Neverseen (27 page)

Fitz sighed, and winced from the sigh. “Can I at least practice Telepathy?”

“You might be up to it in a few days,” she told him. “But I doubt it. You
need
to rest. You came pretty close to dying.”

“I knew it,” Dex mumbled from the corner. Sophie hadn’t seen him this miserable since the Council had forced him to adjust her ability-restricting circlet. “Can I . . . um . . . talk to you for a sec?” he asked Fitz. “Alone?”

“Uh . . . sure,” Fitz said slowly.

“Come on,” Della said, herding everyone out. “Physic should check us, too.”

“Indeed I should,” Physic agreed.

“But we’re going to stand close enough so we can eavesdrop, right?” Keefe asked.

Fitz flung a pillow and smacked Keefe in the head—then yelped, clutching his shoulder.

“Don’t make me restrain you!” Physic warned him. “And don’t you dare fling that pillow back!” she told Keefe as he lined up his aim.

Sophie was the last to leave the room, trying to guess why Dex wouldn’t look at her. Her theories evaporated when she
entered the main room and found Mr. Forkle and Calla whispering.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Probably nothing,” Calla said, but the strain in her voice was too noticeable.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “I was unable to find Lur, Mitya, or Sior. I’m sending Calla to make a more thorough search.”

“Won’t she be exposed to the plague?” Sophie asked.

“I won’t surface unless the roots assure me it is safe,” Calla promised.

Keefe’s eyes darkened. “If anything happened to them because they were searching for my mother—”

“The two would have nothing to do with each other,” Calla promised.

When Keefe started to argue, Calla made her way to his side. Sophie couldn’t hear what Calla whispered to him, but his whole expression softened.

“I’ll be home soon,” Calla said, nodding to Sophie. “Try not to worry.”

“Here,” Physic said when Calla was gone. She handed Sophie a small green vial. “This will help you destress.”

Sophie sniffed the elixir. “This doesn’t have limbium in it, right?”

“Nope—I learned my lesson last time.”

“Last time?”

Physic adjusted her mask. “Oh, you know. The time we healed your abilities. I was consulted on the cure. Looks like we missed a spot with that scar on your hand.”

The story made sense, and Sophie would’ve accepted it—if Physic weren’t studiously avoiding her eyes.

Did that mean Physic was there for her
other
allergic reaction? The one the Black Swan had erased from her memory?

I know what you’re thinking,
Mr. Forkle transmitted.
And not because I’m invading your privacy. So in the interests of our newfound honesty . . . yes. Your theory is correct. And that is all I will say.

Thank you,
Sophie transmitted back. He wasn’t giving her all the answers she wanted. But she could live with this compromise.

Further discussion was interrupted by Dex shuffling past. He headed straight for his room, but Sophie wouldn’t let him escape that easily. She caught him before he closed his door.

The floor of his room was strewn with gadgets and tools and things that could only be described as “doodads.” Dex kicked some aside to clear a path, mumbling, “You don’t have to check on me.”

“I know I don’t
have
to. I
want
to. Besides, how many times have you checked on me?”

“Yeah, but this is different.” He picked up what looked like a dismantled melder and started tweaking the wires.

“So what did you and Fitz talk about?” she asked.

Dex added a new gear to his contraption. “I told him I’m sorry.”

“What happened today wasn’t your fault, Dex.”

“It kinda was. But that isn’t why I’m sorry.” He added another wire to the gadget and it whirred to life, playing a tinkling musical sound. He let the notes play until the song came to an end. “I told him I’m sorry for hating him so much.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “That must’ve been awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“So . . . what did he say?”

“He wanted to know
why
.”

“Why
do
you hate him?”

“You can’t guess?”

She had one theory—but it would start a conversation she didn’t know how to finish. Plus, Dex had made it clear he was not a member of the Vacker fan club from her very first day at Foxfire, when Fitz didn’t remember Dex’s name.

“I know he wasn’t always nice to you,” she tried.

“He used to ignore me. And he’s just so
perfect
.” Dex sighed, pulling apart his new gadget and dropping the bits to the floor. “But . . . he’s not a bad guy. And he saved us today.”

