Шеннон Мессенджер - Keeper of the Lost Cities

A second passed before Alden answered, and he looked like he was watching a memory. “It’s when you lose too much of yourself in a leap. Your body isn’t able to fully reform, and eventually the light pulls the rest of you away and you’re lost forever.”

Sophie felt goose bumps dimple her skin.

Alden cleared his throat. “It’s only happened a few times, and we’d prefer to keep it that way.” He shot a reproving look at Fitz.

Fitz shrugged. “Fine. The next time you send me on a secret mission to collect a long-lost elf, I’ll be sure to put the nexus on before I leap her here . ”

Alden’s lips looked like they wanted to smile as he motioned for Sophie and Fitz to follow him down the path. “We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”

Sophie wiped her palms on her jeans and took a deep breath before she followed him down the narrow path lined with trees blooming blue and red and pink and purple—every color of the rainbow. The air was so thick with the perfume of their flowers it was almost dizzying, a nice change from the smoky air back home. “How exactly does this test decide my future?”

“They’re testing you to see if you qualify for Foxfire.” Fitz paused, like that was supposed to mean something.

“Isn’t that glowing fungus?” she asked.

Alden cracked up.

Fitz looked a little insulted. “It’s our most prestigious academy.”

“You named your most prestigious academy after fungus?”

“It represents a bright glow in a darkened world.”

“But . . . the light comes from fungus.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Will you stop saying ‘fungus’? Only those with the strongest talent qualify for Foxfire, and if you don’t get in, you might as well kiss your future goodbye.”

Alden placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse my son. He’s very proud to attend Foxfire—and it’s definitely an accomplishment. But don’t let him worry you. The earliest levels are more of a testing ground, to see who develops abilities that qualify them to continue with their studies.”

The idea of going to an elvin academy made her head spin. Would she have to sneak away every day? She didn’t see how that could work, but she doubted her parents would knowingly let her light leap to a secret elvin school, either.

If they really were her parents . . .

Cold chills mixed with sudden nausea as last night’s troubling revelation rushed back, but she shoved the sickening thought to a dark corner of her mind.

One problem at a time.

“Is it going to be hard to get into Foxfire?” she asked.

“Councillor Bronte will be difficult to impress,” Alden admitted. “He feels your upbringing and lack of proper education should disqualify you. Plus, he doesn’t like surprises. The Council had no idea you existed until today, and he’s more than a little miffed about it. But you only need two out of three votes. Just do the best you can.”

The Council didn’t know about her? Then why did Fitz say they’d been looking for her for twelve years?

Before she could ask, they arrived at another clearing, and all coherent thoughts vanished.

Dozens of squat, brown-skinned creatures with huge gray eyes tended a garden that belonged in a fairy tale. Lush plants grew up and down and sideways and slantways. One of the creatures shuffled by, carrying a basket filled with twinkling purple fruit.

“What?” It was the only word Sophie could come up with.

“I’m guessing this isn’t quite how you pictured gnomes, is it?” Alden asked.

“Um, no.” These definitely weren’t little old men in pointy hats, like Mr. Forkle’s lawn statues. “So . . . you have gnomes for servants?”

Alden stopped to stare at her. “We would never have servants. The gnomes choose to live with us because it’s safer in our world. And they help in our gardens because they enjoy it. We’re privileged to have them. You’ll get your first taste of gnomish produce during lunch, and you’re in for quite a treat.”

She watched a gnome dig slimy yellow tubers that looked like giant slugs out of the ground. She hoped none of those was on the menu.

She peeled her eyes away from the strange scene as Alden led her out of the garden to a meadow with a house in the center, one so large, so elegant, she couldn’t believe anyone could call it “home.” Part castle, part manor, it was made almost entirely of intricately cut crystal, and among the numerous turrets and gables rose a tower that resembled a lighthouse.

They passed through two massive doors made of braided silver, and entered a round foyer, which sparkled like a prism in the sunlight.

“This way,” Alden said, taking her hand and bringing her down the widest hallway, lined with fountains that spouted streams of colored water over their heads. The hall dead-ended at a pair of doors encrusted with a jeweled mosaic—two diamond unicorns racing across a field of amethyst flowers. Sophie couldn’t help wondering just how rich Fitz’s family had to be to live in a place like this. Though everything she’d seen in the elvin world spoke of wealth. It felt very intimidating.

Alden squeezed her hand. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

She tried to make herself believe him as Fitz pulled the doors open and led them into a formal dining room. Sheer silk curtains covered the glass walls, drawing the eye up to an enormous chandelier—a waterfall of long, shimmering crystals—that hung over a round table set with domed platters and fancy goblets. Three figures in jewel-encrusted circlets rose from the plush, thronelike chairs surrounding the table.

A second too late Sophie realized she should have curtsied—not that she knew how.

She stared at the silver capes fastened at the base of their necks with clasps that looked like glowing, golden keys and felt horribly underdressed. Everyone wore jewels and lush fabrics except her and Fitz—and he was in “disguise.”

“Councillors, this is Sophie Foster,” Alden introduced with a quick bow. “Sophie, this is Kenric, Oralie, and Bronte.”

Kenric was built like a football player, with wild red hair and a big, toothy grin. Oralie looked like a fairy princess—rosy cheeks and long golden ringlets. And then there was Bronte.

As Sophie met his cold gaze, she could see what Alden meant about Bronte being hard to impress. He was the smallest of the three, with cropped brown hair and sharp features. He wasn’t bad looking, but there was something strange about his appearance she couldn’t put her finger on.

She gasped when she realized what it was.

“What?” Bronte demanded.

Five pairs of blue eyes focused on her and she stared at the floor as she mumbled, “Sorry. I was surprised by your ears.”

“My ears?” Bronte repeated, confused.

Fitz’s whole body shook with laughter. Sophie squirmed as one by one the others joined him. Bronte did not look at all pleased to be left out of the joke.

“I think she’s surprised that your ears are . . . pointy ,” Alden finally answered. “Our ears change shape as we age. Eventually it’ll happen to all of us.”

“I’m going to get pointy ears ?” Her hands darted to her head, like they might have already transformed.

“Not for a few thousand years,” Alden promised. “By then I doubt you’ll mind.”

Sophie sank into a chair, barely noticing that Fitz sat next to her. Her brain was on autorepeat: Thousand years, thousand years, thousand years . “How long do elves live?” she asked. Everyone looked young and vibrant—even Bronte.

“We don’t know,” Kenric said, scooting his chair a touch closer to Oralie’s than he really needed to. “No one’s died of old age yet.”