Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7)

by Shannon Messenger

  Keefe smirked. “Epic Fitzphie fail.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes, wanting to be annoyed. But . . . it was nice to see him acting more like his old self.

  Honestly, it was nice to see him at all.

  Her other friends had been checking in every day, thanks to the Imparter that Edaline had brought her. But she hadn’t spoken to Keefe. She only knew he wasn’t running off and adding to his list of regrets because Biana had told her he was faithfully attending the basic sword-technique lessons that she’d arranged with Woltzer.

  She almost asked him why he hadn’t reached out, but decided to keep their conversation on safer trails. “How’d you convince Elwin to let you in today?”

  “You know I never reveal my secrets.”

  “He had a pass from Magnate Leto,” Elwin called from his office.

  Keefe scowled. “Yeah—but that doesn’t explain how I convinced him to give it to me!”

  “Edaline told him to!” Elwin countered.

  “Really?” Sophie hadn’t seen Edaline since that morning when they’d had . . . words.

  And she hadn’t meant to lash out and tell Edaline to go back to Havenfield. But the Healing Center’s walls were crowding closer every minute, and there wasn’t enough space to fit all the worried glances anymore.

  Keefe tilted his head, his eyes lingering on the braid that Edaline had woven into Sophie’s hair the night before, after she’d helped her through yet another awkward sponge bath.

  “She’s worried about you,” he said.

  “I know.” Her itchy eyelashes called to her, but she kept her hand in her lap. “But I’m fine.”

  “Yeah. She said you’d say that.” He crossed his arms. “She also told me about the echoes.”

  Sophie pulled her blanket tighter around herself.

  She hadn’t mentioned the echoes to any of her friends, figuring they probably already knew, since Tam and Linh had been there, and all the Vackers had been told why Fitz was still sedated.

  And it was so much easier to pretend she wasn’t that weak little girl that Gethen—

  Nope.

  She shut the memory down before it could wake the monster.

  She’d been having to do that a lot.

  Constant mental self-editing.

  So now the Neverseen even got to control her thoughts.

  “I gotta say,” Keefe said, settling back against his cot’s pillows, “the explanation didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Something about bridges and bullies—”

  “I thought it was about monsters,” Ro interrupted.

  “Yeah, there was something about those too,” Keefe agreed. “But it was mostly about boring Shade stuff and . . .” He faked a huge, loud yawn.

  “Still . . . I’m guessing it’s kind of a big deal,” he added gently, “if you’re chugging those every night.”

  He pointed to the vials of bright pink elixir lined up next to her cot, making her cheeks turn a similar color. And there was nothing she could say.

  “Okay,” Keefe said, leaning closer, “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get an honest answer to this question, but I’m going to start there anyway: How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “I am! The treatments are working now. I’m getting a little better every day. No more setbacks. No more nightmares.”

  “Cool. Now how about you try that again with the truth?”

  “That is the truth.”

  It just wasn’t the whole story.

  But she was supposed to be staying positive, which meant she couldn’t think about the fact that she’d been stuck in the same position in the same cot, staring at the same four walls for over a week. And she definitely couldn’t think about the fact that Elwin had no idea how much longer it was going to take before she could leave—or how many weeks after that she’d still be on bed rest or having to baby her stupid right hand, or taking sedatives every night to keep her dreams from straying anywhere she couldn’t handle. He’d even brought Livvy in, and they came up with a whole new approach to her treatment. But so far it hadn’t made any noticeable difference—except that it meant downing dozens and dozens of disgusting elixirs.

  “Okay, new plan!” Keefe said, jumping to his feet. “As soon as Leto goes home for the night we’re busting you out of this room—and before you tell me you’re not allowed to move, don’t worry. Ro will be super careful as she carries you.”

  “NOPE!” Elwin called out.

  “You can’t stop me!” Ro shouted back. “And don’t worry—I can be gentle when I want to be. I was thinking we’d go spike a few DNA panels with some of my favorite amoebas. Make sure all the brats who tried to harass me when I first got to this place know I haven’t forgotten them.”

  “And then we’ll raid the secret cafeteria where they hide all the fancy desserts for the Mentors,” Keefe added.

  Sophie’s stomach growled, and she gave herself three seconds to imagine it—to picture what it would be like to creep through the shimmering halls when they were empty and quiet and dark and see all the hidden places Keefe had discovered.

  But . . .

  “Don’t you go shaking that adorable little head at me, Foster,” he said before she could get a word out. “Clearly you need my help. You’ve had this campus to yourself all night every night, and you haven’t caused even a tiny bit of chaos. Don’t you realize you have the chance to top the Great Gulon Incident—or try, at least, since nothing will ever top that kind of genius?”

  It said something that she was too tired to ask him about his infamous prank.

  “Believe me,” she told him. “No one wants out of here more than I do. But I’m not going to risk undoing the progress I’ve made on my arm—not after everything I’ve gone through to get this far.”

  His eyes met hers—some sort of staring contest.

  And she didn’t blink.

