“Seriously?” Sophie and Keefe both asked.
“Why?” Sandor added.
Ro shrugged. “Because I’m curious. And I enjoy meddling. It’s the only fun I get to have here in elf land, and I have a hunch that this is the kind of secret that could be a game changer.”
“It’s not,” Sophie assured her.
“Well then, I guess you’re getting the deal of the century, aren’t you? Oh, but if you lie, I’m sure Hunkyhair will call you out on it.”
“I will,” Keefe agreed.
“You realize she’s bargaining for your freedom, right?” Sophie reminded him.
“Yup! But I can’t stop her, so I might as well let her take you down with me.”
Sandor leaned closer, whispering in Sophie’s ear. “Admit it. You’re tempted to let the Neverseen have him now, aren’t you?”
A tiny, tiny part of her was.
But the larger part—the part that always had to be annoyingly practical—knew this was a way better solution than any promise she might force Keefe into making after who knew how many more hours of arguing.
And… it wasn’t like her secret would stay hidden forever.
“Do we have a deal?” Ro asked.
“You swear you’ll keep him away from the Neverseen?” Sophie clarified. “Like, you realize how impossible that’s going to be?”
“Yes, I’m familiar with your boy’s stubbornness—and his tendency to think he’s outsmarting everybody. But he’ll behave. Because he knows the consequences for breaking a bet—and I can always put him on a leash if I have to. I have the perfect harness. It chafes in some particularly unpleasant places. So what do you say?” She patted the chaise again.
Sophie closed her eyes, needing a few more seconds to remind herself that this was the best way to keep Keefe safe. Then slowly, painfully, she made her way over and sank onto the cushion. “I don’t know why you care so much about this.”
“I’m not totally sure either,” Ro admitted. “But a deal’s a deal, so spill it, girlie, and let’s hope it’s something juicy.”
“Hang on,” Keefe said, grabbing the chair from his desk and dragging it over. He plopped down right in front of Sophie, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin on his palms in the ultimate I’m listening pose. “Okay, let’s solve one of the Foster Mysteries.”
Sophie shot him a look that hopefully said I hate you so much right now. And she really hoped he was picking up on all of her vomit-churning as she closed her eyes and took a long breath.
“Anytime now,” Ro prompted.
Sophie’s hands balled into fists. “Fine. A little more than a week ago, I… went to see the matchmakers. And I tried to pick up my match packet. But… they wouldn’t let me. Apparently, I’m”—she needed another breath—“I’m… unmatchable.”
She squeezed her eyes tighter to make sure she wouldn’t have to see the looks on their faces.
“Hmm,” Ro said after several agonizing seconds. “That’s not what I was expecting. But it should still do the trick.”
“What trick?” Sophie asked, wishing Keefe would say something. His silence was seriously killing her.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Ro told her. “And you’re being awfully quiet over there, Hunkyhair. Nothing you want to say?”
Breathing became impossible.
It felt like three entire lifetimes passed before Keefe cleared his throat and asked, “So… you decided to register?”
“Really?” Ro demanded. “That’s what you’re going with? Of all the wasted opportunities!”
“What?” Keefe snapped back. “I just thought she still had mixed feelings about it!”
“I did,” Sophie agreed. “But…”
“Yeah…,” Keefe mumbled.
Neither of them bothered to say that she’d done it for Fitz.
Because it didn’t matter anymore.
“Whoa.” The strain in Keefe’s voice made Sophie finally open her eyes—and she found him clutching his chest, face twisted with pain. “Um, what’s with all the heartache, Foster?”
Sophie crossed her arms, wishing she could physically hold back her stupid, too-strong emotions. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it feels like you think…” His eyebrows crushed together as he tilted his head to study her. “You think Fitz is going to care about this?”
“Of course he’s going to care! I’m unmatchable!” Saying it again definitely did not make it easier.
“Yeah, but… only for right now,” Keefe told her. “Once you know who your biological parents are, you’ll be fine.”