It was the nicest thing Dex had ever said about Fitz, and Sophie could tell part of him only begrudgingly admitted it.

“So what did Fitz say?” she asked.

“He said we should be friends. And I said I’d
try
. And then he looked like he wanted to hug it out, so I bolted out of there.”

Sophie laughed. “Wow, you and Fitz—BFFs! That’ll be new.”

“He’s
not
my best friend. That spot’s already taken.”

“It is?” Sophie asked.

“Duh. Did you really think it changed?”

“I don’t know. So many things are changing.”

“I know,” he agreed quietly. “But that one won’t. Ever.”

She felt her lips stretch into the biggest smile she’d had in a long time. “Same. You know that, right? Best friends no matter what.”

“Does that mean we’re supposed to hug it out?” he asked.

“I . . . guess we could.” After the day they’d had, a hug sounded pretty good.

Dex looked a little nervous as he curled his arms around her shoulders. But it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like coming home.

“I’m always here,” he whispered.

“Me too.” She knew she should probably let go, but she stayed a little longer.

They pulled apart when Keefe shouted, “YOU GUYS HAVE TO SEE THIS!”

They ran to the main room and found Keefe standing under the skylight, holding up Mr. Snuggles like it was a baby lion about to be made king. The sparkly red dragon twinkled almost as much as Keefe’s eyes as he said, “I went in to check on our boy and found him cuddling with
this
!”

“Isn’t that the same dragon Fitz brought to your house that one time?” Dex asked Sophie.

“WHAT?” Keefe shouted. “YOU KNEW AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!”

“Mr. Snuggles wasn’t my secret to share,” Sophie said.

“IT’S NAME IS MR. SNUGGLES?! That is . . . . I can’t even . . .” Keefe ran back to Fitz’s room shouting, “ARE YOU MISSING YOUR SNUGGLE BUDDY?!”

“Fitz is going to die of embarrassment, you know that, right?” Biana asked.

“I didn’t know he had a stuffed dragon,” Della said. “I wonder where he got it.”

“Elwin gave it to him when Alden was sick,” Sophie explained. “And Elwin named him.”

“Wow, you really know my brother super well, don’t you?” Biana asked.

Sophie’s cheeks flushed. “Well . . . we have to do a lot of trust exercises.”

Dex sighed.

Down the hall, Sophie could hear Keefe laughing hysterically.

“I better make sure Fitz is still talking to me,” she said.

“You should be worried about
me
,” Keefe told her, stalking back into the room. “You deprived me of the Snuggles—that cannot be forgiven! Actually it can, but you have to convince Fitz to call himself Lord of the Snuggles from now on.”

Sophie laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Fitz’s door was closed, so she knocked before going in.

“I told you, Mr. Snuggles’s visiting hours are over,” he called through the door.

“What about
your
visiting hours?” she asked.

“Oh! I thought you were Keefe.”

Sophie pushed open the door. “I get that a lot.”

“YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY!” Keefe shouted from the main room.

Fitz had Mr. Snuggles perched on his lap, and the sparkly dragon looked almost defiant. Like,
Yeah, I’m cute and glittery—what’s it to you?

“So . . . I guess the secret’s out,” she said.

“Looks like it. You’d think almost dying would earn me a little slack.”

“NOT WHEN YOU’RE CUDDLING WITH A GLITTERY DRAGON, DUDE!” Keefe shouted.

Fitz smiled.

“So you’re not mad?” Sophie asked.

“Nah. It’s good to see Keefe acting normal again.”

“It is,” Sophie agreed, hoping it would last. “But what about you? How are you feeling?”

Fitz shrugged, then winced again, which made it a little hard to believe his “Fine.”

“I’m mostly embarrassed,” he promised. “I mean, who gets impaled by a giant bug? And I’m feeling guilty for all the times I’ve teased you about almost dying. It’s not a lot of fun.”

“It really isn’t.” Sophie sat on the edge of his bed. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Sophie sighed, knowing it was a deal neither of them could honestly make.

He yawned, and she patted Mr. Snuggles on the head as she stood to leave.

Fitz mumbled something, the words too sleepy to be coherent. But Sophie could’ve sworn he’d said, “Miss you.”

“How is he?” Mr. Forkle asked as she entered the hallway.

