Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (37 page)

Why is a Councillor here?

Is there something they haven’t told us?

Is it safe?

Councillor Terik frowned as the majority of the crowd ducked out of their way and rushed inside. Only a few stragglers remained, watching them with wary eyes.

“I hadn’t realized the fear had spread this far,” he mumbled. “I rarely walk among the masses like Bronte and Kenric do. This must be why they’re pushing so hard for the alicorn’s relocation.”

Sophie watched a mother drag her two children into the nearest building. “Do you really think a sparkly flying horse is going to help?”

“You’d be surprised at how powerful
hope
can be, Sophie.”

Actually, she knew that firsthand.

“Please let it be there,” she whispered as they turned down a narrow alley and stopped at a building no different from any of the others, with a rune on the plain gray door that Sophie couldn’t read.

Councillor Terik placed his palm against a small black panel next to the rune and the door clicked open. “I haven’t
inspected any of this myself. But I’ve been assured that everything brought out of the Forbidden Cities was moved here.”

Sophie nodded, her mouth suddenly dry as she stepped into the dimly lit room.

It felt like stepping backward in time.

She walked a few steps forward, past her old couch and coffee table, and the old TV that didn’t get very many channels but that her dad refused to get rid of as long as it was working. Ahead was the hallway that led to the kitchen and to the right were the stairs that led to the bedrooms. It was like the elves had carved out the inside to her old house and moved it there, right down to the carpet and paint. But they couldn’t do that—could they?

“I didn’t realize they took
everything
,” she whispered.

“Of course they did. We had no way of knowing if anything was important. Though, as far as we could tell, there’s nothing significant in here.”

Sophie hoped that wasn’t the case as she climbed the stairs and made her way down the hall to her old bedroom. She half expected to see Marty—her parents’ fluffy gray cat—curled up outside her door. But the place was empty and dusty, and had clearly not been visited in a very long time—which made her sadder than she wanted to admit.

She reached for the handle of her door, hesitating before turning the knob.

“Everything okay?” Councillor Terik asked.

“Yeah . . . it’s just . . . Can I have a few minutes alone?”

As the words left her mouth, she realized she’d basically just asked a member of the Council to go away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Councillor Terik told her with a smile. “Take all the time you need.”

Sandor looked like he wanted to stay, but Councillor Terik placed a hand on his shoulder and Sandor sighed, saying, “I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Thanks,” she whispered as they walked away.

Their heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet space, and Sophie couldn’t help smiling when she heard the couch springs creak, trying to imagine a goblin and elvin royalty lounging in her old living room. Then she squared her shoulders, turned the doorknob, and stumbled inside, not daring to look until the door was safely closed behind her.

Her jaw dropped slightly.

Every tiny detail of her room had been precisely recreated, right down to the way she used to arrange her stuffed animals by height—though there was a gap where Ella should’ve been. She sank onto the bed, running her hands over the tattered blue-and-yellow quilt her mom had made for her. The fabric felt coarser than the elvin fabrics she was used to now, and she could see the stain from the time she’d spilled orange juice as a kid, but she still wanted to curl up in a ball and bury her face in it.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d left behind.

Textbooks and notebooks and trophies and ribbons from her
days in human schools. Tacky knickknacks and figurines her parents had given her over the years. Silly crafts she’d made with her mom and sister. Books she’d read so many times the bindings were creased and frayed—though they looked a bit ridiculous now with their wizards and dragons and demigods on the covers.

In fact,
everything
looked ridiculous. Dull and dusty and completely useless—at least in her new world of power and light.

It was hard not to feel just as useless.

She clutched her registry pendant—proof that despite her differences, this world was where she belonged. Then she stood, smoothing the wrinkles she’d left on the bed and focusing on the reason she was there.

She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, coughing as bits of dust and cat hair erupted in a plume. It was stuffed with notebooks and old school projects and cell phone chargers, and she was starting to worry it wasn’t there when her fingers brushed against the scratchy edge of something covered in glitter.

She couldn’t help smiling when she saw the hot pink cover with sparkly unicorns staring at her. Their purple eyes and rainbow manes and tails were almost as absurd as the rainbow walkways they were posed on or the floating hearts in the sky. She wanted to pore over it page by page, but she wasn’t sure how long she could keep Councillor Terik waiting.

As she turned to leave, a small part of her wanted to take more, keep a few more memories and things that were
her.

But was this
her
?

Or was this just her past?

She glanced around again. Then left everything behind.

“Is that what you were looking for?” Councillor Terik asked as she came down the stairs. He pointed to the journal she’d been hugging to her chest, and she nodded.

“Can I see it?”

Sophie froze.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I just want to satisfy my own curiosity, nothing more. In fact”—he reached up and removed his circlet, and held it out to her—“let’s trade. For the next few minutes, consider me a citizen.”

Her grip tightened on the journal and her head screamed for her to keep it secret. But he’d trusted her enough to bring her there without question. Couldn’t she do the same? Besides, any runes she’d written would be the Black Swan’s cipher. She doubted he’d be able to translate.

Still, her hands shook as she took his circlet and gave him the journal. She stared at her warped reflection in the enormous emeralds as he flipped through the pages.

And then flipped through them again.

And again.

He finally laughed. “Well, as far as I can tell, other than being a rather humorous glimpse of how much your younger sister
drove you crazy, there’s nothing significant in here. Though there are a few pages missing toward the end.”

He held out the journal, pointing to scraps of torn paper running along the inner spine. She had no memory of tearing those out.

Tears burned her eyes—but not sad tears.

Angry
tears.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to tell me what you were hoping to find,” Councillor Terik asked quietly. “Remember—the crown’s still off.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not there.”

She tried not to imagine Mr. Forkle’s chubby, wrinkled body skulking around her house when she wasn’t home, tearing out the pages.

