EVERY FIBER OF SOPHIE’S BEING WANTED to run far, far away from the mutant insect of doom, especially since it would take her to get probed. But she gritted her teeth and ran into the carriage, pressing her back against the bench to be as far as possible from the hideous sea scorpion.

  “Where to?” the driver asked Alden with a laugh.

  “Quinlin Sonden’s office, please.”

  The driver shook the reins, and the giant scorpion thrashed its tail against the water, pulling them along.

  “So who is this Quinlin guy anyway?” Sophie asked.

  Alden smiled. “He’s the best probe I know. If anyone can slip into your brain, it’s him.”

  Something about the words “slip in” gave her the heebie-jeebies. She tried to think about something else to stay calm. “Why does he work down here?” Atlantis wasn’t a bad place, but she imagined the commute would get annoying after a while.

  “Atlantis is our most secure city. Anyone and anything that needs added protection is here. Including your file.”

  “I have a file?”

  “A highly classified one.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Alden shook his head and pointed to the driver. She’d have to wait till they were alone.

  The carriage entered some sort of business district. The streets were packed with elves, all in long black capes, and the silver buildings stood taller than the others, with round windows tracing down the sides and glowing signs bearing their names. TREASURY. REGISTRY. INTERSPECIESIAL SERVICES. But half the signs were unreadable.

  “What’s with the random strings of letters?” she asked, pointing to a building with gibberish for a sign.

  Alden tried to follow her gaze. “The runes?”

  “Is that what these are?” She held out her wrist, running her fingers along the nonsense writing on the nexus.

  Alden nodded. “That’s our ancient alphabet.”

  “You can’t read it?” Fitz sounded more surprised than she would have liked. Being the clueless one was getting old—fast.

  Alden stroked his chin. “But you can tell they’re letters?”

  “Yeah, but it’s just a big jumble. Is that going to be a problem for school?” She held her breath. What would the other kids think if she couldn’t even read?

  “Nah, it’s rarely used,” Fitz said, and she could breathe again. “Only when they want to be fancy or something.”

  She hesitated, hating that she had to ask her next question again. “Is it wrong that I can’t read them?”

  “Reading should be instinctive,” Alden admitted. “But maybe your human education affected you somehow. We’ve never had anyone with your upbringing, so it’s hard to say.”

  There was that word again. “Upbringing.” This giant gap between her and everyone else.

  How was she ever supposed to fit in if she was the only kid who went home to her human parents every night? But what other option did she have? No way her parents would let her move here. They wouldn’t even let her move across the country to go to college.

  “How—” she started to ask, but Alden cut her off.

  “No reason to worry, Sophie. I’m sure we’ll figure it out with further testing.”

  That wasn’t what she was going to ask, but the idea of more weird elf tests made her forget her other problems. She hoped she’d get through the next one without dropping a member of the Council.

  They turned down a narrow, quiet canal lined with purple trees with thick, broad leaves like kelp. The water dead-ended at a single silver building, a square tower with no windows or ornamentation, other than a small sign with precise white letters that read: QUINLIN SONDEN: CHIEF MENTALIST. All signs of life had vanished, and the small black door was closed tight. But the sea scorpion slowed to a stop, and Alden took a small green cube from his pocket. The driver swiped it across the cuff above his elbow and handed it back to Alden after it made a tiny ping.

  Sophie’s legs wobbled as she followed Alden toward the door. Despite Fitz’s earlier assurances, she couldn’t help wondering if the probe would hurt. Or worse—what humiliating memories Quinlin would find.

  Alden bypassed the receptionist in the dim foyer and headed to the only office in back. The small square room smelled damp, and half the space was filled with a massive stone desk. A tall, dark-skinned elf with chin-length black hair jumped from his seat and gave an elegant bow.

  “Please, there’s no need for ceremony, my friend,” Alden said with a wink.

  “Of course.” Quinlin’s gaze settled on Sophie. “Brown eyes?”

  “Definitely unique,” Alden agreed.

  “That’s an understatement.” He stared at Sophie long enough to make her squirm. “You really found her—after all these years?”

  And they still hadn’t explained why they’d been looking for her.

“You tell me,” Alden told Quinlin. “Do you have her file?”

  “Right here.” Quinlin held up a small silver square before handing it to Sophie.

  “You lick it,” Fitz explained. “They need your DNA.”

  She tried not to think about how unsanitary that was as she gave the square the tiniest lick. The metal grew warm, and Sophie nearly dropped it when a hologram flashed out of the center: two strands of DNA—rotating in the air with an unearthly glow. The word MATCH flashed across them in bright green.

