Keeper of the Lost Cities

FOUR

THE SCENERY BLURRED—BUT WHETHER IT was from tears or panic Sophie couldn’t be sure.

Everything she knew was wrong. Her entire life was a lie.

Fitz nudged her arm. “Hey. It’s not your fault. You believed what they taught you—I’m sure I’d have done the same thing. But it’s time you knew the truth. This is how the world really works. It’s not magic. It’s just how it is.”

The castle bells chimed, and Fitz yanked her behind a large rock as a gateway opened. Two elves with floor-length velvet capes draped over their black tunics emerged, followed by dozens of bizarre creatures marching in military formation down the rocky path. They were at least seven feet tall and wore only black pants, leaving their thick muscles prominently on display. With their flat noses and coarse gray skin, which fell in pleated folds, they looked part alien, part armadillo.

“Goblins,” Fitz whispered. “Probably the most dangerous creatures you’ll ever meet, which is why it’s a good thing they signed the treaty.”

“Then why are we hiding?” she whispered, hating her voice for trembling.

“We’re dressed like humans. Humans are forbidden in the Lost Cities—especially here, in Lumenaria. Lumenaria is where all the other worlds come together. Gnomes, dwarves, ogres, goblins, trolls.”

She was too overwhelmed to even think about the other creatures he was mentioning, so she focused on the better question. “Why are humans forbidden?”

He motioned for her to follow him to a rock farther away, squatting behind it. “They betrayed us. The Ancient Councillors offered them the same treaty they made with all the intelligent creatures, and they agreed. Then they decided they wanted to rule the world—like it even works that way—and started planning a war. The Ancients didn’t want violence, so they disappeared, forbid any contact with humans, and left them to their own devices. You can see how well that’s working out for them.”

Sophie opened her mouth to defend her race, but she could see Fitz’s point. War, crime, famine—humans had a lot of problems.

Plus, if everything he was saying was true, they weren’t her race. The realization chilled her much more than the frigid wind licking her cheeks.

“The stories told by the humans who’d known us must’ve sounded impossible after we disappeared, and eventually they evolved into the crazy myths you’ve heard. But this is the truth, Sophie.” Fitz pointed around them. “This is who you are. This is where you belong.”

Where you belong.

She’d waited her whole life to hear those three simple words. “I’m really an elf?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Sophie peeked through the rocks at the glowing castle—a place that wasn’t supposed to exist but was somehow right in front of her. Everything he was telling her was insane. But she knew it was true—she could feel it. Like a crucial piece of her identity had clicked into place.

“Okay,” she decided, her head spinning in a thousand directions. “I believe you.”

A loud clang sounded as another gate closed. Fitz stepped out of the shadows and pulled out a different wand—no, pathfinder—sleek and black with a cobalt blue crystal. “Ready to go home?”

Home.

The word jolted her back to reality. Mr. Sweeney would call her mom when she didn’t get on the bus. She needed to get home before her mom freaked.

Her heart sank a little.

Reality seemed so bland and boring after everything she’d seen. Still, she took his hand and stole one last look at the incredible view before the blinding light swept it away.

THE SMOKY ASH STUNG HER lungs after the crisp, fresh air of Lumenaria. Sophie looked around, surprised she recognized the plain square houses on the narrow, tree-lined street. They were a block away from her house. She decided not to ask how he knew where she lived.

Fitz coughed and glared at the sky. “You’d think humans could handle putting out a few fires before the smoke pollutes the whole planet.”

“They’re working on it,” she said, feeling a strange need to defend her home. “Plus, these aren’t normal fires. The arsonist used some sort of chemical when he started them, so they’re burning white hot, and the smoke smells sweet.”

Usually, wildfires made the city smell like barbecue. This time it was more like melting cotton candy—which was actually kind of nice, if it didn’t burn her eyes and rain ash.

“Arsonists.” Fitz shook his head. “Why would anyone want to watch the world burn?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She’d asked herself the same question, and she wasn’t sure there was an answer.

