Keeper of the Lost Cities (41 page)

He held her gaze, like he was waiting for her to blink. She didn’t.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he relented. “But deal.”

“Okay, then. I promise.”

“The Council will be happy to hear that. It will help at your tribunal.”

“Tribunal?”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “Bronte’s still insisting a tribunal be held for the laws you broke to collect the Everblaze. Plus, the Council has to decide your future at Foxfire.”

She tugged out an eyelash. She’d forgotten how uncertain her future still was. “When will it be?”

“Not right away. They’ve agreed to wait until you’re strong enough.”

“I’m strong enough.”

“Three days ago you had a banshee sleeping at your side, and we were terrified we would have to hold a real funeral for you.”

“Please don’t make me wait. I can’t stand not knowing.”

Alden studied her face for a long time before responding. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll arrange everything for tomorrow.”

She nodded. “It is.”

S
OPHIE SAT NEXT TO ALDEN ON A PEDESTAL
facing the twelve Councillors in Tribunal Hall—and this time it was a packed house. Friends, Mentors, strangers. Even enemies. Stina sneered at her as Bronte rose to read the charges.

Between the laws and the bylaws and the sub-bylaws, she’d committed five major transgressions and eleven minor transgressions—a new record. At least half of them carried the possibility of exile.

And yet, Sophie wasn’t afraid.

She’d been drugged and interrogated, watched her best friend tortured for trying to escape, and had to fight her way back from fading away. No matter what the Council decided, it could never be worse than what she’d already survived.

So her legs didn’t shake as she walked forward to speak her defense, and she didn’t tremble under Bronte’s glare. Her curtsy was as ungraceful as ever—she heard Stina snicker as she lost her balance at the end—but she held her head high as she faced the Council in all their regal glory.

“Miss Foster,” Emery said, his voice warm. “On behalf of the entire Council I’d like to express our relief that you made it home safely. We’d also like to assure you that we will find whoever was responsible for your kidnapping and make them see justice for their actions.”

“Thank you,” she said, proud of the strength in her voice.

“That being said, you stand before us today accused of very serious charges. What have you to say in your defense?”

She’d spent all night drafting the perfect apology for her actions, but she’d thrown it away before leaving Everglen. She wasn’t sorry for what she’d done, and she wouldn’t pretend otherwise. Oralie would know she was lying, anyway.

Sophie cleared her throat and addressed the entire Council—even Bronte. “I never wanted to break the law, and I don’t plan on doing it again. But people were losing their houses. People were dying. I know they were humans, but I couldn’t sit back and let it happen. I’m sorry if that’s a crime. I won’t argue if you punish me for my choice, but I firmly believe it was the right decision. I’d rather be punished for making the right decision than live with the guilt of making the wrong one for the rest of my life.”

Murmurs and whispers filled the room until Emery cleared his throat. Silence fell as he closed his eyes and placed his hands over his temples.

Most of the Councillors ignored her as they debated, but Terik glanced her way, shooting the tiniest wink when their eyes met. She hoped it was a good sign, but she couldn’t be sure. Emery held out his hands to silence the arguments raging in his head. His eyes locked with Sophie’s, his face unreadable.

“Thank you for your honesty, Miss Foster. While some of us”—he glanced at Bronte—“feel that your attitude is disrespectful and rebellious, none of us can deny that your actions uncovered a problem and conspiracy we ourselves had overlooked, and for that we owe you our gratitude. We can’t, however, simply
ignore
the fact that laws were broken.”

She sucked in a breath, preparing for the worst as the whispers and murmurs buzzed in her ears like static.

“There was much debate on what proper punishment would be,” Emery continued, with another sidelong glance at Bronte, “but a decision has been reached—and it
is
unanimous.” He cleared his throat. “Considering the fact that we, as your rulers, failed to protect you from recent unfortunate experiences, we feel that it would be inappropriate to assign any further punishment. Your transgressions will go on your permanent record, but your punishment will be marked as ‘already served’ and that will be the end of the matter. Is that understood?”

