Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (8 page)

Grady pinched the bridge of his nose like the conversation was giving him a headache. Several seconds of silence passed before Edaline spoke for him.

“I think we should show it to Alden. See what he thinks we should do.”

“Works for me.” Sophie stood, dusting the grass off her wrinkled dress and pulling out her Imparter. “Should I hail him and let him know we’re coming to Everglen?”

“We can’t go right now,” Edaline said quietly. “We still have to visit Brant. But maybe it’s better if you don’t—”

“No, I’m coming with you.” All the information overload had made her forget there was another part to Grady and Edaline’s annual mourning tradition.

Visiting Jolie’s fiancé.

Grady and Edaline shared a look before Edaline reached for Sophie’s hand. “Are you sure? Seeing Brant is the most upsetting part of this whole process.”

More upsetting than visiting their daughter’s grave?

“Brant’s not himself anymore,” Grady said, like he knew what she was thinking. “It’s not easy to see him so . . . broken.”

His face was as haunted as his tone, and Edaline looked just as pale.

“I go where you go,” she told them, sounding like Sandor—minus the squeaky voice. She hadn’t been much help to them at Jolie’s grave, but she wasn’t letting them do this alone. Not anymore.

Not ever again.

“AN ELF LIVES
HERE
?”
SOPHIE
couldn’t help asking as the scenery came into focus.

Everything she’d seen in the elvin world was enormous and
made of jewels or crystal or glass, with elaborate architecture and gold or silver accents.

The square, windowless stone structure in front of them looked more like it belonged to a human. A poor, reclusive human, with ugly taste in houses.

Edaline fidgeted with the velvet satchel clutched in her white-knuckled hands. “We had to move Brant somewhere he felt safe.”

The house didn’t look “safe.” It looked cold and bleak. Even the land around it was nothing but jagged rocks and dark, dusty soil.

“Brant’s afraid of fire now, as I’m sure you can understand,” Grady said quietly. “He couldn’t sleep until we found him somewhere that wouldn’t burn. All his furnishings are fireproof—we even have his clothes specially made.”

“What about his family? Don’t they help you guys take care of him?”

Grady shifted uncomfortably, and Edaline’s eyes dropped to the ground.

“It’s . . . dangerous for them—not that
Brant’s
dangerous. He barely moves. Just stares at the wall, mumbling to himself. But the guilt . . .” Edaline’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before she whispered, “The guilt could break them apart.”

Grady took Edaline’s hand. “There’s a reason violence and cruelty are unheard of in our world, Sophie. Our minds
aren’t capable of processing the guilt that comes with such atrocities—or they aren’t supposed to be, at least. It’s why no one suspected kidnapping when you and Dex vanished. Why no one wanted to believe that the Everblaze was burning. Because if one of us were to do something like that, the guilt would splinter our minds and let the darkness seep through the cracks.”

“But why would Brant’s parents feel guilty?” Alden had told her the fire was an accident.

“They
shouldn’t
. But guilt is an insidious thing—especially mixed with severe grief. It slips inside, casting doubt, making you wonder if there was anything you could have done, anything that would have changed . . .” Grady stared into the distance, and Sophie wondered if Brant’s parents weren’t the only ones wrestling with guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.

“I know.” The anger in his tone was unmistakable, and he didn’t look at her as he walked away. But he’d only gone a few steps when he spun back to face her. “Before we go inside, you have to promise that you will not—under
any
circumstances—try to read Brant’s mind.”

“I know the rules of telepathy.” Telepaths had their own code of ethics to follow, rule number one of which was
Never read a mind without permission
.

“It’s more than that. Brant’s sanity
cracked
during the fire. Watching the house burn, knowing Jolie was inside, knowing
he couldn’t save her—it was too much.” Grady’s voice vanished for a second and he had to swallow to bring it back. “The trauma and guilt broke part of him. He’s not completely catatonic, like someone whose sanity is
shattered
. But reading Brant’s mind is
extremely
dangerous. Promise me you will
not
open your mind to his thoughts.”

“I promise.”