The sentence had to tumble around her brain a few times before she could figure out why it felt weird.
She hadn’t told him why she was unmatchable. Just that she was.
“You knew?” she whispered.
He stared at his foot as he kicked at the floor. “Well… I saw your Inception Certificate. And matchmaking’s all about genetics, so… I sorta assumed. And I’m sure Fitz did too.”
Sophie blew out a breath.
Was she seriously the only one who’d been too clueless to realize what that had meant?
No.
She couldn’t be.
Because Fitz had said…
“He doesn’t know,” she assured Keefe, crossing her arms tighter. “Fitz gave me this big speech about how there’s no way he and I wouldn’t be on each other’s lists.”
Ro snorted. “Wow. Is that what you elves call romance? ‘Don’t worry, my love, a bunch of snooty intellectuals are totally going to put your name on a piece of paper and give us permission to date each other’? Ugh, no wonder you haven’t felt ready for any smooching.”
Sophie’s cheeks went nuclear again. But when Ro put it that way, it did sound pretty awful—though that was also a strange observation coming from someone stuck in an arranged marriage.
And she really didn’t know what to do with the whole “my love” thing.
Keefe, meanwhile, was kicking the floor with enough gusto that Sophie wondered if he was trying to tunnel his way out of there.
“I’m sure Fitz was just assuming you’d wait to register until after the Black Swan gave you that information,” he mumbled. “I mean, it’s not like they’re never going to tell you who your biological parents are.”
Sophie barked a laugh. “Wanna bet? That’s why I met with Forkle today—I was trying to get him to tell me. And do you know what he said? ‘Perhaps in a few hundred years.’ ”
Ro whistled. “Harsh.”
Sophie nodded. “I even told him what happened at the matchmakers’, to make sure he knew the stakes—but of course he did. And then he launched into a speech about how I should be focusing on protecting the dwarves and saving Tam instead of dating. He didn’t care that…”
Nope.
She was not going to cry in front of Keefe.
Especially not about Fitz.
Keefe let out a sigh that sounded like a balloon deflating and leaned closer. “This isn’t going to change anything.”
She looked away, blinking hard and choking down the giant knot of nerves trying to close off her throat. “Right. Because being a bad match is no big deal around here—and I’m not even that. I’m unmatchable! How much you wanna bet I’m the first person that’s ever happened to?”
“You do seem to be a trendsetter,” he admitted. “But, um… you realize there are more ways to find out who your biological parents are than just asking Forkle, right? I mean, you’re Sophie Freaking Foster. Where’s that stubborn streak we all know and fear a little? You’ve told the Councillors where they could shove their rules how many times? And don’t even get me started on all the almost dying. Are you seriously telling me it hasn’t occurred to you that you can solve this on your own?”
“It has,” Sophie admitted. “I just… don’t know where to start. Mr. Forkle hasn’t exactly given me much to go on.”
“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you’re f
riends with someone who’s mastered the art of breaking rules to get what they want,” Ro told her. “I’m sure Hunkyhair can help you come up with a plan.”
Sandor cleared his throat.
“Oh, relax, Gigantor, she already said she was going to be working on this anyway,” Ro reminded him. “Isn’t it better if she has some help?”
Help.
The word felt like a spark—but it snuffed out just as fast when she realized Keefe wasn’t exactly volunteering.
“It’s okay,” she told him after a beat of awkward silence. “You should be focusing on your memories.”
“I should,” he agreed, and her heart felt like it sank into her sloshy stomach. “But… thanks to my lovely bodyguard here, it looks like I’ll be sitting out on all the scheming you’ll be doing about the dwarves and Tammy Boy. So I’ll have some extra time to kill—and you know I’d never pass up a chance to get one up on the Forklenator.”
“You don’t have to,” she told him when his smirk looked a tiny bit forced.
“I want to. Seriously.”