It took a second for the words to sink in—and another after that for her racing mind to realize he expected a response. “Yes,” Sophie practically sang, as the murmurs turned into chatter around her.

Punishment already served.
Could that really be it? Could it really be over?

“Which brings us to the matter of your Foxfire admission,” Emery shouted over the din, his words like a giant pin bursting the bubble she’d been floating in.

The room fell silent. Sophie’s heart thundered in her chest.

“Miss Foster, you were admitted to Foxfire on a provisional basis, and the matter was to be revisited once we’d seen your performance in your sessions. Due, however, to the aforementioned
unfortunate
experiences, you missed all of your final exams and are currently failing all of your sessions. And in order to preserve the integrity of our testing process, we cannot allow the exams to be made up at this time. So we’re at a bit of a loss as far as how to proceed.”

Bronte opened his mouth and Emery cut him off. “Your suggestion has been noted, Councillor Bronte. We are, however, hoping to hear a few other suggestions before we decide. I open this up to Miss Foster’s Mentors. Can any of you see a solution to her grade issues?”

Whispers hissed through the auditorium as all of her Mentors rose from their front row seats and bowed their respect.

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Tiergan said, smoothing his intricate blue cape as he stood and bowed. He’d dressed up for the occasion—it looked fancier than Lady Galvin’s.

“Ah, Sir Tiergan,” Emery said, his voice with a harder edge. “It’s been a long time since you’ve stood before us.”

“Yes. And I hope this time my appeal will be more successful,” he murmured.

Emery waved his hand, signaling that the floor was his.

Tiergan shuffled his feet. “Sophie is the most talented Telepath I’ve ever worked with, and I cannot imagine failing her for any reason. If you need proof that her skills hold up under test, well, I can’t think of any better proof than the fact that she managed to transmit halfway across the world to Fitz
and
send a mental image to guide him to her location—all while her body was fading away. For that alone I’d give her one hundred percent, if the Council would accept it.”

Sophie resisted the urge to run across the room and hug him.

There was a moment of silence before Emery nodded. “We would. But if she were to continue her studies at Foxfire, she would require a Mentor, and our records indicate you aren’t planning to return.”

“I would be willing to extend my stay as Mentor, provided Sophie could remain as my prodigy,” Tiergan agreed, looking only at Sophie.

She nodded, hoping he knew she appreciated his sacrifice. She knew how much he despised being part of the nobility.

“Excellent.” Emery turned to the other Mentors. “Anyone else have anything to add?”

Lady Anwen stepped forward. “Sophie knows more about the human species than any prodigy I’ve had, so I’ll gladly give her one hundred percent in multispeciesial studies. She was already passing with flying colors.”

Several of the Councillors nodded their agreement. Bronte scowled.

“The fact that she was able to pull herself back from fading away settles the mind over matter debate quite nicely,” Sir Faxon added. “And should definitely count for one hundred percent in metaphysics.” He bowed, and stepped aside to let Lady Dara forward.

She dipped an elaborate curtsy. “Sophie didn’t just learn history, she
made
history. Textbooks will be written about her someday, and I’ll not have them saying she received anything less that one hundred percent in my session.”

Hope flared in Sophie’s heart, but she tried to squash it. She still had her toughest Mentors left. She held her breath as Lady Alexine stepped forward.

“I think the fact that Miss Foster was able to leap an injured friend without a nexus and both of them survived to tell the tale is more than enough to earn her one hundred percent on her physical education exam.”

“And she found an unmapped star,” Sir Astin added. “Not to mention
she has the stars memorized
. She definitely deserves one hundred percent in the Universe.”

All the Councillors were smiling at this point—except Bronte. He turned his murderous glare on Sir Conley as he bowed and cleared his throat.

“Sophie successfully bottled a sample of Everblaze—something I doubt even I could’ve done. It would be absurd to give her anything less than one hundred percent in elementalism.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as all eyes turned to Lady Galvin.

She stood behind the others, fingering the jewels on her dark purple cape.

“Anything you would like to add?” Emery asked when she didn’t say anything.

