“Wow, look at you with the fancy logic!” Keefe teased, but Sophie could barely hear him as Silveny tried out the name in her mind.
Luna. Luna! LUNA!
“Huh,” Sophie said, “I think she likes it.”
“Yeah, I think she does,” Keefe agreed, petting Silveny’s nose again. “And this means we can still have a little Keefster!”
Silveny gave him some major alicorn side-eye.
“Fine. No Keefster—though you’re missing out.” He went back to thinking. “What about Wynn? Because we all know the little guy is going to be made of win!”
“I actually like Wynn,” Sophie admitted, glancing at Silveny as she turned the name over in her mind.
Wynn. Wynn! WYNN!
Keefe smirked. “Feels like it’s Wynn for the win!”
“Wynn and Luna,” Sophie said. “I like it.”
So did Silveny and Greyfell, who kept repeating both names over and over as Greyfell settled next to Silveny for more alicorn snuggling. And Sophie shot Keefe a grateful smile as they made their way out of the pasture.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “You really got Silveny out of her funk.”
“That’s what I’m here for. To de-funk all the . . . You know what? I’m actually not sure where I’m going with that sentence.”
Sophie wasn’t either—which wasn’t like him. His jokes were always so instant and effortless. And there was a strange, twitchy energy to the way he was moving, like someone who’d guzzled way too much caffeine.
Or someone who was nervous.
“So how did you know the alicorns were here?” she asked, leading him to the shade of Calla’s Panakes tree.
Keefe didn’t sit down beside her. Instead he stayed standing, kicking up fallen petals and shifting his weight from leg to leg. “Oh. I stopped by Everglen this morning. Figured it was time to be a good best friend and see how Fitzy was holding up, you know? And, um . . . he filled me in on . . . everything.”
“Oh really?” Sophie asked, internally cringing at what those little pauses probably meant.
The one thing she and Fitz had forgotten to discuss was how much they were going to tell anyone about . . . whatever it was that was going on with them—not that it mattered with Keefe.
Empaths.
“And there’s the mood shift,” Keefe said quietly.
Sophie bit her lip, deciding denial was the only way to survive this. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He reached up, tearing a hand through his hair. “Okay. I know you don’t want to do this—and trust me, it’s the last thing I want to do. But . . . Fitz is my best friend. And you’re . . . you. And no matter what . . . I don’t want to ruin that. So . . . I figured you should know that I know, okay? I know something’s changed.”
Sophie took a steadying breath. “I don’t—”
“Come on, Foster,” Keefe interrupted with a sigh. “You know you can’t lie to me. So yeah, maybe nothing’s changed officially since I’m pretty sure Fitz would’ve bragged about it endlessly. But I can feel it. Right here.” He pressed his hand against his heart. And for a second his features got all pinched and strained. “So I just wanted to say: You don’t have to act like it’s a secret. Because it’s not. It never really has been, honestly. I’ve been waiting for you guys to figure it out for years. I’m pretty sure our whole group has, between all the blushing and the cute little gifts and the ‘look at us, aren’t we the cutest Cognates ever?’ and the ‘let’s stare into each other’s eyes and do some trust exercises,’ and the ‘teal is my favorite color in the whole world but no one realizes why.’ ”
He’d said the last few parts with such a spot-on impression of her voice that Sophie crossed her arms and scooted away from him. “Wow. Okay. Not sure why you’re being such a jerk about it, but . . .”
Keefe dropped his gaze to the ground, kicking up lots more fallen petals. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Those were just . . . bad jokes. I don’t know why I made them.” He swiped a hand through his hair again, letting out a long, slow sigh. “What I’m trying to say is . . . I knew this was coming. So . . . congrats! And as long as you guys don’t expect me to start playing chaperone—and keep all Fitzphie smooching and snuggling far, far away—then . . . it doesn’t have to be weird, okay?”
“Really?” Ro cut in. “That’s what you want to tell her?”