Or maybe she had been home.

An image of him looming over her while she slept filled her mind. When else would he erase her memories?

“Are you okay, Miss Foster?” Sandor asked as she started to sway.

Mr. Forkle may have cared that day in Paris, but he’d also messed with her life in so many creepy, unimaginable ways.

She had to get out of there.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said as she handed Councillor Terik his circlet and fumbled for her home crystal.

“Anytime, Sophie. And don’t forget this.” He held out her old journal.

Sophie couldn’t make herself take it.

Sandor grabbed it for her, and Sophie tried to act normal as she held her crystal to the light. But inside she was panicking.

The Black Swan had stolen more than her memories when they tore out those pages.

They’d stolen her only lead to save Alden.

T
HERE
YOU ARE!” KEEFE CALLED
from outside the pterodactyl enclosure.

Grady was brushing the teeth of a bright orange male and Keefe was leaning against the bars watching. His gray tunic was streaked with mud, and tufts of purple fur were stuck in his especially messy hair.

“Grady’s been keeping me busy while you were gone,” Keefe explained.

“I can see that. Sorry. I told you I’d be home later.”

“Yeah, well, my dad started into one of his lectures on the importance of me living up to my potential. Anything’s better than that. Plus, it gave me a chance to play with Glitter Butt.”

“Glitter Butt?”

“Way better name than Silveny, right?”

“Wait—you’ve been
playing
with Silveny?”

“It’s bizarre,” Grady answered for him. “I had him help me feed her, since she responded to him last time. Next thing I knew she was nuzzling his neck, just like she does with you.”

“What can I say? Glitter Butt loves me.”

“Her name is not Glitter Butt.”

“It should be. She likes it better.”

“She does not.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I wouldn’t do it, Sophie,” Grady warned her. “She
really
likes Keefe. Which is great for us. She’s finally accepting another person.”

But . . . did it have to be
Keefe
?

Sophie rushed to Silveny’s enclosure, and as soon as the gleaming horse spotted her, the transmissions began.
Friend! Fly! Trust! Fly!

But there was a new word in the mix.

Keefe!

“See? I told you she likes me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do. I can feel her emotions without touching her—just like I can with yours. I didn’t notice it the last time I was around her because I assumed what I was feeling came from
you
. But now I can tell the difference.”

Keefe!

“Hey, Glitter Butt—did you miss me?”

Keefe! Keefe! Keefe!

Do you realize he’s calling you Glitter Butt?
Sophie transmitted. She sent a picture of a large, sparkly horse hind to illustrate.

Glitter Butt,
Silveny repeated.
Keefe!

Sophie rolled her eyes.

“If you’re jealous because you don’t have a cool nickname, we can start calling you Sparkle Fanny,” Keefe offered.

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself. Personally, I insist that you call me Shimmer Booty from now on.”

Keefe!
Silveny added.
Keefe! Fly! Keefe! Glitter Butt!

Sophie rubbed her temples. Just when she thought the transmissions couldn’t get any more annoying.

“So where were you anyway?” Keefe asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Grady said behind them.

When Sophie didn’t answer, everyone looked at Sandor.

“She was perfectly safe,” he assured them.

“I went to see Councillor Terik,” Sophie said, before Grady could grill Sandor further. “I’d asked him to help me find my old human things so I could pick up something.”

“Is that a
diary
?” Keefe asked as Sandor handed her the sparkly journal.

He tried to snatch it, but Sophie yanked it away just in time.
“I wrote it when I was five. All the entries are like three sentences long and they were just me plotting to annoy my sister.”

“Um, who
doesn’t
want to know more ways to annoy people?”

“Trust me, you already know them all.”

She caught Grady frowning at her. “It was fine,” she promised. “There’s nothing in the journal that could get me exiled—and Councillor Terik’s not like that anyway. He even took off his crown before he checked through the journal.”

“His circlet is merely a representation of his power. With or without it—”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her for the rest of the day,” Keefe said, offering a cheesy salute as he hooked an arm through Sophie’s.

Somehow Grady didn’t look comforted as Keefe led her away.

“DON’T YOU DARE,” SOPHIE SAID
, blocking Keefe as he tried to flop on her bed. “You smell like a wet rat. You can sit on the floor.”

He laughed and scooped up Iggy, scratching his fuzzy head. “Bet she treats you this way too, huh? Like it’s your fault your breath smells like something died inside you.”

Iggy squeaked and nuzzled Keefe’s hand. Sophie had to give him credit—he had a way with animals.

“So now that we’re alone, are you going to tell me what’s
really
in the rainbow-unicorn-diary thing? And by the way—
that’s
the kind of awesome human stuff I’d been hoping for. Please, feel free to go get more so I can make fun of it.”

Sophie sank to her bed with a sigh. “I’d
hoped
it had a clue in it. I can remember writing something in the margin—but of course the pages I needed have been torn out.” She flipped to the section with the jagged scraps of paper.

“Torn out by who? And aren’t you supposed to have a photographic memory?”

Sophie explained about Mr. Forkle and the strange gaps in her memory. “Clearly, there’s something they don’t want me to find.”

“Okay, that’s just . . . whoa. I mean, how do you deal with that and, like, go to school and hang with your friends and act so calm? I’d be running to Elwin screaming ‘
someone stole my memories—get them back!’
”

“Elwin can’t help,” she said, dropping the useless journal on the floor and kicking it away. “No one can.”

“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. I
knew
you were going to need me. You got a pencil around here?”

She pointed to her school satchel, and he rifled through and pulled out her silver pencils. Then he snatched the journal and started to plop down next to her.

“Nope—stinky boys sit on the floor.”

“Sheesh, ungrateful much?” he asked as he sank to the flowery carpet.