She met his eyes, and there was an intensity in his stare that made her heart change rhythm.
“I’m always here for whatever you need, Sophie,” he said quietly. “And I gotta say, Team Foster-Keefe is going to crush this. But… I need you to promise me one thing, okay?”
She nodded.
He looked away, kicking the ground again. “You have to tell Fitz what we’re doing—and why. Just to make sure there’re no misunderstandings, you know?”
“I know,” she mumbled. “I’ve been planning to tell him anyway. I was only waiting until I had an actual plan, so he wouldn’t freak out as badly.”
“He won’t freak out,” Keefe assured her.
“Uh, this is Fitz,” Sophie reminded him. “Reacting to bad news isn’t exactly his strong suit.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He stood and strode over to his desk, grabbing another notebook—a pale blue one this time—and a pen before plopping down on his bed. “Okay then, Miss F. Let’s figure out how to solve the ultimate Foster Mystery!”
FIVE
WOW. YOU WEREN’T KIDDING about not having much to go on,” Keefe said, squinting at the notes he’d scribbled down while Sophie had paced his room and told him everything she knew about her biological parents.
He hadn’t even filled half of a page.
And everything had question marks by it, in case Mr. Forkle had been lying.
So technically, they might have nothing.
Keefe scooted farther back on his bed and propped Mrs. Stinkbottom behind his head, looking way more relaxed than Sophie was feeling at the moment. “Okay, I have to ask… how do you feel about bending the rules of telepathy a little?”
“You mean breaking the rules of telepathy,” Sophie corrected, number one of which was No reading someone’s mind without their permission.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty positive that you and Fitzy could solve this thing in five minutes if you went all Cognate—RAWR on Forkle’s memories. You’ve broken through his blocking before.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure he has other defenses he’d start using once he figured out what we were trying to do.”
“And that’s why you do it when he’s asleep.”
Sophie frowned. “We don’t know where he lives—and even if we did, I’m sure he has all kinds of security and…”
Her voice trailed off as Keefe exchanged a look with Ro that seemed to say, Isn’t our moonlark the cutest?
“You don’t have to go to his house. You already know where he works,” Ro reminded her.
“But Foxfire’s on hiatus—and he doesn’t sleep there anyway,” Sophie argued.
Keefe laughed. “I kinda love that I have to explain this to you. It’s like proof that no matter how feisty you get, you’ll still always be our sweet little Foster.”
Sophie’s cheeks burned, but whether she was embarrassed or touched, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she hoped he didn’t notice.
“You know those sedative things you hate so much?” he asked. “We’d slip one into the Forklenator’s lunch when school’s back in session and he’s in Magnate Leto mode. Then you and Fitz would ditch your afternoon sessions, let me work my mad skills on the lock to his office, and ta-da! One conked-out Forkle drooling on his giant desk, just waiting to have his memories explored. You guys would have plenty of time to do your Telepath thing and slip back to study hall before he wakes up. I doubt he’d even know anything happened.”
“Absolutely not!” Sandor snapped. “No one will be ditching sessions or drugging anybody!”
Sophie had to agree, even if the less-than-noble part of herself couldn’t deny that the plan was solid.
“I’m not saying it wouldn’t work,” she told Keefe. “But… it’d be icky.”
“Icky?” Ro repeated.
Sophie nodded. “Keefe and I both know how it feels to have someone invade our minds and mess with our memories. I’m not doing that to anyone else.”
“Even if you wouldn’t be ‘messing’ with anything?” Keefe countered. “You’d just be learning information you should’ve been given anyway because it’s about your life. And let’s not forget that you’d be learning it from the person who stole some of your memories and planted all kinds of other stuff without telling you. I mean, if anyone deserves to have their privacy violated…”
Sophie sighed.
He wasn’t wrong.
But that didn’t make it right.
The fact that he’d used the word “violated” said more than enough.
“How about we call that plan Z?” she suggested. “And I’ll consider it once Foxfire is back in session, if literally every other idea has failed and we have no other options.”
