“That’s it!” Ro picked him up, hefting him over her shoulder and trudging toward the door. “We’ll be back after study hall.”
“You’ll be back tomorrow,” Magnate Leto corrected. “Lord Cassius is expecting you both to be home immediately after school—and I wouldn’t recommend disobeying.”
“Why not?” Sophie asked.
“He was in . . . a mood.”
“Goody! Raise your hand if you’re jealous of my life!” Keefe said, twisting in Ro’s grasp to survey the room. “No takers?”
“Don’t worry,” Ro told him, patting his back as she carried him into the hall. “I’ll sneak your dad some amoebas tonight.”
“I guess I’d better make up a batch of my strongest stomach remedy,” Elwin said as the Healing Center’s doors slammed shut behind them.
“Are you sure it’s safe to let Keefe go home?” Sophie asked Magnate Leto.
“Of course. Lord Cassius and I have had many lengthy discussions recently about ways to properly motivate his son. He sounded desperate enough to actually try some of them.”
“Then why do you look so worried?” She pointed to his forehead, where deep creases were pressed into his skin.
“I’m not worried. I’m . . . vacillating.”
“On what?”
“On how to advise you on an unexpected development.”
“Is it with my brother?” Fitz asked, sitting up straighter.
“No. As far as I know, there’s been no news in that regard.” He moved to pace, his steps heavier than they should be—as if his body was used to bearing the extra weight he carried when he was Mr. Forkle. “First, I want you to promise me that you will not make this decision hastily. In fact, I don’t want to hear any sort of answer until tomorrow—at minimum. Take the night to think about it, regardless of whether or not you feel you’ve made up your minds—and make sure you’re being very honest with yourselves about your limitations.”
He waited for them to agree, giving Sophie a chance to come up with a long list of theories.
But she definitely did not expect him to say, “Fintan has demanded a meeting.”
EIGHTEEN
WITH BOTH OF US?” FITZ asked, his brain processing the news way faster than Sophie’s.
She was too stuck on the irony.
After weeks of her begging for a meeting, Fintan was dropping one in her lap right when she’d decided that talking to him would waste time and mess with her head—not to mention the fact that she was currently stuck on bed rest.
“Yes,” Magnate Leto told him. “In fact, he requested each of you by name. He also asked that you come alone—but that won’t happen. Given the attack, and the possibility that the Neverseen still have a means of tracking you, there’s no way you’re going anywhere near Fintan without your bodyguards. The Council is hoping that Sandor would be willing to exclude the other members of your security detail to keep things simpler. But we’ll figure that out if you decide to commit to the meeting.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Fitz asked, glancing at Sophie.
But her mind was focused on a different question: “Why now?”
“That was my first thought as well,” Magnate Leto told her. “And sadly, the answer is: We don’t know.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the attack?” she wondered.
“I asked the Council the same thing. Apparently he’s made no mention of it. And, I’m honestly not sure how he would know. His only contact is with his guards—and none of them have been told that the attack occurred.”
“Unless the Neverseen planned the attack before Fintan was arrested,” Sophie reminded him.
If they really had targeted her and Fitz because of their telepathy, the Neverseen could’ve been planning the assault from the moment they put Alvar in that cell.
“I could totally see them doing that,” Fitz agreed.
“So could I,” Elwin added. “Sorry, should I not have been listening?”
“If I didn’t want you to hear us, I would’ve asked you to leave,” Magnate Leto assured him. “You’ve already proven yourself more than trustworthy with my secrets.”
Elwin grinned. “So many things make sense now.”
“Wait—does that mean Elwin knows . . . ?” Sophie asked, stopping there in case she was wrong.
But Magnate Leto nodded. “Given my need to remain in this form while you’re here, I decided it was time to clue him in to one of the other roles I play.”
“There’s more than one?” Elwin asked. “How do you keep it all straight?”
“Not as well as I used to.” The catch in his voice broke Sophie’s heart.
She wanted to ask how he was handling all the challenges and grief that came with losing his twin. But it sounded like Elwin didn’t know that detail. And honestly, that was the kind of question that had no real answer.
“But getting back to what we were discussing,” Magnate Leto said, clearing the thickness from his throat. “I think it’s important to remember that while the attack feels fresh to us because of your current condition, it has also been more than two weeks since it happened. So there may be no connection. Fintan could simply be growing tired of his confinement and hoping to strike a new bargain.”
Fitz’s eyes narrowed. “Or he’s done the math. He knows how long it’s been since he gave the Council the antidote to soporidine, and I’m sure he figured we’d give some to my brother. He also knows how long it takes the Council to sentence someone—and I bet he could guess that Alvar would be sent back to Everglen. So this meeting could be the next step in whatever they’re planning with my brother.”
“Also a viable theory,” Magnate Leto admitted. “But the Council said he hasn’t asked his guard about Alvar even once.”
“All that means is, he’s good at keeping his secrets,” Fitz argued.
“We could keep guessing like this all day,” Sophie said quietly. “The only way to know what Fintan actually wants is to talk to him.”
