DON’T ELVES EVER DO ANYTHING THE normal way?” Sophie asked as she watched the waves crash far below. Their bubble bobbed on the breeze, high in the clouds.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Alden’s smile lifted the worry she’d been carrying since they left Quinlin’s office. If he could relax, maybe things weren’t as scary as they seemed. Plus, it was hard to feel anything other than pure joy as she floated above the world in a giant bubble.

  Especially when Fitz took her hand again. “Ready to go home?” he asked, holding his pathfinder in the sunlight.

  She barely had time to agree. The bubble popped, and she could only get half her scream out before the warm rush whisked them away.

  SOPHIE SQUINTED IN THE GLARING light. “I thought you meant my home,” she said as she stared once again at the enormous gates of Everglen.

  She was actually relieved. They still hadn’t explained what she was supposed to tell her family about all of this. In fact, there were quite a few things they hadn’t explained. Her brain felt ready to burst with all the unanswered questions. “So what am I supposed to—”

  Her question was cut short by a flash of light that made everyone shield their faces. When Sophie opened her eyes, a tall elf in a simple black tunic strode toward them. His olive skin stood in sharp contrast to his pale blond hair, and while his face held youth, something ancient shone in his dark blue eyes.

  “You’ve got some nerve summoning me,” he shouted, stepping right into Alden’s personal space. He was a couple inches shorter than Alden, but he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the height difference. “I’d sooner be exiled than train anyone in your family.”

  From the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Fitz’s hands clench into fists. Alden barely blinked. He took a small step backward, and smiled.

  “Yes, Tiergan—I’m well aware of your opinion of me. I can assure you, I wouldn’t have summoned you if I wasn’t convinced that it would be what Prentice would want.”

  Tiergan’s fierce expression crumbled. He backed away, crossing his arms against his chest. “Since when are you the expert on anything Prentice wanted?”

  “Who’s Prentice?” Sophie had to ask.

  Tiergan spun toward her and his eyes did a quick inventory, widening when they locked with hers.

  “Yes,” Alden said when Tiergan gasped. “Whatever you’re thinking, yes. Tiergan, I’d like you to meet Sophie Foster. Foxfire’s newest prodigy, who happens to need a telepathy Mentor.”

  Tiergan swallowed several times before he spoke. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The one Prentice was hiding?”

  “Yes,” Alden agreed. “She’s been living with humans for the past twelve years.”

  “Okay, seriously,” Sophie interrupted. The way Tiergan was staring at her—like he’d just watched someone kill his favorite puppy—was officially weirding her out. “Who is Prentice, and what does he have to do with me?”

  “I’m sorry, that’s classified information, Sophie,” Alden said quietly.

  “But it’s about me.” She glanced at Fitz for help, but he shrugged, like it was out of his hands.

  “If it becomes important for you to know, I will tell you,” Alden promised. “For now, all anyone needs to know is that you are the most incredible Telepath I’ve ever seen, and you need a Mentor. Which is why I summoned you,” he added, turning to Tiergan. “Sophie has already broken through Fitz’s and Bronte’s blocking without training. She needs the best Mentor we can provide. I know you’re retired, but I thought—given the circumstances—you might be persuaded to return to Foxfire.”

  Anger and resentment danced across Tiergan’s features, so the last thing Sophie expected was for him to nod.

  “You’ll do it?” Alden asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and relief.

  “Yes. But only for this year. That will be more than enough to hone her abilities. Then you leave me alone and never ask for my assistance again.”

  “That’s more than reasonable,” Alden agreed.

  “Wait,” Sophie interrupted. “Do I get any say in this?”

  “What do you mean?” Alden asked.

  She needed a deep breath before she could answer. “I’m not sure I want to get better at telepathy.” She’d always hated reading minds, and that was before she had to worry about serious rules and restrictions on it. And Tiergan didn’t seem like he even wanted to train her. Maybe it was better to just pretend she wasn’t a Telepath at all.

  “Are you crazy?” Fitz asked. “Do you have any idea what an opportunity this is—”

  Tiergan raised a hand, silencing him. He took a step closer to Sophie, waiting for her to meet his eyes. “Being a Telepath around humans is quite a burden. I’ll bet you’ve had terrible headaches and heard all kinds of things you didn’t want to hear. Right?”

  She nodded, stunned by his sudden change in mood. He sounded almost . . . kind.

  He frowned and looked away, mumbling something she mostly didn’t understand. But she thought she caught the word “irresponsible.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said after a second. “With proper training you’ll learn to manage your ability. But you do have a choice. There should always be a choice.” He said the last part louder, like it was for Alden’s benefit. “If you don’t want telepathy training, you don’t have to have it.”

  Sophie could feel the weight of everyone’s stares. She knew what Alden and Fitz wanted her to say. And it would be nice to control her ability. “I guess I can give it a try.”

  “You guess,” Fitz snorted, so low he probably thought she couldn’t hear it.

  Tiergan glared at him, and Fitz looked away, his cheeks flushing pink.

  Alden cleared his throat. “Well, that settles that, then. I’ll notify Dame Alina that you’ll be returning to Foxfire. But the name of your prodigy will be kept classified. The Council doesn’t want anyone knowing Sophie’s a Telepath until she’s older.”

  “Why do I have to hide it?” she asked. His words touched a bruise. She thought she was done hiding her abilities.

  “You won’t have to hide it forever,” Alden said gently. “Just for a little while, to give everyone time to adjust to you. In the meantime, the session will be listed as remedial studies on your schedule.”

  Adjust. Like she was a problem they’d have to get used to. And why didn’t they call it Elf Lessons for Dummies, while they were at it?

  “I know this is all very confusing, Sophie, but I will do my best to explain everything when we get inside, okay?” Alden asked.

