Keeper of the Lost Cities

EIGHTEEN

HOW WAS YOUR FIRST SESSION?” DEX asked as he handed her a tray and made room for her in the lunch line.

“Oh, fine—except I was almost electrocuted.” She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice. Sir Conley stopped the lightning from hitting her, catching it in a tiny fluted vial at the last possible second. But the hairs on her arms still stood on end. Especially since she’d also botched the class assignment, and she caught Sir Conley making notes about it. Would he be sending them to Bronte?

“That’s elementalism for you,” Dex said. “Wait till they make you collect your first tornado. They’re not easy to catch.”

Of course they weren’t. Because they were tornadoes! “Why do we have to learn to bottle that stuff, anyway?”

“Mastering all the elements is one of the steps toward entering the nobility.”

“Why?”

“No idea. Neither of my parents are in the nobility, so I don’t know much about it.”

Right. His parents were a “bad match”—whatever that meant. “Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you had detention?”

“I still have to eat,” he grumbled, filling his tray with brightly colored foods.

The lunch line wound through a series of stalls, like a food court at the mall. None of the food was recognizable, so Sophie grabbed whatever Dex took.

“Sorry I got detention on your first day. Are you going to be okay without me?”

“Sure.” She’d eaten lunch alone her whole life—what was one more day?

Except there were no empty tables inside the cafeteria, which took up the whole second floor of the glass pyramid. Sophie scanned the faces hoping to find Fitz, but all she saw were strangers, most of whom looked away, like they were tying to discourage her from joining them.

She was on the verge of panic when a pair of teal eyes caught her attention. Unfortunately, they were set into Biana’s perfect face.

Biana held her gaze and shook her head—barely perceptible—but the message came through loud and clear: Don’t even think about sitting here.

Sophie ignored the sting of the insult, focusing on the bigger problem. Biana was sitting next to Fitz. Where was she supposed to go now?

Jensi rushed to her side. “Hey, my friends and I have a table—it’s only guys—and most of them are pretty lame—but you can totally sit with us.”

She might’ve hugged him if her hands hadn’t been full. “Thanks, Jensi.”

If Jensi’s friends were human, they would’ve been skinny, with acne and braces. Since they were elves, they were fairly good looking—or they could’ve been if they hadn’t slicked their hair into greasy ponytails. They stared at her like they’d never seen a girl up close before. One of them even drooled.

“Sorry,” Jensi mumbled, setting his tray down with a bang. “C’mon, guys. I said be cool!”

“Sorry, dude,” they all said in unison, and went right on staring at Sophie.

Jensi sighed. “So, how was the E?”

“‘E’?”

“Elementalism,” one of the greasy ponytails explained. “Dude, you don’t know that’s what we call it?”

“Of course she doesn’t. She’s been living with humans,” Jensi explained before she could say anything. He grinned like he’d just done her a huge favor. But she had to fight the urge to crawl under the table. Especially when all his friends leaned back in their chairs and said, “Dude.”

She barely held back her sigh. “Elementalism was good. I wasn’t zapped.”

“Well, duh,” the drooly one volunteered. “Your clothes would be all singed and stuff if you were.”

Jensi rolled his eyes. “Anyway—what do you have next?”

“The Universe.” The name alone sounded daunting.

“Don’t you mean the U?” the drooly one asked with an exaggerated wink. The other guys giggled.

Jensi shot them all death looks. “That’s not what we call it. Stop messing with her.”

“Sorry, dude,” they mumbled.

“Enough with the ‘dude’—you guys are killing it!”

“Sorry, dude.”

Jensi looked ready to explode. Sophie covered her laugh with a cough.

“Thanks for taking care of her, guys, but I’ll take it from here,” a girl’s voice interrupted.

All the greasy ponytails stared and drooled again as a pixielike girl grabbed Sophie’s tray and motioned for her to follow.

“What are you doing?” Sophie hissed.

“Rescuing you,” she whispered, tossing her blond hair.

Not sure what else to do, Sophie murmured a quick goodbye and caught up with the girl.

“You can pay me back later,” she said without turning her head. She was extremely petite, and her uniform looked like it spent the night balled up on the floor, but she still looked pretty. Maybe it was the way she’d twisted some of her hair into tiny braids, or her huge, ice blue eyes.

“Sitting with those guys is social suicide,” she explained.

“Jensi’s not so bad,” Sophie argued. Sure he was a little overeager, but he’d come to her rescue twice already.

“Yeah, he’s fine, but those other guys . . .” She shuddered. “My name’s Marella. Not Mare. Not Ella. No nicknames.” She led Sophie to her table and set the tray down next to hers. “Most of the people here aren’t worth my time. But I figured anyone who got Stina to hate her in less than a day is my kind of girl. Take a seat.”

For some reason Sophie obeyed. “Stina hates me?”

“Oh yeah. But you’re better off. She’s evil.”

“So I keep hearing.” She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to have enemies though. Would Bronte use that against her if he found out?

“Anyway, I saw you over there with the drooly boys and felt sorry for you, so I thought I’d try making a friend.” The way she said it was almost like Sophie should feel honored. “You gonna eat or what?”

“Oh. Right.” Sophie took a small bite of a green puffy ball and felt her lips pucker. It tasted like sour licorice soaked in lemon juice. “Do you usually sit by yourself?” she asked when she could move her face again.

“Sometimes I let boys sit with me, but I’m not a fan of girls. Girls are annoying.” She shot Sophie a warning look, like she was ordering her not to be obnoxious. “Like, check out Princess Prettypants over there.” She pointed to Biana and rolled her eyes. “I’d rather hang out with a bunch of goblins.”