He stared her down, like he was searching for the truth in her words. Then he nodded, turned back toward the gray stone house, and climbed the steps to the thick metal door. Icy wind stung Sophie’s cheeks as she and Edaline followed. When they’d joined his side, Grady pulled the chain that hung above them, and a low chime rumbled through the house. Followed by an endless silence.

They stood there so long Sophie started to wonder if Brant was actually home.

Then a deep voice called, “Come in.”

D
ON’T STARE AT HIS SCARS.

Sophie repeated the command over and over, ordering herself to obey. She tried to focus on the gray walls with the glowing blue crystals set among the stones, or the four metal chairs—the only furniture in the room—that were bolted to the ground by large silver springs. But her eyes always returned to the warped, puckered dents on Brant’s chin, or the red splotches and thin white lines that twisted and tangled their way up half of his cheek.

He hacked a wheezing cough, covering his ruined mouth with a hand that was red and raw. “You brought a new person,” he rasped when his throat had cleared.

Grady wrapped an arm across her shoulders and Sophie was surprised to feel that he was trembling. “Yes, this is Sophie. She lives with us at Havenfield, now.”

Brant smiled, making his lip fold into the mottled lumps of flesh around it. Sophie dropped her eyes to the yellow-orange shirt he wore, with long floppy sleeves and a tie around the middle. It looked a bit like a bathrobe.

Brant coughed again. “How very . . . unexpected.” Before anyone could reply, he pointed to the satchel Edaline clutched against her stomach. “Is that for me?”

Edaline crossed the room to where Brant sat and placed the satchel in his lap. “You know I never forget.”

The fabric shredded as he tore into the sack the way a small child might rip open a present, revealing a round silver box. “Custard bursts!”

Edaline smiled. “Chocolate, butterscotch, and lushberry. I made them this morning.”

Brant pried open the lid, pulled out a square purple puff that looked a bit like a colored marshmallow and took a bite. Pink juice dribbled down the scar on his chin as he smacked his lips and stuffed the rest in his mouth. “Aren’t custard bursts the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” he asked Sophie, spitting bits of crumbs.

Sophie had never heard of them, but she didn’t want to admit it so she just said, “Yeah.”

His smile faded to a frown. “You’ve never tried one, have you?”

“No—I—” Sophie started, but Edaline cut her off.

“I only make them once a year.”

Brant didn’t say anything—and he definitely didn’t offer her one—as he closed the tin and tucked it back in the shreds of the bag. Sophie stared at her feet, counting the blisters peeking around the edges of her shoes. Seven separate welts had already formed—and she was sure there were more to come. But they stung less than knowing Edaline had a special treat she’d never shared with her.

Brant hacked another wheezing cough, shattering the silence.

“Are you sick?” Edaline asked.

“Don’t!” He shouted as she reached out like she wanted to check his forehead for fever. He curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, forming an impenetrable ball. “I’m fine.”

His voice sounded hoarse, though.

“Sit,” he ordered, motioning to the three empty chairs. “Tell me what’s happened over the last year. Clearly, there have been some
changes
.”

Sophie sank into a springy chair, surprised to discover it was actually comfortable. The metal was soft somehow, molding to her body like a cushion would—but it was cold. Or maybe the chill had more to do with the way Brant’s pale eyes had focused on her again. They were more of a gray than a blue, and they were framed with thick lashes the same jet black as his hair.
She realized then that Brant should have been good-looking. But the fire had ruined him.

Don’t stare at his scars.

“I’ve seen you before,” he murmured, still studying Sophie.

“You have?”

He nodded as his eyes traced every inch of her face, finally settling on her neck.

His metal tin of custard bursts clanged against the ground as he lunged for her.

Sophie shrieked and tried to block him, but he pinned her shoulders to her chair with one arm while his other hand tore at her cape.

“That’s mine!” he shouted as Grady yanked him away and tossed him to the far side of the room.

“What’s gotten into you?” Grady yelled as Brant cowered in the corner, murmuring, “Mine,” to his fist.

Edaline rushed to Sophie, checking her for injuries. “Are you all right?”

Sophie nodded, not quite able to speak yet. She kept one eye on Brant as she adjusted her clothes, frowning when she noticed something missing. “He stole my family crest.”