  She nodded. What choice did she have?

  “Good.” He turned to Tiergan, who had backed a few feet away from everyone. “I’m assuming you don’t want to come in.”

  “Finally, a correct assumption.” Tiergan’s voice was cold, but it warmed when he looked at Sophie. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” Then he raised a pathfinder to the light and vanished in a brilliant flash.

  Alden laughed. “Well, that went better than expected.” He licked a panel on the enormous gates, taking Sophie’s hand as they swung inward. “Come on, Sophie

. Let’s see if I can’t answer some of those questions I’m sure are floating around in your head.”

  He led her through Everglen’s sprawling grounds, explaining how her new school schedule would have two sessions a day plus lunch and study hall. She’d be a “prodigy”—their word for student—and she would carry eight subjects, most of which were taught one-on-one by a Mentor, who were members of the nobility. Sophie’s nerves tingled at the idea of one-on-one sessions with royalty. Talk about pressure to succeed.

  Not to mention how behind she would be. The school year was already in session, and she was starting as a Level Two, the proper grade level for her age. So she’d be starting over, relearning everything she’d ever been taught, and already behind. It was a long way to fall from being the top of her class her whole life.

  Self-doubt weighed heavier on her shoulders with each step, but she fought against it. She belonged here. She needed to believe that. Her fragmented life was finally coming together.

  Well . . . almost.

  “What am I supposed to tell my family?” she asked Alden. “They’re not going to let me disappear every day with no explanation.”

  Alden bit his lip as he opened the doors to Everglen and stepped aside to let her and Fitz pass. “About that, Sophie. You and I need to have a talk.”

  The sorrow in his eyes made her feel like she’d swallowed something slimy. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

  “My office is this way,” Alden said, leading her through another shimmering hall. “We can talk there. There is much to dis—”

  The sound of arguing cut him off, and when they entered a wide sitting room filled with overstuffed armchairs and elegant statues, they found a dark-haired girl about Sophie’s age, who appeared to be shouting at herself.

  A woman wearing an elegant purple gown appeared out of thin air next to the girl and said, “You’re home.”

  Sophie squealed. Fitz snickered. So much for keeping her cool.

  “Sophie, this is my wife, Della.” Alden’s cheeks were pinched—like he was trying not to laugh. “And my daughter, Biana,” he added, gesturing to the girl. “My dear, I don’t believe our guest is used to being around Vanishers.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Della said, smiling at Sophie. She had a musical voice with just a hint of Alden and Fitz’s accent. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Sophie mumbled, trying not to stare. Della’s beauty was like a force, pulling every eye to her as she tossed her long, chocolate brown hair and pursed her heart-shaped lips. And Biana had all of her parents’ best features, combined in the best possible way. It was hard not to feel like a gangly troll, especially when Biana frowned and asked, “Is that my dress?”

  “Yes.” Alden interceded. “Sophie needed to borrow it to go on a few errands.”

  “I can go change,” Sophie offered.

  “No, that’s fine,” Biana said, looking away. “You can keep it. It’s kind of frumpy.”

  “Oh . . . thanks.”

  “Quinlin sent the files you requested,” Della told Alden. “I put them in your office.” Her smile faded. “And the Council denied our request. But they did approve Grady and Edaline.”

  Alden ran a hand through his hair—the same way Fitz did when he was frustrated. “In that case, I’d better make a call.” He turned to Sophie. “Then we’ll have a long talk, okay?”

  She nodded, a little torn when he set off down the hall. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to say—and she wasn’t ready to hear it. But she wasn’t sure what to say to Della or Biana. She could feel them staring at her.

  “The Council sent these for you,” Della said with a radiant smile. She held out two small parcels wrapped in thick white paper as she walked toward Sophie, blinking in and out with every step, like a strobe light.

  “She doesn’t realize she does it,” Fitz explained when Sophie’s eyes widened. “Vanishers let light pass through their bodies, so they can turn invisible, even when they move.”

  Della unwrapped the packages. “Hold up that pretty blond hair, will you?”

  Sophie did as she asked, and Della clasped a thick silver cord around her neck. It fit like a choker, with a single pendant—an etched silver loop with a small clear crystal set in the center. Her registry pendant, Della explained. Everyone had to wear one, so they could be easily found. It was kind of pretty. But mostly it was one more elf-y thing she’d have to explain to her family.

  Della handed Sophie a tiny green cube. “Anytime you need to pay for anything, just give them that. Your birth fund’s been activated.”

  It took a minute for the words “birth fund” to register. “I have money?”

  Della nodded. “The standard five million.”

  “Dollars?”

  “Lusters,” Fitz corrected, laughing. “One luster is probably worth a million dollars.”

  “What’s a dollar?” Biana interrupted.

  “Human money.”

  She crinkled her perfect little nose. “Ew.”

  Sophie ignored the insult. How could the elves afford to give away so much money?

  “We do things differently around here,” Della explained. “Money is something we have, not something we need. No one ever has to go without.”

  Sophie couldn’t believe it. “But . . . why does anyone work, then—if they already have money?”

  “What else would we do with our time?”

  “I don’t know. Something fun?”

  “Work is fun,” Della corrected. “Remember—we’re not limited to seventy or eighty years. Once you get used to that idea, I think you’ll find our way makes much more sense.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed, still trying to wrap her head around it.

  “All set?” Alden asked, coming back into the room.

  Della nodded. “Were you able to change their minds?”

  Alden shook his head, and Della’s face fell. In fact, everyone looked . . . sad—except Biana, who looked relieved.

  “What’s going on?” Sophie asked, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest.

  Alden let out a long, slow sigh. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s go have that talk.”