Lady Galvin cleared her throat. “This will not be a popular decision, but Miss Foster barely passed her midterm and has struggled with my session all year. There’s no way I can justifiably pass her.”

Silence throbbed through the room as Emery frowned. “Nothing will change your mind?”

She turned to Sophie as she shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She sounded like she meant it.

The crowd buzzed with murmurs of displeasure, but Sophie could hear Stina’s cackle rise above it all. Right then she would’ve given
anything
to be a Vanisher and disappear.

“That is most unfortunate,” Emery said through a sigh. He glanced at the other Councillors, who were shaking their heads—except Bronte, who was smirking like a spider with a trapped fly. “It appears our hands are tied. We cannot allow Miss Foster to advance if she does not qualify for eight subjects. Perhaps we can agree to let her retake the year?” He turned to the other Councillors.

The room swam around her and Sophie wobbled on her feet. Being held back was better than Exillium—for sure. But it would still mean being left behind by all her friends.

“If I may propose an alternative solution?” Alden interrupted, rising with an elegant bow.

Sophie held her breath as Emery gestured for him to proceed.

“The rules state that she must
qualify
for eight sessions to advance. Not that she must
pass
eight sessions. And recent events have revealed that Sophie has developed a second special ability.” Alden paused for the murmurs in the crowd to quiet. “Obviously, that would
qualify
her for a session training her in her new ability. Therefore, it would seem not only practical
,
but prudent, to replace her alchemy session—which she obviously has no future career prospects in”—he flashed Sophie a smile—“with a session studying inflicting.”

The rumble of the audience shifting in their seats mirrored Sophie’s internal unease. She had mixed feelings about being able to inflict pain on others at will—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to train in it. But if it got her into the next level at Foxfire, it would be worth it.

Emery stroked his chin. “That would be logical.”

“Absolutely not,” Bronte barked, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “I refuse.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Emery informed him with a smile. “An ability as volatile as inflicting qualifies for a majority vote decision and”—he closed his eyes—“we have it. Eleven to one in favor. That settles it. Miss Foster will continue her studies at Foxfire, and an inflicting session will replace her alchemy session.”

Someone cheered—Dex or Keefe, Sophie wasn’t sure—and the whole audience followed their lead, erupting into applause and chanting her name.

“So I passed?” Sophie asked Alden, shouting over the chaos. “I can stay?”

She wanted to smile when he nodded, but the glare Bronte was directing at her was so hateful it nearly knocked her over.

He cleared his throat, silencing the room. “You can force me to Mentor her in my ability, but her final grade will be up to me, and I can guarantee she will not pass.”

Angry murmurs rose as Sophie turned to Alden. “Bronte’s going to be my
Mentor
?”

She waited for him to tell her it was a mistake, but Alden nodded. “Bronte’s the only registered Inflictor—besides you. It’s a very rare ability.”

Her mind reeled with horror. Bronte made Lady Galvin seem cuddly.
“But . . . he’s planning to fail me.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, just be glad you’ve earned another year at Foxfire.”

She knew he was right, but it was hard to be excited about a year of one-on-one sessions with Bronte—learning how to inflict pain. She didn’t even want to imagine how he’d teach something like that. Next year was going to be very interesting.

“There’s one more matter we must address before we close,” Emery announced, calling the room back to order. “It’s a delicate matter, however, and one I think best left only to immediate friends and family. Everyone else, please see yourselves out.” He waited until the crowd left, then turned to Sophie. “It appears we have two adoption requests for you, Miss Foster. One from Alden and Della Vacker, and the other from Grady and Edaline Ruewen. The Council feels it should be your choice, so we’re leaving the decision up to you.”

Sophie spun around, her eyes finding Grady and Edaline.

Grady gave her a small smile. “It’s your call, Sophie. Whatever you decide, we’ll still love you.”

Edaline nodded her agreement. Her eyes looked misty.

Alden squeezed Sophie’s hand and she jumped. She’d forgotten he was still next to her. “Della and I want you to be happy. Wherever you decide to live won’t change anything.”