The gesture felt protective this time, and his voice was all sharp edges as he told Livvy, “If you let anything happen to her—”
“Got it,” Livvy interrupted, tossing her braids again, and Sophie noticed that they glinted with tiny yellow jewels, which matched the sunny glitter Livvy had brushed across her dark skin. “And you can ease up on the worry there, Pretty Boy. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to your sweet girl.”
“Uh, you’re still going to give her something she’s deathly allergic to, right?” Fitz asked.
Livvy’s smile faded. “Okay, I guess what I should say is that I’m only going to let some temporary bad stuff happen to your sweet girl—and then I’m going to fix it all and make her a thousand times better. So you don’t have to worry, even though I get that you’re all going to. And while we’re being honest here, I’ll tell you what I just told the worrying-adult brigade inside: Moments of this definitely aren’t going to be pretty. So if you don’t want to see that, you might want to skedaddle.”
“I’m staying,” Fitz and Keefe said, pretty much simultaneously, followed by Biana a half second later.
“What about you?” Livvy asked Stina. “You’re new.”
“I am,” Stina agreed. And there wasn’t a drop of snottiness in her voice when she said, “And I’m staying right here.”
Things seemed to speed up after that as the rest of Sophie’s audience made their way over and Livvy moved everyone into position. Sophie climbed onto her pillow-and-blanket mountain and tried to focus on the whispering melodies coming from Calla’s tree as Livvy put Fitz on Sophie’s left and Keefe on her right, so each boy would be able to hold one of her hands during the reset—Keefe to monitor her emotions, and Fitz to keep track of her consciousness. Then Grady, Edaline, and Mr. Forkle were lined up right behind them, along with Sandor and Flori, and Flori added her own soft humming to the Panakes’ melodies as everyone else formed a half-moon curve around the tree—except for Elwin.
Elwin set Bullhorn on the pillow next to Sophie and moved to Livvy’s side—and Sophie tried to concentrate on all of the serious medical stuff they then went over with her. But she didn’t want to see the needle.
She knew it was there.
She’d caught a quick glance of the glass syringe filled with a thick blue liquid when Livvy handed it to Elwin.
And she knew it was the treatment that would save her life in the end.
But that didn’t stop her mind from thinking, Needle needle needle.
She tried to distract herself by staring into Bullhorn’s beady purple eyes, silently begging him not to freak everyone out as much as he had the last time.
“I’m going to be fine,” she whispered to him.
Bullhorn snorted.
And her brain thought, Needle. Needle. Needle.
“You will be fine,” Livvy assured her. “Regardless of what you choose, okay?”
Sophie nodded—and then her brain caught up to what Livvy had just said. “What do you mean ‘regardless of what I choose’?”
“I mean you still have one more decision to make before we get started.” She sat next to Sophie on the pillow-mountain and held out her hands, which were both curled into fists. “The thing is, as I was putting together this fix, I realized there were two ways to do it. We can go small”—she opened her left fist, revealing a tiny milky-white pill—“or we can go big”—she opened her right fist, revealing a larger pill that was shimmering emerald green. “Either one will trigger a reaction that will reset your inflicting.”
“So what’s the difference?” Sophie asked as Sandor and Grady already started calling for her to pick the white pill.
“The difference is, the white pill has a quarter of an ounce of limbium in it,” Livvy explained, “plus some other stuff to target the inflicting parts of your brain. And the green pill has half an ounce of limbium, the same stuff to target the inflicting parts of your brain, plus some stuff that’ll target one other place.”
“Where?” Grady demanded before Sophie could ask.
Livvy chewed her lip. “Her heart.”
Sophie reached for her chest, pressing her fingers against her ribs. “My heart.”
Livvy nodded. “The power for most abilities comes from our brain—but everything I’ve read on inflicting says it works a little differently. Your brain switches the ability on, but the real power comes from here”—she pounded the fist holding the green pill against her chest—“because inflicting’s all about channeling your emotions out into the world. And the emotions here”—she pounded her chest again—“are so much purer. So if we really want to see how strong your power can be, we should reset both places—head and heart. But we also absolutely don’t have to. I want to be super clear about that. Everything we’re trying to fix will be covered by this.” She held up the white pill. “This will make it so your brain reins in your emotions the way we designed it to, and let you channel them in a much more targeted way. This is absolutely a solution.”
“But the green pill’s better,” Sophie pressed.
“ ‘Better’ might not be the right word,” Livvy told her, “because it does up the risks as well—and probably your recovery time too, since it’s going to stop your heart for a few seconds, and that’ll take a toll.”
Now there were a lot more people calling for her to take the white pill.
Including Fitz.
And it did look so much simpler.
Small. Bland. Boring.
The green was so much more vibrant.
The color of life.
But also the color the elves wore to their funerals.
“You think I should take the green pill, don’t you?” Sophie asked Livvy.
“I think it’s your decision,” Livvy corrected.
“But you made the green pill,” Sophie reminded her. “You could’ve stopped at the white, but you knew you could probably do better so you kept going, right?”
