Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(63)

“Yes you can,” he told her. “You’re stronger than them.”

Maybe she was. But she needed something good to cling to.

“I need a happy story,” she said. “Something that always makes you feel confident.”

“Okay. Um . . . Gah—I’m drawing a blank.”

“I’ll do it,” Dex offered.

“No wait—I’ve got it! When I was five, my dad brought me with him to pick Alvar up after he’d been descryed. I’d been so jealous, since Councillor Terik was making a huge exception to his no-descrying policy just for my brother. But when we got to Councillor Terik’s castle he offered to descry me, too. It was the best surprise ever. And then he told me I’d grow up to become an even more powerful Telepath than my dad, and . . . that was the first time I ever thought I could be special. It made me feel unstoppable. And you’re a thousand times more talented than I am, Sophie. I know you can do this.”

Sophie stacked his words into a wall, and the violent noise seemed to dim, clearing her head enough to think.

The last time she’d been in Prentice’s mind, he’d responded when she’d transmitted her name. She tried that again, powering the words with the last of her mental strength.

Agonizing seconds slipped past, but eventually she caught a faint whisper through the darkness.

Swan song.

“I found him!” She pointed the way Della, Biana, and Wraith had gone.

“You’re sure?” Mr. Forkle asked. “It’s strange that they would place him near the exit.”

Sophie checked again, and the sound was definitely coming from that direction. But Prentice’s voice was slipping away.

She took off running.

Dex caught up with her first, “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she said as the path forked, and she turned down the narrower hall. No one questioned her, even as the hall shrank with each curve of the spiral.

The third turn led them to another fork.

“An adjunct within an adjunct?” Granite asked. “How is that even possible?”

“One path goes up to higher ground.” Mr. Forkle turned to Sophie. “Which way?”

Sophie listened for Prentice, but his ghostly voice had gone silent. She transmitted her name again, and when he didn’t respond, she tried Black Swan! Follow the pretty bird across the sky! Wylie!

The last word brought him back.

“Left,” Sophie said, taking the path that went up.

“Why would they want him closer to the surface?” Mr. Forkle asked Granite as they followed. “That seems illogical.”

“Perhaps there was no more room for additions. Or—”

A groaning alarm drowned out the rest of Granite’s sentence.

Sirens rumbled and croaked, reminding Sophie of a didgeridoo.

“Sounds like they know we’re here!” Mr. Forkle shouted.

Their run turned to a sprint, leaving them breathless as the hallway widened again. Sophie could feel Prentice ahead, each step turning his presence warmer.

Warmer.

WARMER.

“There,” she said, dashing up a flight of stairs.

They dead-ended in an unmarked silver door and Dex set to work on the enormous padlock.

“This is different than the one you gave me to practice on,” he grumbled.

“But you can open it?” Granite asked.

“I hope so.”

“How are you feeling?” Fitz asked Sophie as she shivered against the frozen wall. “Have you blocked out the voices?”

She rubbed her throbbing head. “Some are a little too strong right now.”

“Then let me give your mind a boost.” Fitz reached for her temples, and as soon as his fingers touched her skin, a burst of energy rushed into her consciousness. It felt like her brain had guzzled about fifty of Elwin’s healing elixirs and then got showered with caffeine.

“Is that better?” he asked, his hands shaking as he lowered them.

Sophie nodded. “What did you just do?”

“He shared his mental energy,” Mr. Forkle said. “Impressive, Mr. Vacker.”

Fitz blushed. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Got it!” Dex shouted, and they all spun toward the door.

Something passed between Granite and Mr. Forkle then, a look equal parts fear and hope as they pulled open Prentice’s cell.

The room was massive—easily as big as Sophie’s bedroom at Havenfield, which took up the entire third floor of the house. And it was empty, save for a large bubble of glass in the center, lit by silvery spotlights. Curled on the floor inside, lying on a thin blanket, was Prentice. His dark skin glistened with sweat and his hair was a tangled, matted mess. Drool streamed from his lips as he whispered words they couldn’t hear.

“Is there a way in?” Sophie asked as Dex placed his palms against the bubble.

“I don’t know. This glass feels solid. But there has to be a door.”

“Perhaps underneath?” Mr. Forkle suggested.

Dex dropped to his knees and put his ear against the floor.

The room made Sophie’s nerves prickle. Why waste all this space if they were going to keep Prentice locked in a bubble? And why was the ceiling a web of roots and wires and metal rods? Everything else in Exile was solid metal, to prevent anyone from tunneling in.