She shrugged. “Resting.”

“You should do the same. We have an early morning tomorrow. You’re coming with us to make the exchange for Prentice. And then we’ll start the process of learning what he’s hiding.”

T
HE LAST TIME
Sophie had stood outside the glowing castle in Lumenaria, she’d been with Fitz, learning that the world was not at all what she’d thought it was.

Somehow, it didn’t feel any less surreal to be standing in the cold ocean breeze again, waiting for the Council to deliver Prentice.

All five members of the Collective waited at her side, along with four dwarven guards, each holding one corner of the cot Gethen had been bound to. He seemed as lifeless as before, and Sophie wondered if he realized he was being moved, or if he’d retreated so far into his mind he’d lost connection with his body.

Squall checked the sun, which had risen well beyond the horizon. “The Council’s late. I don’t like leaving Gethen in the open.”

“I thought the Neverseen can’t track him now,” Sophie said, looking anywhere but at Gethen’s hands.

“It bothers you that we removed his nails,” Mr. Forkle said.

“Well, you did torture him,” she mumbled.

“Is
that
what you think?” Granite asked.

“The process was painless,” Squall promised.

“I only said otherwise to frighten him,” Mr. Forkle added. “It does raise an interesting question, though, doesn’t it? How far are we willing to go in this fight? For instance, would you have been willing to hand your cache over to the dwarves or goblins if the Council had called your bluff?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said—but that was a lie.

You would’ve done it,
Mr. Forkle transmitted.

Is that bad?

Quite the opposite. It’s a sign that you’re close to being ready.

Sophie knew better than to ask,
Ready for what?

“Where are the gnomes under quarantine?” she asked instead.

She’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the treatment area, but all she could see was the solid stone and metal of the castle’s walls and gates.

“There’s a small grove behind the inner tower,” Mr. Forkle said. “I hear they’re being contained there.”

“You haven’t seen them?” Sophie asked.

“Only physicians are allowed to enter, and they haven’t been allowed to share any details.”

The castle bell ended their conversation, followed by the echo of heavy footsteps. When the gates creaked open, ten goblins stood arm in arm to block them from entering.

Sophie searched for Sandor among them, knowing it was a vain hope. She found only strangers, and none who looked friendly enough to ask if they’d heard any news about her recovering bodyguard.

Behind them, the Four Seasons Tree stood proudly on a small patch of grass. As Sophie studied its colorful branches, Bronte and Emery leaped into the courtyard.

“Where’s Prentice?” Mr. Forkle demanded.

“On his way,” Councillor Emery promised. “He didn’t respond to the sedatives Terik gave him for transport, so we sent Alina to calm him.”

“Alina is a Beguiler,” Granite explained to Sophie. “Her voice can be irresistibly soothing.”

“Then why is she always so awful?” Sophie had to ask.

Bronte’s lips twitched with a smile, and even Emery sounded mildly amused as he told her, “Much like Telepaths, Beguilers have restrictions for when they can use their power.”

“Without those restrictions, Alina would surely be a Vacker,” Granite added.

Sophie felt her jaw drop. “She’s that powerful?”

“It’s why we elected her to our ranks,” Emery agreed. “In these troubling times we may very well need the power of persuasion.”

His tone wasn’t threatening—but the words still felt that way.

“I take it this is our prisoner?” Bronte asked. “I see he had no issue with the drugs.”

“You will find him much the same when the sedatives wear off,” Mr. Forkle told him. “He’s using some sort of telepathy trick to keep his consciousness hidden.”

“I’ve never heard of such a skill,” Emery said.

“Neither had we,” Granite agreed. “But we’re growing used to finding ourselves in unfamiliar territory.” He motioned to the goblins standing at the ready. “You honestly thought this was necessary?”

“You
are
fugitives,” Emery said. “And this area is under quarantine.”

“It is indeed,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Any progress on the cure?”

“All work is progress,” Emery said.

“Which is political-speak for ‘no’?” Granite pressed.

Bronte cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, it means we have little news to report.”

Sophie wished she could ask about the drakostomes, but it would be too risky. The Council had gone to great lengths to
keep their existence hidden, and she couldn’t risk hindering the exchange for Prentice.