Livvy sighed. “I’m a scientist, Sophie. I like pushing limits and solving puzzles. And your genetics are basically a playground for me. The last reset we did on you was completely mental, so part of me wants to know what’ll happen if we stray into uncharted territory and tweak a few other things with your heart. That’s why I made the green pill. And I’ve done everything in my power to make sure it’s still safe for you. But ‘safe’ in this kind of situation leaves room for a lot of pain—and the potential for side effects. So the white pill really might be your better option. It’s up to you and how hard you want to fight through.”
Livvy held out both pills again as Elwin handed Sophie a bottle of Youth.
And it sounded like pretty much everybody wanted her to take the white pill.
She didn’t hear a single call for green.
But there were definitely a few voices missing from the shouting.
Friends who were letting her decide.
But would probably take the bigger risk.
And the songs whispering through the air turned to melodies of boldness and bravery. Of tiny roots finding the strength to crack through solid stone.
“Just take the white pill, Sophie,” Fitz pleaded. “You’ve risked enough.”
She had.
Over and over and over.
And she was tired of it.
But the fight wasn’t finished yet.
And what was the point of fighting if she wasn’t going to put her whole heart into it?
“That’s our girl,” Keefe said quietly as Sophie snatched the green pill and gulped it down before she could change her mind. “Knew she was going to Foster it.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
FIRST THE WORLD TURNED ITCHY.
Every nerve raw and tingling as a million buzzing things sprang to life under Sophie’s skin, and she wanted to thrash and claw and scrape until they could scurry free and skulk away.
But she was pinned.
Trapped.
And then came the pain.
Time stopped as lightning fl
ashed through her veins, and her blood caught fire, and a million needles and nails and spikes drilled into her brain.
And her heart…
Something was squeezing.
Crushing.
Closing off everything.
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t function.
Everything was stopping, stopping, stopping as her insides twisted and writhed.
Resisting.
Rejecting.
Her body wanted to heave—wanted to purge—but something cold coursed through her, numbing and soothing and sweetening the sour enough to quell the urge.
She wished it could ease the other pain, which was swelling with every strangled breath, hammering with every stalled heartbeat, tearing with every prickle and squeeze.
But the agony raged on—harder and harder and harder until something tore open inside her.
A new wound she knew would never heal.
And the darkness she’d been carrying—hiding—crawled inside.
Nestled deep.
Made itself at home.
It wasn’t a monster anymore.
It was part of her.
And with that thought a scream ripped out of her—guttural and primal.
Drowning out the other noises—other voices.
Distant sounds on the edge of everything that were too far away to actually be something.
People calling her name.
Offering promises and pleas.
None of them mattered.
Nothing could reach her.
Even the lulling melodies that slipped under her skin.
Her brain was too busy telling her, Retreat, retreat, retreat.
And her heart…
That still wasn’t working.
And then, something soft and feathery slipped through.
A cool green breeze.
Floating and fluttering through her mind.
Swirling around her heart.
Keeping everything steady, steady, steady.
Despite the pain.
And the panic.
And the punishment her body was enduring.
Even the darkness turned sleepy.
Tucking itself away.
Hiding for later.
And Sophie kept drifting, drifting, drifting—letting the verdant wisps of energy hold her solidly in place, even though everything was fading, fading, fading.
Slipping so very far away.
Too far, maybe?
She—
Brutal, stabbing agony knocked her back to reality, and she felt herself cry out again as the world grew louder and louder.
Colder and crueler.
But there was also warmth.
And strength.
And air.
Blissful, beautiful air.
And with each glorious breath, time ticked slowly back to life.
Steady as a pulse.
Following a powerful new rhythm.
The voices were closer now—some shouts, some whispers. All saying the same thing.
Sleep now, Sophie.
Don’t fight.
Give in. Give in. Give in.
Sweetness coated her tongue as another green breeze drifted in, and she let her consciousness follow it to a sweet, soft, soothing oblivion.
* * *
Awareness returned in stages.
Pain first.
Then nightmares.
And finally, a hazy fragmented reality where Sophie couldn’t fully tell how much her blurry eyes were seeing and how much was still in her head.
“Where am I?” she asked, the words sticky and garbled and so much more exhausting than they should’ve been.
“In your room.”
A smudgy form leaned over her, and it took Sophie’s brain a second to morph the colors into the shape that matched the voice. “Mom?”
“Yes,” Edaline whispered, leaning in to kiss Sophie’s cheek.
Sophie blinked hard, willing her vision back into focus as Edaline pulled away, so she could study Edaline’s expression.
“Wow, was it that bad?” Sophie asked, hating how swollen and shadowed and red Edaline’s eyes looked.
“I’m sure it was far worse for you than it’s been for us.” Edaline swiped at the sweaty hair on Sophie’s forehead, but it seemed to be plastered there. “How much do you remember?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “It’s sort of surreal as it’s happening, so it’s hard for me to connect it to anything physical, if that makes sense. Plus, my head’s still really foggy.”
Edaline nodded. “That’s probably from the sedative.”