  “Ugh. Fine, we can hold off the late-night exploring—for now. But I’m still super disappointed in you, Foster. You’ve got the Fitzster passed out cold right there. And you know Elwin would be down with sneaking him a few funky elixirs. You could be giving him hairy feet and purple freckles and pretty pink ringlets. But what have you been doing instead?”

  He snatched the knotted piece of extra bandage from her lap and held it up by the corner, like it was some icky dead thing. “Do I want to know why I found you staring at this like it holds the secrets of the universe?”

  “It’s called trying to improve my telekinesis,” she grumbled, reaching for the scrap—but of course Keefe raised his arm and dangled it just out of her reach. And he was too far away to punch.

  “Why would you need to improve that?” he asked. “Need I remind you that you’re the Ultimate Splotching Champion? Also the Girl Who Dropped Bronte on His Grumpy Butt—which you should be bragging about more, by the way. Why isn’t that embroidered across all of your Foxfire uniforms?”

  “It’s not that kind of telekinesis,” she argued. “I’m trying to learn how to untie the knot with my mind.”

  And she’d been squinting at the scrap of fabric for days and hadn’t done anything except spin it around—which was extra disappointing since she was stuck relying on her clumsy left hand. She’d tried working on some of the makeup schoolwork that Magnate Leto had sent over, and it’d been a debacle. She couldn’t hold a book and turn a page at the same time. Couldn’t take notes. Couldn’t even write her name.

  “Can I have my knot back, please?” she asked, holding out her good hand.

  A glint flashed in Keefe’s eyes. “Nooooo, I think you’re going to have to take it from me.”

  Sophie locked her jaw. “I’m really not in the mood.”

  “I know—that’s what makes it extra fun. Go on.” He tossed the knot up in the air and caught it with his mind. “Pretend it’s a splotcher and show me how you beat the Great Fitzy at his favorite game.”

  “I didn’t beat him—I knocked him backward
against a wall and knocked myself out in the process.”

  “Oooh, that sounds fun!” Ro jumped in. “Let’s try that again!”

  “I’m game,” Keefe said. “But Foster looks a little scared, doesn’t she?”

  He raised that smug eyebrow again, and it was so on.

  But wow, was his mind faster than Sophie expected.

  She tried sneak attacks and desperate flailing snatches and everything in between. And every time, the fabric zipped easily out of her reach.

  “Okay, how were you not in the final round of the Splotching Championship?” she demanded. “Did you let Fitz win?”

  “Psh, like I’d ever do that!”

  “I don’t know . . . ,” Ro told him—and he sent her a death glare.

  “That’s different,” he insisted.

  “Not really,” she grumbled. “But it’s your call.”

  “It is,” he agreed, dodging Sophie’s latest mental lunge, despite his distraction.

  “Seriously, how are you so good at this?” she asked.

  He grinned and lowered the knot, dangling it under her nose the same way she used to taunt her cat with a strip of ribbon. “Let’s just say I’ve been practicing.”

  She gathered her energy for an all-out pounce, determined to beat him, when she realized what he probably meant.

  “You’re talking about the training you did with the Neverseen, aren’t you?”

  Keefe’s smile fell.

  So did the knotted bandage, which plopped into her lap with a muffled thud.

  “Some of the training’s from Foxfire,” he said slowly, “but . . .”

  “It’s okay,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter who taught you.”

  And she meant it.

  In fact, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this earlier.

  “Did they teach you any tricks?” she asked. “Or was it just all the practice that made you better?”

  “Both,” he said, looking squirmy.

  But that was the answer she’d been hoping for.

  She might be stuck in a cramped bed in a cramped room with a wounded arm and a sedated Cognate and no access to visitors and ten zillion other limitations that were making her want to shred her blankets into itty-bitty pieces.

  But she could do this.

  “Teach me what they taught you,” she begged.

  “It wasn’t anything exciting, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Keefe warned. “I wish it was—believe me. I pushed myself harder in their boring lessons than I ever have at anything before. I thought if they saw me as Captain Committed, they’d teach me something good. But it was always the same stuff we did at Exillium, just with a few different tips.”

  “Tips are good,” Sophie promised. “Tips are better than sitting here, staring at this until I go cross-eyed.”

  She held up the knotted scrap of bandage.

  “Please,” she added when it looked like he was going to argue. “I’m so sick of being useless.”

  “You’re not—”

  “Yes, I am. Biana, Tam, and Dex have searched Everglen—twice. And you guys have all started training—even Wylie and Marella. Meanwhile I spent the morning having my mommy dress me like some stupid doll.”

  She wasn’t being fair to how hard Edaline was working to take care of her. But . . . it was all so absurd. Sitting there with braided hair, wearing one of the jeweled tunics that had been altered to fit around her bandage. The sleeves were gone, leaving her arms and shoulders bare, and the neckline had been altered to tie like a halter—which did make getting dressed way easier. But it also made her feel like Healing Center Barbie.

  “Embrace the sparkles, Foster,” Keefe told her. “They look good on you.”