“Yes,” Magnate Leto agreed. “But the question you must ask yourself is: Do you care what he has to say? I know you’ve now begun to question whether this kind of meeting will offer any actual value—and I think that’s an important instinct. That’s why I want you to take the night and think about this before you make your decision.”
“Sounds like you don’t think we should do it,” Sophie noted.
“I’m of two minds on the matter. The security where he’s being kept is incredibly effective, so there’s little physical risk. But Fintan has a gift for games—and both of you are especially vulnerable, given your past experiences with him, and the toll emotion and nightmares take on the two of you at the moment.”
Sophie hated that word.
Vulnerable.
Even if it was true.
“There’s still a chance we could learn something important,” Fitz argued.
“There is,” Magnate Leto agreed. “And that is why I’m of two minds. As were your families when I spoke to them.”
“Our parents know?” Sophie was surprised Grady hadn’t rushed over and ordered her to stay away from Fintan—or demanded to go with her if she did meet with him.
He must still be away on assignment.
“I hailed them before I came to speak to you,” Magnate Leto explained. “Not for their permission, since I believe you’ve earned the right to make this choice without restrictions—but out of respect for the fact that they deserve to know what’s going on with their children. And you should know that both of your families are willing to support whatever you choose—provided that you keep them informed and promise not to fight any efforts for your security if you decide to agree to the meeting. The Council has told me essentially the same thing. So this truly comes down to you—though there is also the matter of your recovery to consider.”
“I was just going to say,” Elwin jumped in, “they won’t be physically ready for something like this for at least a couple of weeks.”
�
��I assumed as much,” Magnate Leto added. “So take your time. Remember that your primary focus still needs to be on your recovery. And make sure you finish taking your medicine.”
He pointed to their trays, which still had way more vials than Sophie’s stomach wanted.
“And just to be incredibly clear,” he added, “in case Mr. Sencen manages to sneak back in later—please don’t attempt to recover his memories until you speak to Sir Tiergan.”
Didn’t you say you wanted to weigh in too? Sophie transmitted as he headed for the door.
I do. But my advice is rather brief, since Tiergan will cover all of the specifics. I simply want to make sure that you realize the dynamic between you, Mr. Vacker, and Mr. Sencen is . . . complicated.
What does that mean?
That’s up to you to figure out.
“Why did he wink at you before he left?” Fitz asked as soon as Magnate Leto was gone.
“Because adults are annoying,” Sophie mumbled, focusing on choking down the rest of her medicine.
Fitz still helped her with the vials, but there was a new kind of silence between them—not an awkward quiet so much as a heavy thoughtfulness.
A mental standoff, as they each waited for the other to plunge into the murky waters of the Fintan conversation.
Fitz dived in first. “So . . . do you really think we should pass on the meeting?”
“I don’t know. If we agree to it, we’re basically telling him he can still boss us around. And the thought of listening to another one of his speeches?” She shoved her empty vials away a little harder than she needed to, enjoying the satisfying clatter. “Plus, he’s not going to tell us anything until we agree to do something for him.”
“What do you think he’ll want?”
“No idea. He’s a prisoner, so the obvious ask would be for freedom—but he has to know we’re not powerful enough to make that happen.”
“So maybe he’s after information,” Fitz suggested.
“Then why ask for us? Why not demand to meet with the Council? Or someone in the Black Swan? Especially since he’s made such a point to keep Telepaths away—why demand to meet with two Cognates?”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. Unless . . .”
He sat up straighter, setting his own empty tray aside. “Do you think it’s because we’re the ones who healed him? He interrupted you last time so he could escape—what if that left a little bit of damage? Or maybe all the creepy stuff he’s done has gotten to him and he wants us to seal some cracks.”
“If it is,” Sophie whispered, closing her eyes and trying to smother any bad memories before they could wake the monster, “then going to meet with him would be pointless. I’m never healing him again. Not after what he did to Kenric.”
“You don’t think it’d be worth it for the chance to poke around his head? We’re stronger now—”
“Not strong enough, Fitz. Look at how badly we lost to Gethen—and that was before we had echoes to deal with.”
“We’d have a few weeks to train,” Fitz countered. “And I know we can’t do full-on trust exercises. But . . . that doesn’t mean we can’t work on our connection. There are shades of trust, you know? Maybe we can’t get into any bigger secrets right now, but . . . we could dig into some of the small stuff we hold back.”
“Like what?”
He stared at his hands, twisting the Cognate rings round and round before he transmitted, Like all the stuff you tell Keefe and don’t tell me.
She reached for Ella, deciding it was easier to continue this conversation with her face mostly hidden behind blue floppy ears. I don’t—
Yes, you do.
The words didn’t sound angry, but he still took a long, slow breath, like he was fighting to keep his emotions under control when he added, You both tell each other stuff you don’t tell anybody else. It’s, like . . . a thing.
A thing, Sophie repeated—hearing Magnate Leto’s voice in her head.
Complicated, he’d said.
But it wasn’t complicated.
I tell Keefe that stuff because it’s been the only way to get him to open up to me, she explained. He’s super secretive.