  It took Sophie a second to realize she’d stopped breathing.

  She was a match. She really did belong.

  “So this is why Prentice sacrificed everything,” Quinlin breathed, staring at the glowing double helixes as though seeing a long-lost child.

  Prentice? Was that a name?

  And what did he sacrifice?

  Alden answered before she could ask. “He definitely had his reasons. You’ll see when you try the probe.”

  Sophie jumped as Alden squeezed her shoulders. He probably meant to reassure her, but it didn’t help as Quinlin reached toward her.

  “It’s no big deal, Sophie,” Fitz promised.

  “I’ll be done in less than a minute,” Quinlin added.

  She swallowed her fears and nodded.

  Two cold, slender fingers pressed against her temples, and Quinlin closed his eyes. Sophie counted the seconds as they ticked by. Two hundred seventy-eight passed before he pulled away—so much for less than a minute.

  Quinlin’s mouth hung open.

  “That’s what I thought,” Alden murmured, almost to himself. He turned and began pacing.

  “You can’t hear anything either?” Sophie asked. Part of her was relieved—she hated the idea of having her private thoughts invaded. But she didn’t like the look on Quinlin’s face, like all the wind had been knocked out of him.

  “What does that mean?” Quinlin asked quietly.

  “It means she’ll be the greatest Keeper we’ve ever known, once she’s older,” Alden said through a sigh.

  Quinlin snorted. “If she isn’t already.”

  Alden froze midstep. When he turned to face her, he looked pale.

  “What’s a Keeper?” Sophie asked.

  A second passed before Alden answered. “Some information is too important to record. So we’ll share it with a Keeper, a highly trained Telepath, and leave them in charge of protecting the secret.”

  “Then why would I already be one?”

  “Quinlin was joking about that.” Alden’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, which made it harder to believe.

  Then again, the only secret she was currently keeping was where she’d hidden her sister’s karaoke game, so she didn’t have to listen to Amy sing off-key all the time. How could she be a Keeper?

  “Perhaps we should talk upstairs.” Alden gestured to the foyer, where the receptionist was leaning toward them, making notes. Clearly eavesdropping.

  Quinlin led them to the far end of the small office. He licked a silver strip on the wall, and a narrow door slid open, revealing a winding stairway. They climbed to an empty oval room with live footage of brush fires projected across the walls.

  A cold chill settled into Sophie’s core when she recognized the city.

  “Why are you watching the San Diego wildfires?” She pointed to the aerial view of Southern California. White fire lines formed an almost perfect half circle around San Diego.

  “You know the area?” Quinlin asked.

  “Yeah, I live there.”

  Quinlin’s gasp made her ears ring.

  Thin lines etched into Alden’s forehead as he stared at the images. “Why didn’t you tell me there were fires?” he asked Fitz.

  “I didn’t know they were important.”

  “I didn’t ask you to tell me what was important. I asked you to tell me everything.” Alden turned to Quinlin. “Why were you watching the fires?”

  “They’re burning white hot—against the wind. Like they were set by someone who knew what they were doing. Plus . . . doesn’t it look like the sign?”

  Sophie had no idea what “the sign” was, but she didn’t like the way the lines on Alden’s forehead deepened. Little valleys of worry.

  “I’m guessing this is how you found the article you sent me,” Alden murmured. “I’d wondered why you were looking there. We ruled that area out years ago.”

  “Article?” Quinlin asked.

  “The one about the child prodigy in San Diego. Led me right to Sophie.”

  Reflections of the glowing flames made Quinlin look even more haunted as he shifted his weight. “I didn’t send you any articles. Did it have a note from me?”

  Alden frowned. “No. But you were the only one who knew what I was up to.”

  “Not the only one,” Quinlin said quietly.

  “What’s going on?” Sophie asked. She didn’t care about interrupting—or the warning Fitz was trying to communicate with his waving hands. “What sign? What’s wrong with the fires? Should I warn my family to get out of there?”

  Not being allowed to read minds was turning out to be more frustrating than she’d ever imagined. The answers she needed were right there—within her reach. But what would happen if they caught her taking them?

  She didn’t want to find out.

  “There’s no reason to worry, Sophie,” Alden promised. “I know this all seems very strange to you, but I assure you we have everything under control.”

  The calm tone to his voice made her cheeks feel hot. Maybe she was overreacting. “Sorry. It’s just been a weird day. Between the guy trying to grab me this morning and—”

  “What?” Quinlin interrupted, glancing between Sophie and Alden. “Was he . . . ?”