“Sedative?” Sophie wanted to jolt out of bed in protest, but it felt like she had a woolly mammoth standing on her chest—and like maybe that mammoth had trampled her before it settled down, because she ached in every bone and muscle and nerve. “Last time I couldn’t take sedativ—”
“Last time was different,” Edaline interrupted. And there was a noticeable crack in her voice as she added, “Or so I hear, since I wasn’t there. But last time they didn’t have to do chest compressions until your heart started beating again.”
“Chest compressions?” Sophie knew she needed to stop repeating things, but… chest compressions didn’t sync with her scattered memories.
They did match the pain in her ribs, though.
“I don’t remember that,” Sophie admitted.
“Well… I guess that’s good.”
Something in Edaline’s tone made Sophie wonder if Edaline wished she could’ve forgotten that particular moment too.
But Sophie had other questions—better questions. Most important: “Did it work?”
Edaline sighed. “They think so. But we won’t know for sure until you inflict—and you need to get your strength back before we can try that. Which might be a slow process. Not as slow as it was with the echoes, I promise. It’s just that Elwin and Livvy don’t think we should give you any elixirs right now. That’s why you’re not on any pain medicine.”
“Then why did they give me a sedative?” Sophie wondered.
“They only gave you a fraction of a dose to keep your pulse steady while the last of the limbium worked its way out of your system,” Edaline explained. “They were afraid your pulse might stop again, otherwise. But if they needed proof that your body can’t handle anything extra right now, the fact that you ended up knocked out for three days seems pretty telling.”
“Three days?” Sophie wanted to throw off her covers and leap out of bed—but the woolly mammoth weighing her down was having none of it. “How could I lose that much time?”
“It’s called almost dying,” Edaline said gently.
“Actually, it’s called ‘Fostering’ now,” Keefe corrected—and it took Sophie a second to find him smirking at her from her desk, where his notebooks and art supplies were scattered all around Iggy’s cage.
Keefe’s hair looked as rumpled as his clothes, and Sophie wondered how many hours he’d been there.
Or how many days.
“I swear I haven’t been, like, creepily watching you sleep or anything,” he promised, probably misunderstanding her mood shift. “Elwin and Livvy had to rework some of the treatments they’re planning for you, and they didn’t want to leave you alone—but they also didn’t want to set up an alchemy lab in here. So everyone started fighting over who would keep an eye on you—because everyone wanted to, not because they didn’t,” he clarified. “And Fitz definitely did, in case you were wondering, or worrying, or… he’s been here a lot, okay? The only reason he’s gone right now is because he’d promised my dad that they’d work through more memories, and you know how my dad is—he gets his way no matter what. And Dex, Biana, Stina, and Wylie have been around a bunch too, but they had some Go Team Awesome! stuff that the Council needed them to do with Grady today. And Flori and Sandor are reorganizing the security now that Nubiti’s gone. And Edaline’s here now, but she also has all the animal
s to care for. Meanwhile, I basically have nothing to do, thanks to Tammy Boy’s warning—not that I wouldn’t be here even if I did have stuff… I just… we figured you wouldn’t want someone sitting here when they could be off investigating things—and I can draw anywhere so… it seemed like the most logical solution, you know?”
“Smoooooooooooooth, Hunkyhair,” Ro told him. “Really, really smoooooooooth.”
It sounded like Ro was inside of Sophie’s closet, but Sophie wasn’t propped up enough to be able to tell for certain—and if she was right, Sophie could only imagine what kinds of chaos the ogre princess might cause in there.
She sorta hoped it included shredding some of her ridiculously frilly gowns.
“So you’ve been here for three days?” Sophie asked, glancing from Keefe to Edaline, both of whom nodded—though Keefe looked way more fidgety about it.
“We left once,” Ro admitted, “but only because I made Hunkyhair shower and change—and you’re welcome, by the way. I swear the stench radiating off of him was making the flowers in your carpet wither.”
“It was not!” Keefe argued. And Sophie had never seen him turn quite so red. “It also wasn’t my fault,” he mumbled. “Elwin and Livvy made it super hot in here because it was supposed to be good for your healing or whatever. So of course I got all gross and sweaty.”
“We all did,” Edaline added, trying and failing to wipe away the hair shellacked to Sophie’s forehead again—which made Sophie realize she probably didn’t want to know what she looked like in that moment.
Or what she smelled like…
“That doesn’t change the fact that no one could go near Hunkyhair without coughing!” Ro called from the closet.
Keefe gritted his teeth, and Sophie had to laugh—and then whimper as the pain punished her for daring to use her chest muscles.
“I’m fine,” she promised, but Edaline was already on her feet heading for the door.
“I need to let Elwin and Livvy know you’re awake so they can check on you,” Edaline called over her shoulder. “Try not to move too much in the meantime, okay?”
Sophie nodded.
But she still had to try to sit up—and then regretted it when prickles shot up her arms and down her legs.
Keefe snorted as he rushed over to help. “You listen almost as well as I do, you know that, Foster? Here.”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 42