“Yes,” Keefe said through gritted teeth.
Ro snorted. “Maybe I should use my dare—”
“Don’t,” Keefe snapped, turning to face her. “Even you’re not that mean.”
“Are you sure?” Bo countered.
Ro drew a dagger from her breastplate and aimed it at him. “Give me one reason to use this. I’m begging you.”
“I feel exactly the same way,” Bo told her, drawing his sword.
And with that, Flori, Tarina, and Sandor all appeared from wherever they’d been lurking among the shadows.
“Oh, relax,” Bo growled at them. “The princess and I won’t be sparring anytime soon. We have to wait for that. Though I’m still hoping she’ll change her mind, since she knows what will happen.”
“I do,” Ro agreed. “You’ll finally realize that the only reason I’ve never beaten you is because I’ve been saving my best tricks for when it counts.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I’m doing the same thing?” Bo countered. “And I’ve still beaten you every single time?”
“Ugh, would you guys just admit you’re in love with each other already?” Keefe told them. “If Fitzphie can do it, anyone can!”
Bo and Ro aimed their weapons at him—and Sophie was tempted to grab a throwing star and join in.
“Trust me, boy, if love were any part of this, it would make things very easy,” Bo snarled at him.
“Don’t,” Ro commanded.
Bo ignored her. “You want to know what’s going on between me and the princess? Ask her father—he’s the one who arranged our marriage. Performed the ceremony himself, and gave us these.”
He pointed to the tattoos on their foreheads, which actually did kinda match.
“So wait,” Sophie said, trying to process. “You guys are married.”
Ro gritted her teeth. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Uh, I’m thinking you’re Mr. and Mrs. Bo-Ro,” Keefe cut in.
Ro waved her dagger at him. “Don’t make me hurt you—and you know I’m not talking about using this blade to do it.” Keefe’s mouth snapped shut as she added, “Yes, we’re married. But it’s all just a formality. My father’s foolish plan to protect his two strongest warriors.”
“Protecting me had nothing to do with this,” Bo argued. “Dimitar came to me personally—begged me to cooperate as a personal favor. Said it was the only way he could think of to prevent his headstrong daughter from getting herself killed in the final spar.”
Ro’s eyes flashed with betrayal and hate.
“Uh . . . final spar?” Keefe asked. “I think we’re going to need a little more explanation.”
Bo’s glare had Keefe stumbling back a step. “In our world, our supreme leader isn’t chosen by birth or inheritance. They’re chosen by victory. And whenever the current ruler steps aside—or perishes—all of the top warriors who wish to take over must spar to the death. Whoever’s left standing becomes the new king or queen, thereby earning the respect of the people and eliminating all possible usurpers.”
“I suppose that’s one way to do it,” Tarina said, mostly under her breath.
“And my king knows that Romhilda can’t—”
“IT’S RO!” she shouted, whipping her dagger at his head.
Bo knocked it away with his sword—along with the next dagger. And the one after that.
“You’re proving your father’s point! He knows if we spar, I will end you. But as my wife, there’s no need for you to compete. You can be queen by my victory—and give our world the two strongest fighters as leaders.”
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“Or you can be king by my victory,” Ro countered, “which is why I agreed to the arrangement. Then you’ll still be alive to handle the army since I find soldiers annoying. And I’ll rule the people.”
“Aw, isn’t this the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” Keefe asked Sophie. “Really hits you in the feels. A love story for the ages.”
“I told you,” Bo growled. “Love has no part in this. And it’s far better that way. A king needs a clear head and unbiased judgment. Love only gets in the way. And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Ro about Cadfael?”
“Cadfael,” Sophie repeated, needing a second to place the name. “You mean the guy who’s probably the leader of all the ogres who defected to the Neverseen?”
“That would be him. Ro didn’t tell you?” Bo asked with the most vicious smile Sophie had ever seen. “He’s her ex-boyfriend.”