Sophie grinned. She couldn’t understand how such a grumpy brat could be related to Alden and Della—or Fitz.

“Her brother’s cute, though,” Marella said, her voice turning dreamy. “What I wouldn’t give . . .”

It took all of Sophie’s willpower not to agree. She took another bite of the green ball.

Marella smiled when she cringed. “Too sour?”

“Way. I guess that’s what I get for copying Dex.” She took a sip of lushberry juice to wash away the taste.

“Dex . . . strawberry blond curly hair and dimples, right? He’s cute. His family’s a little”—she looped her finger around her ear—“but that’s not really his fault.”

“His parents seemed okay when I met them,” Sophie said, defending her friend.

“The Dizznees are nice, but they’re odd. I mean, they have triplets!”

“And having triplets is . . . bad?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how it is in the Forbidden Cities, but here we have our kids one at a time. So to have three at once is weird. My mom says it’s because his parents were a bad match.”

Sophie tensed at the insult. “What exactly is a ‘bad match’?”

“A couple that was ruled genetically incompatible. Usually means their kids will be inferior—and if you’d met the triplets, you’d believe me. No way those kids will be normal.” She shrugged. “Even his aunt and uncle are superstrange.”

“Grady and Edaline?”

She nodded. “They used to be celebrities—like, more famous than the Vackers.”

“Who?”

Marella shot her another warning look. “Fitz and Biana. Their dad’s superimportant—their whole family is. But Grady was even more important, ’cause he has such a rare special ability. Then their daughter died and they freaked out and cut themselves off from everyone.”

Sophie wasn’t sure she liked Marella’s tone. There wasn’t even a hint of sympathy. “You guys really don’t understand how hard death is, do you?”

“And you do?”

She nodded. “My grandma died when I was eight, and my mom cried for weeks.”

She’d had to hear every one of her mom’s heartbroken thoughts, and there was nothing she could say to make her less sad—or to bring her grandma back. It was the most helpless she could remember feeling.

“Weird,” was all Marella had to say to that. “Anyway, Dex seems okay. I know some people think he’ll end up in Exillium, but I doubt it.”

Ice ran through Sophie’s veins at the name. “What’s Exillium?”

“The school where they send the hopeless cases. It’s pretty much a guarantee you’ll end up scooping mammoth poop at the Sanctuary when you grow up—and that’s if you’re lucky.”

Sophie couldn’t hide her shudder. She had to do well in her sessions. There was no way she was going to that awful place. She’d do whatever it took.

HER AFTERNOON SESSION WAS THE Universe, and it was as daunting as she’d feared. Every star. Every planet. Every possible astronomical object—she’d be learning them all.

But Sir Astin—a pale blond elf with a soft, whispery voice—said she was a natural. Apparently, he’d never taught a prodigy with a photographic memory strong enough to remember the complex star maps he projected across the walls of the dark planetarium. Sophie had no idea why it was so effortless for her, but she wasn’t complaining. At least she had one session she excelled at. She hoped Sir Astin sent Bronte a note about that.

Every day ended with an hour of study hall on the first floor of the pyramid with the rest of the school. Dex waved her over to a seat he’d saved for her. “You survived,” he said as she plopped down next to him.

“So far.” She smiled as she dug out her Universe homework.

“There you are,” Fitz said, approaching their table. His green Level Four uniform somehow looked better on him than on anyone else—even the cape looked good, especially with the green dragon clasp. “Why didn’t you sit with us at lunch?”

She chose not to tell him about Biana’s hateful glare. “Jensi invited me to sit with him, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Ah. Well, maybe tomorrow then. Oh, and”—he handed her a folded slip of paper—“my dad asked me to give you this.”

Inside the note were two short sentences in precise letters:

The San Diego fires have been extinguished. No reason to worry.

Sophie smiled. Her family didn’t live there anymore, but it was still a relief that the fires were out. Everything was back to normal.

Dex cleared his throat.

“Oh, sorry. Do you guys know each other?” she asked, stuffing the note in her satchel.

Dex said, “Yes,” at the same time Fitz said, “No.” Awkward.

“Well,” she said, trying to fill the silence. “This is Dex.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Right,” Dex snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing, apparently.”

Fitz frowned. Dex glared. Sophie watched them, trying to make sense of the animosity.

“I should get started on my homework,” Fitz said after a second. He smiled and her heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. “I just wanted to check on you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, and uh, nice to meet you, Deck,” he added with a hasty nod as he walked away.

“It’s Dex,” he growled.

“What is up with you?” she whispered.

“Me? ‘Nice to meet you, Deck,’” he repeated in an uncanny impersonation of Fitz’s precise accent.

She fought off her smile. “I’m sure that was an innocent mistake.”

“Please. I see him all the time—not that his royal highness bothers remembering. But he remembers you. Why is that, by the way—and why did he give you a note from his dad?”

“I stayed with his family my first night here, and Alden promised to get back to me about something. It’s about my old life. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Figures.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just hate that family. Everyone thinks they’re so cool and talented. But they’re totally overrated. ‘Deck,’” he muttered.

“Maybe Fitz just heard me wrong.”

“Yeah, right. Listen to you defending him. You’re just like all the other girls, you know that? I saw what you did when he smiled at you. You lit up.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. You were beaming.”

Beaming? Did Fitz see that too? “I wasn’t beaming,” she argued.

Dex rolled his eyes. “Girls.”