Ro muttered something about “no fun.” But Keefe grinned. “Fair enough. And… never change, Foster. You keep us honest.”
Sophie’s face burned even hotter as he flipped to the last page of the blue notebook and wrote, “PLAN Z: UNLEASH THE FITZPHIE!!!” Then he turned back to the half-full first page and labeled it “PLAN A.”
“Okay… since right now the only information we have is about who it’s not,” he said, scanning his notes again, “the first thing we need to do is make a list of people it actually could be. Then we’ll decide how to rule them out.”
Sophie sighed. “Technically it could be anybody.”
“Nah, we can rule out a bunch of people. Like Grady and Edaline, since there’d be no reason to keep that hidden. And my dad, since he’d never give up control of his kid like that—or be able to go this long without bragging about you. And everyone in the Neverseen, since they’d never help the Black Swan—and hey, good news! That means you’re not my sister.”
Sophie stopped pacing. “Did you actually think I was?”
“Nope.” He smirked. “But admit it. You’re worrying about Fitzy now, huh?”
She hadn’t been.
But now that he mentioned it…
Keefe cracked up. “I’m kidding! Alden wouldn’t have been involved with Prentice’s memory break if he was your dad—and Della would’ve stopped him from searching for you if she was your mom.”
“I guess,” Sophie mumbled, leaning against the nearest wall, her brain spinning spinning spinning.
What if a different Vacker was her biological parent?
She could be Fitz’s cousin.
Or his aunt, thanks to the weirdness of the elvin life span.
In fact, for all she knew, her biological father could be Fallon Vacker and she’d be Fitz’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother. Sort of, at least.
“Whoa, deep breaths!” Keefe said, rushing over to her side. “It was just a joke.”
“Not your smoothest moment,” Ro told him. “Come on, Hunkyhair, don’t blow this!”
Keefe ignored her, squatting a little to meet Sophie’s eyes. “You’
re not a Vacker, Foster.”
“You don’t know that,” she argued. “It could be the reason Forkle won’t tell me, because it’d bring too much scandal to the family. Or because Fallon used to be with the Council or—”
“Fallon?” Keefe interrupted. “Wow, you’ve gone deep, deep conspiracy on me.”
“You have to admit it’s possible, right?”
She held her breath as Keefe considered, her mouth turning sourer and sourer with each passing second.
Eventually Keefe shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. Forkle would’ve snuffed out your Fitz feelings a loooooooooong time ago if you had any Vacker-family connection—and yes, I’m sure he knew about your crush. You really weren’t that great at hiding it.”
Sophie tried to glare, but she was pretty sure it mostly looked sulky.
“Seriously,” he told her. “I’m one-hundred-percent positive about this. See? No Vackers on the list.”
He held up the blue notebook, showing her the still mostly blank pages.
There were no names on the list at all—but Keefe had put “Foster Mommy” on one side and “Foster Daddy” on the other.
“Gah, what’s wrong now?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to steady her as her knees wobbled.
“She needs to rest!” Sandor snapped. “I told her she wasn’t up for this. Her conversation with Tam nearly brought back her echoes.”
“It did?” Keefe asked.
“I’m fine,” Sophie insisted, but the words were too breathless to be convincing, and she didn’t have the energy to fight Keefe as he guided her over to the bed. She even bent at the waist once she was sitting, trying to keep blood flowing to her darkening brain.
“You need water,” Keefe told her, grabbing a bottle of Youth off the floor and handing it to her. “I’ve had a few sips from this, but if I head to the kitchen for a fresh one, Lord Annoyingpants will be waiting there with questions.”
Sophie nodded, taking the bottle with shaky hands and downing the whole thing in one long swig. And the cool sweetness did clear most of the fog from her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Preeeeeeeetty sure it’s called freaking out,” Keefe said, sinking onto the bed beside her. “The question is, why?”
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