• • •
To say Sandor was unhappy that Ro had a personal connection to the enemy was an understatement—especially since she’d had plenty of chances to reveal that information. And no matter how many times Ro insisted that she’d have zero problem ending Cadfael’s life—and that she’d only kept their relationship secret because she knew it would distract everyone with foolish conclusions—Sandor kept right on muttering “compromised” under his breath.
“Compromised?” Ro eventually snapped. “You want to talk about compromised? What happens if you have to decide between saving your little girlfriend, or saving one of us? And you”—she pointed at Keefe—“what happens the next time you face your mom? Is there any way you’d follow an order to stand down—even if there was a good reason to do exactly that? Just like we know your Vanisher friend is desperate to get her invisible little hands on Vespera after what happened in that creepy mirrored place. And her brother will take any excuse to smash his brother’s face in, even if it ends up being the wrong call. Even you”—her eyes shifted to Sophie—“I’m betting their Shade is going to be your number one target, after all you’ve gone through with those echoes. Or maybe you’ll want the Telepath for the threats he made during the attack. Or revenge on Keefe’s mom for the mess you’ve seen in his memories. Actually, you’re a bad example, since you have good reasons to hate everybody—and you’re also always trying to save everybody, so you’re going to be a mess of conflicted decisions. My point is, the idea of ‘no biases in battle’ is a myth. We all have them. Especially when there are this many enemies.”
“Too many,” Sophie mumbled under her breath. They seriously had way too many enemies.
Sandor sighed and rubbed his forehead. “All of that may be true, but I’m sure you can still see my dilemma.”
“Fine—you want me to prove my loyalty?” Ro countered. “Let me run the next training session. I’ll teach everyone the easiest ways to cut down one of my kind.”
Bo cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Of course you don’t,” Ro snapped back. “Because you don’t actually care about this assignment. You’re just here to cause drama until I agree to give my father whatever he wants to make him reassign you. And I’m sure that’s what you’re hoping for too, so you can get out of sparkle town. But guess what, hubby? I’m done giving either of you what you want. You get to be stuck here with me until you’re ready to claw your eyes out from all the glitter. And you can watch me do everything in my power to prepare these kids for the battles coming their way, because like it or not, they are the only ones who are going to clean up this mess.”
“See, I was with you right up until you called us kids,” Keefe told her, and it was a miracle Ro didn’t launch a dagger at his head.
Instead, she straightened up and said to no one in particular, “If you’re done questioning my loyalty, and you’ve soaked up enough of my personal drama, follow me and I’ll teach you something that will save your life.”
She stalked deeper into the pastures, and Sophie and Keefe shared a look before they turned to follow her. And the rest of the afternoon was filled with learning where all of the ogres’ pressure points were. They weren’t always where Sophie would’ve expected—they were in the back of the elbow, and the underside of their nose, and between their pointer and middle fingers.
“You really won’t get in trouble for teaching us this stuff?” Sophie had to ask when Ro showed them an opening in the way the ogres swung their swords, which left a moment where their elbow was particularly vulnerable.
“Please, if an elf with a few hours of training can take us down, we deserve to die,” Ro countered. “But Cadfael won’t expect you to know it. And I want to see the look on his face when that costs him a few of his grunts.”
So she made them practice the punches and stabs and thrusts that would inflict the most pain over and over and over, until Sophie and Keefe were both sweaty and out of breath and dead on their feet.
“You should probably take a break,” Keefe said as he watched Sophie study her right hand. She’d trained mostly with her left, but her knuckles were still swollen from the day before.
“Yeah, I need to check on Silveny anyway.” She turned to head toward the alicorns’ pasture. But she’d only made it a few steps before Keefe ran to catch up with her.
“Hey, Foster?” he said, stepping in front of her to block the path. “I’m . . . really sorry about earlier. I never should’ve said the stuff I said. What I meant to say is . . . I’m really happy for you—and Fitz. You guys are perfect for each other.”