  “An elf?” Alden finished. “I doubt it.”

  “How can you be sure?” Quinlin asked.

  Alden turned to Sophie. “Why didn’t he take you?”

  She shuddered, remembering the desperate look in the kidnapper’s eyes before Mr. Forkle stepped in. “My neighbor threatened to call the police.”

  “See?” Alden told Quinlin. “They never would have backed down so easily.”

  “They?” Sophie didn’t like the idea the word implied—a nameless, faceless entity out to get her.

  Alden smiled. “I meant an elf—any elf. You’ve seen how quickly we can light leap. If one of us were really there to get you, no human threatening to call the authorities would stop them. They would’ve just grabbed you and leaped away.”

  She shivered at the thought. “But what about the fires? Why are they white?”

  “The arsonist probably used a chemical accelerant. Humans do so love their chemicals. I’ll look into it,” Alden promised. “I follow suspicious leads all the time, and they never amount to anything. Humans are always doing crazy, dangerous things. If they’re not lighting something on fire, they’re spilling oil in the ocean or blowing something up. Every time they do, I investigate to make sure things don’t get out of hand—but that doesn’t leave this room. The Council’s official position is to leave humans to their own devices. That’s another reason Quinlin works down here: The Council rarely takes the time to visit and find out what we’re up to.”

  “Bronte has his babysitter sitting outside my office all day, taking notes though,” Quinlin grumbled. “He could’ve at least picked someone who’s a decent receptionist.”

  Alden rolled his eyes. Then his smile returned. “At least she’s equally bad at spying. You should’ve seen Bronte’s face when he learned about Sophie. I thought steam might come out of his ears.”

  Quinlin laughed. “Keeping that secret for twelve years has to be a record.”

  “Why didn’t the Council know you were looking for me?” Sophie had to ask. Why all the secrecy?

  “Bronte had spe

cifically ordered us to ignore the evidence we found of your existence,” Alden explained. “He thought the DNA we’d discovered was a hoax and that my search was a waste of time. That’s why he was so hard on you today. He doesn’t like being wrong. And he really doesn’t like knowing that I’ve been working behind his back. So can I trust you to keep this quiet?” Alden waited for Sophie and Fitz to nod.

  Sophie couldn’t help feeling like she was missing something, so she wasn’t quite ready to agree. “Do you promise you’ll keep me updated on the fires?”

  Alden sighed. “I will, if there’s anything important. Agreed?”

  Sophie nodded, trying to make sense of the pieces she’d learned. Why would her DNA be a hoax? How did they even have her DNA?

  Alden turned to Quinlin. “Send me everything you have on the fires. I need to get Sophie back home.”

  “The information will be waiting for you,” Quinlin promised with a slight bow.

  “Thank you. Good to see you, my friend.”

  Alden’s pace felt rushed as he led Fitz and Sophie downstairs, bypassing the receptionist without so much as a nod. He hailed another sea scorpion carriage, but this time Sophie was too distracted to care about the evil-looking creature as it pulled them through the canals.

  Random facts floated through her mind. Prentice. DNA matches. Keepers. White-hot fires wrapping around the city where she lived. A “sign,” Quinlin had said. A sign of what?

  And why couldn’t anyone read her mind?

  She was no closer to the answer when the carriage slowed to a stop. They’d reached a small blue lagoon so far outside the city that the silver spires were nothing more than a tiny glint in the distance. Shimmery white dunes surrounded the small lake, and on the west shore stood a strange black statue—a narrow round base, which rose at least two stories high, topped with a wide hollow circle. An iridescent film shimmered across the center of the loop, making the whole apparatus resemble a giant bubble wand.

  “Hold on tight,” Alden said as he moved between Sophie and Fitz and took their hands.

  Before Sophie could ask why, Alden’s feet lifted off the ground, his strong arms pulling her—and Fitz—along with him as he floated out of the carriage. She clung to his hand with every bit of strength she had, shrieking as the ground grew farther and farther away.

 She blushed when Fitz chuckled. She needed to be better about keeping her cool.

  But now elves could levitate?

  What couldn’t they do?

  “Do I want to know what we’re doing?” she asked as Alden steered them toward the statue.

  “You’ll see,” Fitz told her.

  They passed through the center of the loop and the iridescent film stretched, forming a giant bubble around them.

  Sophie couldn’t resist touching the bubble’s side, which was warm and wet like the inside of her cheek. But a low rumble coming from beneath them demanded her attention.

  She glanced down just in time to see a giant geyser shoot up from the lagoon, and it launched their bubble out of Atlantis.