially in the red shoes Alden insisted she wear to match the long gown. She’d begged to wear pants, but apparently it was a sign of status for a girl to wear a gown, especially in Atlantis, which Alden explained was a noble city , which meant members of the nobility had offices there. The empire waist and beaded neckline of her dress made her feel like she was wearing a costume.

It was even stranger seeing Fitz in elvin clothes: a long blue tunic with elaborate embroidery around the edges and slender pockets sewn into the sleeves—the exact same size as his pathfinder. Black pants with pockets at the ankles—so he didn’t have to sit on the stuff he carried, he’d explained—and black boots completed the look. No sign of tights or pointy shoes—thankfully—but he looked more like an elf now, which made everything more real.

A rock moved under her foot and she fell into Fitz’s arms. “Sorry,” she whispered, knowing her face was as red as her dress.

Fitz shrugged. “I’m used to it. My sister, Biana, is clumsy too.”

She wasn’t sure she liked that comparison. “So, Atlantis really sank?” she asked, changing the subject as she followed him to a ledge high above the water.

“The Ancients engineered the catastrophe,” Alden answered. He opened a secret compartment in the side of the strange rock, revealing hundreds of tiny glass bottles, grabbed one, and joined them on the ledge. “How else would humans think we disappeared?”

Sophie glanced at the label on the bottle. ONE WHIRLPOOL. OPEN WITH CARE.

“Step back.” Alden uncorked the top and flung the bottle into the ocean. A huge blast of wind whipped against their faces, and the roar of churning water filled the air.

“Ladies first,” Alden shouted, pointing to the edge.