Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(19)

“Great,” Sophie mumbled. “Just what I wanted.”

“Hey, your eyes are what I always hear everyone talking about,” Biana reminded her.

“Yeah, because they’re calling me a freak.”

“That’s only Stina and her bratty friends. Everyone else thinks they’re striking and unique.”

Della sighed when Sophie shrugged off the compliment. “It must’ve been hard growing up as an elf among humans—and I don’t mean because you’re a Telepath, though I know that came with its own challenges. Jealousy is such a powerful force in their lives—and you have so many gifts.”

“How do you know so much about humans?” Sophie asked.

“That is a story for another time. But I’ve walked among them, and the reception I received was less than friendly.”

“Is that how it was for you?” Biana asked Sophie.

“Everyone pretty much hated me,” Sophie admitted. “They’d call me the Freakazoid, or Superdork, or the Special Sophieflake. But it didn’t help that I skipped six grades and had a bad habit of reminding teachers to collect our homework.”

“It’s better here, though, right?” Biana asked.

“In some ways. But I’m also ‘the human girl.’ And the Girl Who Was Taken. And now everyone looks at me like I’m public enemy number one.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” Della said. “And someday they’ll see that. In the meantime, please try to remember that there’s a difference between hiding by choice and hiding from fear. You should never be afraid of who you are.”

Sophie fussed with her perfect Della bow, accidentally messing it up.

She decided not to fix it.

“Look—they gave us Prattles!” Biana said, lifting a huge welcome basket she’d discovered. She handed Sophie the silver box with her name on it, then tore into her own, going straight for the tiny velvet pouch tucked among the nutty candy.

Every box of Prattles came with a collectible pin, shaped as one of the various animal species on the planet. Prattles limited the amount of each pin to how many of that creature existed, which meant some pins were extremely rare.

Biana held up her bluish green water-horse. “I’ve been wanting a Prattles’ kelpie forever! What’d you get?”

Sophie crunched on a piece of the candy as she fished out her pin, nearly choking when she saw the silver bird with long, gleaming feathers.

“The Prattles’ moonlark,” Biana whispered. “There are less than a hundred of those.”

And yet somehow the Black Swan had now given Sophie two.

The last time they gave her one, they’d been trying to convince her to stop the Everblaze. What were they trying to tell her this time?

She checked for a note and found nothing, but she was sure the pin couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Do you really trust the Black Swan?” Sophie asked Della, pinning the moonlark through the cord of her allergy remedy necklace before tucking it under her gown’s bodice.

“There are many shades of trust,” Della said, “and most of them are gray. But I’ve decided to hope for the best. Do you know why?”

Sophie shook her head.

“Because of you. If all their scheming resulted in such an incredible person, that’s a cause I can get behind.”

She meant the words to be comforting—and they were. Sort of.

They also were a storm in Sophie’s mind. A heavy pressure and an ominous rumble, warning of turbulence ahead.

Which reminded her . . . “You didn’t look happy with Mr. Forkle’s explanation about the gnomes from Wildwood.”

Della smiled. “Alden warned me that you’re very perceptive.”

“I have to be. Otherwise no one tells me anything.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She sank into one of the armchair-shaped shrubberies. “Have either of you studied the Wildwood Colony in multispeciesial studies?”

They both shook their heads.

“I guess I should’ve figured that. I think everyone would prefer the Colony didn’t exist. As Mr. Forkle said, the gnomes who live there often blame their problems on the ogres. And the timing of this plague seems especially deliberate. If the gnomes grew sick a few weeks ago, that would mean it started right around the time Sophie tried to read King Dimitar’s mind—”

“Wait—it’s my fault the gnomes are sick?” Sophie interrupted.

“There’s no fault,” Della promised. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of a hostile species.”

“Besides,” Biana added, “how can ogres control disease?”

Clearly Biana had never heard of ‘germ warfare.’ And if humans were capable of it, Sophie was sure the ogres were. Lady Cadence, her old Linguistics mentor who used to live with the ogres, had even told her that ogres were experts in biochemistry.

“We have to find out more,” Sophie said, running to get her soggy clothes. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that Oralie’s Imparter—and Kenric’s cache—were in her pockets before she’d stepped into the river.

“Show me Councillor Oralie,” she whispered, wiping water spots off the Imparter’s silver screen. Several agonizing seconds passed before Oralie’s face appeared in the center.