Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(67)

Councillor Emery sighed. “Fine, we’ll grant a temporary reprieve—and resume our hunt tomorrow.”

“And Prentice?” Granite asked. “He does not belong here.”

Emery frowned at the bubble cage. “Rumor has it you’ve captured one of the Neverseen. We’d be willing to make an exchange.”

“Deal,” Mr. Forkle jumped in. When he saw Sophie’s surprise, he transmitted, Prentice is more important than Gethen.

“Very well,” Councillor Emery told them. “Bring your prisoner to Lumenaria at sunrise tomorrow for the trade. Are you done?”

“What about Oralie?” Sophie asked.

“I can handle myself,” Oralie promised.

“She can,” Bronte agreed. “So hand over that cache, Miss Foster, and you may leave.”

“The cache isn’t part of the deal,” Sophie said. “Otherwise how do I know you won’t betray us tomorrow?”

When they started to argue she moved toward the light. “Does that mean you’d rather I take this to the goblins? Or maybe the gnomes?”

The last word triggered the strongest reaction yet and left Councillor Emery waving his arms for silence.

“If you leave here with that cache, Miss Foster,” he warned, “you will be accountable for its protection. And should you fail, the consequences will be far worse than Exillium.”

“I can handle it,” Sophie said.

Emery glared at Oralie. “So be it. And you can find your own way out of Exile,” he told Mr. Forkle. “We’ll give you ten minutes, then the guards will restrain anyone in the halls.”

“We’ll be gone in five,” Granite promised as the Councillors raised red crystals up to the light.

Before they glittered away, Councillor Alina’s eyes met Sophie’s.

“You’re forgetting that Exillium is for the Unworthy,” she said. “You’ve just banished yourself and your friends from the Lost Cities—permanently.”





THIRTY-ONE


PHYSIC IS TREATING Fitz right now,” Dex told everyone as they rushed into the boys’ tree house. He sat on the floor, his legs curled into his chest, staring at the flickering fire pit.

“Can we see him?” Sophie asked.

Dex shook his head. “She said I should stay out here because it was going to get messy.”

“I’m his mother,” Della said. “I can handle messy.”

“I can as well,” Mr. Forkle said, following Della down the hall.

“Will you be okay?” Granite asked Sophie, Biana, and Keefe. “The rest of us should get back to the Lost Cities to avoid suspicion.”

Sophie nodded, wishing she could leap away with them—but she was banished.

She could never go home.

Never see her family or friends again . . .

She wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor—or at least pace anxiously back and forth like Keefe and Biana. But Dex’s eyes were rimmed with red, and tears stained his cheeks.

“Hey,” she said, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

Dex wiped his runny nose. “My invention caused all of this.”

“No, that was the Council,” Sophie corrected. “They set the trap. And Fitz’s injury really was an accident.”

“Still, if I hadn’t rushed to attack—”

“You were trying to help,” Sophie told him. “No one blames you for that.”

“I know my brother won’t,” Biana promised as she sat on Dex’s other side.

Dex didn’t look convinced.

“So what’s Physic like?” Keefe asked, sitting next to Sophie. “Did it seem like she knew what she was doing?”

“I don’t know,” Dex mumbled. “Normally I’d think someone wearing a sparkly mask and calling themselves Physic was crazy. But it’s the Black Swan, so . . .”

Sophie sighed. “She better be as good as Elwin.”

“If she’s not, we’ll sneak into the Lost Cities and kidnap him,” Keefe promised. When she didn’t smile, he nudged her with his elbow. “Aw, don’t worry too much, Foster. Fitz didn’t look half as bad as you did during your last few brushes with death, and you’re still with us—though maybe you two could cool it with the almost dying thing, okay?”

“I agree,” Mr. Forkle said, striding into the room. “Physic has things stabilized if you would like to see Mr. Vacker.”

Sophie’s knees shook so hard Keefe had to steady her on her way to Fitz’s room.

“Relax,” Keefe told her. “You’ll be back to Sophitz in no time. I bet . . .”

His joke died on his tongue when they slipped through the doorway and caught their first glimpse of Fitz. He was shirtless and unconscious, his chest covered in a black spiderweb of veins. Della sat beside him, holding a silver compress against his forehead.

“I killed Wonderboy,” Dex whispered, not helping things.

Keefe tightened his hold on Sophie’s shoulders.

“It looks worse than it is,” Physic promised, adjusting her mask, which looked Mardi-Gras style, with black swans painted around the eyes and purple jewels rimming the edges. The same purple jewels had been woven into her long, thin braids, and dotted along her dark skin. “I’ve already sealed the wound,” she added. “And I have the damaged tissue repairing. Now we just need to get the venom out of his system.”