“I know. So do I. And yet we’re both making it worse. So why don’t we stop trying to do it all on our own and start acting like a team?”
He held out his hand, and Sophie reluctantly shook it, feeling slightly gleeful when the ogling girls gasped.
Her smile faded as she remembered the other subject they needed to cover. “So, um . . . if we’re really going to be a team, don’t you think you should tell me what you saw in my mind?”
“I didn’t see as much as you’re probably thinking,” Fitz said carefully, “and I couldn’t understand it, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s hard to explain. I ended up in this crazy place Mr. Forkle called your emotional center. Now I get why Keefe’s always talking about how intense your emotions are. It was super overwhelming.”
“And that was where you were when Mr. Forkle said, ‘Remember this place. You may need it’?”
Fitz nodded. “He didn’t say why, though.”
“Of course not.” That wasn’t how Mr. Forkle worked. He was the only member of the Black Swan she’d met in person, but she still knew nothing about him. Even his name was a fake human identity he’d created to disguise himself as her next-door neighbor.
She wanted to ask Fitz more, but she’d spotted a small gelateria at the end of the alley.
“Think we should ask the shopkeeper if she knows about the Path of the Privileged?” Fitz asked as they peeked through the windows.
“I doubt she knows,” Sophie said. “But it’s worth a try.”
Her mouth watered as they made their way inside and studied the shiny bins heaped with sculpted mounds of colorful gelato. Every flavor looked amazing, so Sophie took the shopkeeper’s advice and ordered five cups of the melone.
“Okay, I don’t know what’s in this,” Fitz said as he took a heaping spoonful, “but it might be better than mallowmelt.”
Sophie wasn’t sure anything could beat the gooey cookie-cake thing elves made—but the gelato did come pretty close.
“Can you think of anywhere that could be called the Path of the Privileged?” Fitz asked the shopkeeper, his accent even crisper with the English words.
When the Shopkeeper didn’t answer, Sophie repeated the question in Italian, adding, “It’s for a school assignment. Our teachers have us doing a scavenger hunt, and that’s one of the clues they gave us.”
“I bet your teacher wants you to learn on your own, not let adults do your work for you,” the shopkeeper said, wagging her finger. “But since you at least spoke to me in my language, I will tell you that your teacher probably means the Vasari Corridor.”
As soon as the woman said the name, a dozen different facts clicked in Sophie’s memory. The Vasari Corridor was a historic walkway the Medicis had built between their palaces, so they could move through the city without having to walk among their people.
“Can you tell us how to get there?” Sophie asked, paying for their gelato as Fitz gathered the cups for Keefe, Dex, and Biana.
“One of the entrances is across the Arno, near the grottos at the Palazzo Pitti,” the shopkeeper told her. “The other is at the Uffizi Gallery. But there’s no point walking to either. All landmarks are closed today because of the fire.”
The sweet melon flavor turned sour on Sophie’s tongue. “What fire?”
“Late last night, at the Palazzo Vecchio. It breaks my heart. All that precious history lost because of some selfish arsonist.”
FOUR
IT HAS TO be Brant,” Sophie whispered as she watched the firemen rush around the Piazza della Signoria.
They’d ignored the shopkeeper’s warnings, using their obscurer to slip past the police blockades. The fire hadn’t killed anyone, and it had been extinguished before it spread to other buildings. But the famous Palazzo Vecchio’s stone walls were blackened and crumbling, and the clock tower was leaning more than the Tower of Pisa. The crowds behind them were crying, and Sophie understood their grief. She’d felt the same way the day she watched the elves’ capital city of Eternalia consumed by Everblaze.
“That wasn’t the building we needed, was it?” Fitz asked as they jumped out of the way of two firemen. “I thought the entrance to the corridor was in some place with a weird name?”
“The Uffizi,” Sophie agreed, pointing to the arched building next to the ruined palace. “But the police have closed all the landmarks, and an obscurer won’t fool sensors and alarms.”
“Well, I don’t think we should stay here,” Fitz said. “The Neverseen could be watching.”
“How do you know it’s them?” Dex asked. “Don’t humans have fires all the time?”
“Can’t you smell it?” Sophie asked.
Keefe sniffed the air. “It smells like burned sugar.”
“Exactly. I should’ve recognized it earlier. That’s how the San Diego fires smelled. And Brant set those.” She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to spot a figure in a hooded black cloak.