Sophie’s face burned. So did her eyes. And she couldn’t decide if the tangled emotions clawing up her throat were proof that she definitely wasn’t ready for things with Fitz to be public—or because she still couldn’t imagine people using the word “perfect” to describe the two of them together. But she told Keefe, “Thanks.”
He tore his hands through his hair again, looking like he was changing his mind about his next words several times before he said, “So . . . you don’t hate me?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you—I’m never going to hate you!”
His smile looked tired. “Well. I guess that’s good enough. For now.”
• • •
Mr. Forkle stopped by that evening, and once Grady and Edaline had gone upstairs—and Sandor had led the other bodyguards outside for patrols—Sophie decided to tell him everything.
Well, everything except the mushy Fitz stuff, because . . . no.
But she told him about the alliance she’d made with Tarina, even though she knew he’d probably be upset that she didn’t wait to find out what he learned through his research. And she told him about Luzia, because the Black Swan needed to know there’d once been a troll hive at Everglen. Plus, she wanted someone else to hear what Luzia had implied about the challenges of working with the empress.
“Do you think I made a mistake agreeing to the alliance?” she whispered when Mr. Forkle rose from his spot on the couch and paced to the windows overlooking Havenfield’s pastures.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that you made the best possible decision under the given circumstances. Which is all any of us would ever ask.”
Breathing became a little easier. But Sophie still felt the need to add, “What if the trolls want something I can’t give?”
“Well, if it helps, I haven’t found anything troubling about Empress Pernille in my research. But if Luzia turns out to be right, then you’ll make the best possible decision whenever the time comes. Life is a series of hard choices, Miss Foster. The most you can do is face them one at a time.”
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me for making the deal without checking with you?”
“Of course I’m not. If you’d delayed, I’d be staring at two devastated alicorns right now, and their babies would’ve been lost.” He stared at his swollen, wrinkled hands, twisting the thick fingers together. “The truth is, now that there’s only one of me, I’m falling further and further behind in my responsibiliti
es, and the Black Swan is suffering. We’ve been all but useless to you these last several weeks—myself especially. I still haven’t even finished arranging your meeting with Fintan—though I’m getting close. But the good news is, you’re growing more confident with each passing day. And I know I speak for the entire Collective when I say that we trust your judgment. I’m also grateful you’ve been willing to confide in me about all of this. Perhaps it’s proof that you’re ready to take on even greater responsibility in the order.”
Sophie sat up straighter. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He gazed blankly into the distance for several seconds before his focus shifted back to the pastures. “You realize as soon as Silveny’s able, she’s going to head straight to her babies. I’m sure she’s already plucked images of the tower from your mind so she’ll be ready to teleport.”
“Is that bad?”
“It depends on how high Luzia’s illusions stretch into the sky. Would you be willing to take me there to check?”
“Now?”
“Unless you’re too tired—”
“I’m fine. But I need to clear it with Sandor. If I disappear again, he might handcuff himself to my wrist.”
Mr. Forkle smiled. “I could see him doing that.”
Not surprisingly, all of her bodyguards insisted on joining them. And Grady and Edaline asked to tag along. So it turned out to be quite a large group that jumped off Havenfield’s moonlit cliffs. And Sophie was glad to have the company when she saw how eerie the tower’s clearing looked at night, with all the shifting shadows. The hive itself also felt even more alien now that the only light was coming from the glowing green fluid surrounding the tube-covered babies.
“Hey, Luna,” she whispered, wishing the tiny alicorn would blink or stir or do something to prove that she really was okay.
But Luna stayed fast asleep.
So did Wynn.
“Did I miss when you named them?” Edaline asked.
“Yeah, Keefe brought it up today—and be glad Silveny didn’t go with Keeferina and the Keefster.”
Grady sighed. “That boy.”
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 50