Fitz pulled the silver pathfinder out of his pocket.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, hoping he didn’t notice the way her voice hitched.

“I have to find out what my dad wants to do now—if he even knows. Neither of us thought you were going to be the girl.”

The girl. Like she was someone important.

If she could hear his thoughts, she’d know what he meant. But his mind was still a silent mystery. And she still had no idea why.

“He’s not going to be happy I took you to our cities,” he added, “even though I was careful no one saw us. So please don’t tell anyone about anything I’ve shown you today.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She held his gaze so he’d know she meant it.

He released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you. And make sure you act normal so your family doesn’t suspect anything.”

She nodded—but she had to ask one question before he left. “Fitz?” She squared her shoulders for courage. “Why can’t I hear your thoughts?”

The question knocked him back a step. “I still can’t believe you’re a Telepath.”

“Aren’t all elves Telepaths?”

“No. It’s a special ability. One of the rarer ones. And you’re only twelve, right?”

“I’ll be thirteen in six months,” she corrected, not liking the way he’d said “only.”

“That’s really young. They said I was the youngest to manifest, and I didn’t start reading minds until I was thirteen.”

She frowned. “But . . . I’ve been hearing thoughts since I was five.”

“Five?” He said it so loud it reverberated off the houses, and they both scanned the street to make sure no one was around.

“You’re sure?” he whispered.

“Positive.”

Waking up in the hospital after she hit her head wasn’t the kind of moment she could forget. She was hooked up to all kinds of crazy machines, with her parents hovering over her, shouting things she could barely separate from the voices filling her mind. All she could do was cry and hold her head and try to explain what was happening to a group of adults who didn’t understand—who would never understand. No one could make the noise go away, and the voices had haunted her ever since.

“Is that wrong?” she asked, not liking the worry etched between his brows.

“I have no idea.” His eyes narrowed, like he was trying to see inside her head.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you blocking me?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“I don’t even know what that is.” She stepped away, wishing the extra space could stop him from reading her private thoughts.

“It’s a way to keep Telepaths out. Kind of like putting a wall around your mind.”

“Is that why I can’t hear you?”

“Maybe. Can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

“I told you, I don’t hear your thoughts the way I do with other people.”

“That’s because humans have weak minds—but that’s not what I meant. If you listen, can you hear me?”

“I . . . don’t know. I’ve never tried to read a mind before.”

“You just have to trust your instincts. Concentrate. You’ll know what to do. Try.”

She hated being bossed around—especially since he wasn’t answering her questions. Then again, what he wanted her to do might be the only way to find out why he looked so concerned. She just had to figure out what he meant by “listen.”

She didn’t have to tell her ears to hear—they just did. But listening took action. She had to concentrate. Maybe mind reading worked the same way—like an extra sense.

She focused on his forehead, imagining that she was stretching out her consciousness like a mental shadow, feeling for his thoughts. After a second Fitz’s voice swept through her head. It wasn’t sharp or loud like human thoughts, more of a soft whisper brushing across her brain.

“You’ve never felt a mind as quiet as mine?” she blurted.

“You heard me?” He looked pale.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No one else can.”

She needed a few seconds to process that. “And you can’t read my mind?”

He shook his head. “Not even when I try my hardest.”

A whole new world of worries pressed down on her shoulders. She didn’t want to be different from the other elves. “Why?”

“I have no idea. But when you pair it with your eyes, and where you live—” He stopped, like he was afraid he’d said too much, then fumbled with the crystal on his pathfinder. “I need to ask my dad.”

“Wait—you can’t leave now.” Not when she had more questions than answers.

“I have to. I’ve already been gone too long—and you need to get home.”

She knew he was right. She didn’t want to get in trouble. But her knees still shook as he held the crystal to the sunlight. He was her only link to the amazing world she’d seen—the only proof that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

“Will I ever see you again?” she whispered.

“Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“How will I find you?”

He flashed a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”