He’s not the only one.
The accusation was impossible to miss. But . . . he wasn’t wrong.
I’ve had to keep secrets my whole life, she reminded him. It’s a hard habit to break.
I get that. But if you can tell Keefe, why can’t you tell me?
I never said I can’t, she argued.
Maybe not. But you don’t.
Sophie sighed. I really don’t tell him as much as you’re thinking I do.
Uh, I can think of a bunch of stuff that he knows.
Like what? she found herself asking again—and regretted it long before he said, He knows about the bracelets Dex gave you.
She reached up, tugging on an itchy eyelash. That’s . . . different Keefe guessed most of the story on his own, and I couldn’t deny it because Empaths are annoyingly impossible to lie to.
Telepaths are supposed to be the same way. Especially your Cognate.
But I’m not lying to you. I’m just . . . trying to keep my promise to Dex. He didn’t want me telling anyone what happened.
So if I guessed, you’d tell me?
I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to betray Dex after he saved our lives.
True, he thought, fidgeting with his Cognate rings again, sliding them halfway off and then shoving them back down. I guess you’re right. I just . . . hate that it’s a secret between us—and not because I want the gossip. It damages our connection, you know? And especially now, with all the limits we’re trying to work around, thanks to the echoes, it’s just . . . a drag that there has to be one more thing.
She wanted him to be wrong.
Wanted to argue that it shouldn’t—didn’t—matter.
But like he’d said, there were shades of trust—and her Cognate should probably hold all the brightest, clearest spaces.
So she squeezed Ella tighter, trying to find some sort of line she could walk between all of her loyalties.
What if, she thought slowly, I told you I’m pretty sure you already guessed most of what happened? Would that be enough?
It . . . might be.
His mind blinked to an image: two periwinkle cloth bracelets stitched with the words Sophie Foster + Dex Dizznee.
He’d guessed the color wrong, but . . .
Yeah.
The thought was softer than a whisper, but the way Fitz sucked in a breath made it clear he’d heard her—and she didn’t dare glance over to see whatever expression was on his face.
Instead, she forced herself to add, The fact that I’m not wearing them should tell you the rest.
She could almost hear the pieces click into place.
Okay, he transmitted slowly, I have one more question, and then I swear I’ll drop it forever.
Forever? Sophie verified, really, really, really, really hoping the question wouldn’t have anything to do with kissing.
Forever, he agreed, his mind shuffling through hundreds of words she couldn’t catch until he settled on, So, the reason you’re not wearing the cuffs—is that because they’re a matchmaking thing and you’re still deciding if you’re okay with that? Or is it . . . a different reason?
Gah, that was almost worse than the kissing question.
But she’d promised to answer, so she closed her eyes and transmitted, Dex is awesome, but . . . he’s just a friend. And I think he actually agreed with me about that by the time we were done with everything. It was still messy for a while, but it seems like we’re past that now—so PLEASE don’t tell him you know. It’d make everything awkward again and—
I won’t, he promised. You can trust me.
I know. I DO trust you, Fitz. It’s just . . . this kind of stuff is so extra complicated, you know?
It is, he agreed. I’m pretty sure that’s why the Council came up with matchmaking.
She snorted a lau
gh. Right, because matchmaking’s not complicated at all. It’s not super messy having strangers give you a list of people you’re allowed to marry. Nope.
Fitz looked away. Sounds like you’re leaning toward not registering. . . .
I’m not leaning toward anything, she promised. I seriously have no idea what to do.
She couldn’t deny that a small part of her desperately wanted to find out who would end up on her match lists—the same part that had a feeling the Winnowing Galas would be . . . kind of amazing. She was sure they’d be awkward and embarrassing, too, but . . . it’d be like going to prom—only a million times prettier and cooler and fancier because that’s how the elves rolled.
But at the same time, the whole matchmaking process sounded so . . . unnatural.
She understood why the elves had created the system, given that their indefinite life span and ageless appearance made the chance of distant relatives accidentally ending up together a really gross possibility. And they were also trying to match people on a genetic level, so that their kids would have the best shot at manifesting powerful abilities, and so the elvin gene pool would be as strong and diverse as possible.
But none of that was very romantic, and she really didn’t like the idea of having that part of her life controlled. And sometimes the process was super unfair. Dex and his siblings had been looked down on their whole lives because their dad was Talentless, and that made him a bad match. And Brant had joined the Neverseen because he and Jolie were a bad match too, since pyrokinesis was forbidden.
You’re overthinking it, Fitz told her, and her heart jumped into her throat as she realized he’d probably overheard that entire mental monologue. But I get it—it’s a big decision.
It IS, Sophie agreed. I’m super glad I’m only a Level Four and have another year before I have to deal with it.
Yeah . . .
What? she asked, because it hadn’t been an “I’m agreeing with you” kind of “yeah.”
It was the kind of “yeah” that usually got followed with something like “So, funny story . . .”
It’s nothing, Fitz told her.
But it was definitely something. Weren’t you the one who was just getting on me for holding little things back?
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 24