Brant kissed his fisted palm, and Sophie noticed the tiniest speck of yellow sparkle peeking between his fingers. “Mine,” he said, laughing this time.

“I . . . guess he recognized Jolie’s pin,” Edaline mumbled, her eyes turning watery.

“Brant, give it back,” Grady ordered, stalking toward him.

“It’s okay, he can keep it,” Sophie told Grady as he grabbed Brant’s hand and Brant screamed and tried to shove him away. She seemed to be making everything worse by being there—and she didn’t want that. Besides, Brant had known and loved Jolie in a way she never could. Jolie’s pin belonged to him much more than it ever would to her.

“Mine!” Brant shouted, laughing and kissing the jeweled bird before he slipped it into the pocket of his long cloak. His whole body relaxed when his treasure was safely tucked away and his face twisted into an ugly smile.

Edaline straightened up. “Maybe we should go—”

“No!” Brant shouted, coughing and shaking his head. When he met Sophie’s eyes he seemed calm again. “Stay.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Sophie promised, and after hesitating a second, Grady helped Brant settle back into his chair and handed him his tin of custard bursts.

Edaline stayed next to Sophie, playing bodyguard.

Brant coughed again, dry and hoarse.

“Want me to conjure you some tea?” Edaline offered.

“
Nothing hot!
” He dragged out the last word into a desperate wail. Then the wail turned into a crackling laugh and he rocked back and forth, rubbing his ruined chin.

Grady launched into a long update on everything that had happened over the last year, but Sophie couldn’t tell if Brant was actually listening. Mostly he stared at her with his damaged
face, which made her want to look anywhere but at him, and yet he held her gaze like a tractor beam.

Edaline finally broke their awkward staring contest when she mentioned Silveny.

Brant’s tin of custard bursts crashed to the ground again, and Sophie braced for another attack as Edaline jumped in front of her. But he simply stood, his eyes darting between the three of them. “You found another alicorn? A female?”

Grady moved to Sophie’s side, taking her hand. “Sophie was the one who picked up Silveny’s thoughts in the forest and helped us bring her home. She’ll be the one rehabilitating her too.”

Brant walked toward the wall, gazing at the smooth stones like someone might gaze out the window. “So the timeline will be reset.” He spun back toward them, his gray eyes sparkling as they met Sophie’s. “It’s a turning point. In our ever-changing world.”

“Uh . . . sure.”

The room fell into silence and Sophie started to squirm, wondering how much longer they’d have to sit there in the cold, unsettling room with the cold, unsettling elf.

Fortunately, Brant made it easy on them.

“I’m tired now,” he mumbled, dropping to the hard floor and curling up like a baby. “I need to rest.”

Sophie expected Grady and Edaline to help him to his bed. Instead they got up and crouched beside him, squeezing his shoulder and telling him to sleep well.

“See you next year,” Brant murmured through a yawn. He patted Jolie’s pin in his pocket, like he needed to make sure it was there before he closed his eyes.

By the time they made it to the door, Brant was already snoring.

“YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY?” GRADY
asked for the third time as they climbed the steps to their bedrooms at Havenfield.

Sophie forced a smile, hating that she’d gone to
support
them, and somehow ended up worrying them more. “It
was
hard, like you said it would be. But I’m fine, I promise. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re not going up there to try and figure out the Black Swan’s clue, are you?” Grady folded his arms across his chest.

The sun was barely setting, and none of them had eaten dinner, but Sophie was ready for the emotional day to be over. “They waited more than three weeks to contact me—they can wait another night.”

She leaned in to hug them good night, but Edaline pulled away. She closed her eyes and snapped her fingers and a small plate filled with four pink puffy squares appeared in her hand. Sophie jumped back a step—she wasn’t sure she’d
ever
get used to Edaline’s ability to pull things out of thin air—as Edaline held out the plate to her.

“I made these chocolate-cherry custard bursts for you. I guess I should’ve given them to you earlier. . . .”

“Thank you,” Sophie said, filling the silence when Edaline’s voice trailed off.

She picked up a piece, surprised when it felt smooth like a hard candy. But it was like biting into a sweet, sticky cloud filled with a fudgy chocolate cream and cherry goo. She had to slurp so it wouldn’t run down her chin.