  Any other day she might’ve blushed.

  Instead, she stared at her one working hand and whispered, “I can’t even take my medicine without needing someone to open the vials for me.”

  His smile faded and he leaned against the side of her cot. “That still doesn’t make you useless. But . . . I do know the feeling. I got to spend a whole week in bed while you guys went to Nightfall without me, remember?”

  “And you should’ve heard the whining!” Ro chimed in. “And the sniveling. And the moronic escape plans. It’s amazing he made it through without me bashing his pretty face.”

  “Aw, did you hear that? Ro thinks I’m pretty! I mean—I usually go for more of a roguish handsome, but . . .” He tossed his hair and fluttered his eyelashes.

  Sophie’s lips curled into a smile—without her permission. “I’m serious, Keefe. I need to train or I’m going to go out of my mind. If you won’t teach me—”

  “I will,” he promised. “Sorry. I was just . . . stalling.”

  “Why?”

  He tugged at the edge of her blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles. “The thing is . . . I’m not exactly proud of that time period, you know? Whenever I think about it, I want to slam my head into the wall.”

  “You ever need help with that, I’m your girl,” Ro told him with a wink.

  Keefe ignored her. “I guess I just wish I could pretend it never happened. But . . . we might as well try to get something out of it. The training wasn’t fancy, but it was solid—and it did make me stronger. Probably because Alvar handled most of it, and he was one of few who actually liked having me there. He wanted me on their side—and not because he was playing head games like Fintan, or because of my mom and her creepy legacy. He seriously believed in the cause, and for some reason he wanted me to believe in it too. That’s why I hope his memories really are gone and not just tucked away somewhere. Because if he ever remembers why he joined, I know he’ll go back.”

  “You really think so?” Sophie had to ask. “You don’t think he’ll look at his scars and be too angry—like he said at the Tribunal?”

  Keefe shook his head. “For one thing: We don’t know who gave him those scars. Might not have been the Neverseen.”

  Well . . . that was something she hadn’t thought of.

  “Who else would’ve done it?” she whispered.

  “No idea. All I know is it’s possible. But even if it was the Neverseen, I just don’t see Alvar turning his back on them—not after everything he’s already given up. I mean, think about it: He wasn’t like Fintan or Brant, where his ability was banned—or Ruy, who was banished. He was a Vacker. He had all the power and prestige he could ever want. And he passed it up for the Neverseen.”

  She wasn’t a fan of how much sense he was making.

  “I’m assuming he never told you why he joined?” she asked.

  “Nope. Just lots of ‘you’ll see someday.’ But one time he did give me this speech about how history only has two sides—the right side and the wrong side—and how we were both exactly where we should be. And that kind of conviction doesn’t go away. He may have forgotten about it. But if he ever remembers . . .”

  Every word made Sophie more desperate to sprint across the room, shake Fitz awake, and get started on Cognate training. She didn’t care about the echoes, or any pending humiliation. Because her mind was spinning new ways—new directions. And it was making her piece together a whole new set of questions.

  Questions she should’ve been asking herself from the moment she’d woken up in the Healing Center, instead of lying there feeling sorry for herself:

  What if the Neverseen’s attack wasn’t a warning to get her to cooperate—or their way of trying to find Wylie?

  What if all of that had been a distraction?

  What if this was really about taking her and Fitz out of commission?

  After all, Umber had focused her attacks on them. And Gethen had clearly known about the Council’s verdict for Alvar.

  What if they wanted to make sure the Black Swan’s most valuable Telepaths weren’t available when they needed them?

  “Relax, Foster,” Keefe said, squeezing her good hand and lacing their fingers together.

  A gentle breeze swept across her consciousness, an
d she realized he must’ve also peeled off her glove. The wind was a swirl of purples and blues—a whisper of mental twilight, brushing away the darkness gathering in her mind.

  Calming the monster before it could stir.

  She closed her eyes, letting her breathing match the flow of the breeze as her pulse slowly steadied.

  “You okay there?” he whispered.

  She nodded, not quite ready to use her voice.

  Not ready to let go of his hand, either.

  It had been close.

  Too close.

  She’d felt the headache rolling in like fog, but the wind had knocked it back.

  “Sorry,” Keefe said, tightening his fingers with hers. “I shouldn’t have brought up any of those worries. Edaline warned me that you need to stay calm right now.”

  “But that might be what they want! What if—”

  “Can I say something before you let that powerful imagination run wild again?” he asked, filling her head with another soft, trickling breeze. “I’ve been doing my own tests on Everglen’s security all week—that’s why I haven’t had time to check in—”

  “And I did an actual useful search,” Ro added, “with my senses.”

  “It took us days,” Keefe continued. “We searched both inside and outside the fence. And I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that Everglen’s a fortress. Seriously, Foster. No one’s getting in or out unless they go through the main gate—and the Council has guards posted there around the clock. Dex also added a few extra fail-safes to the Warden just in case. So there’s no way Alvar’s going anywhere.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said, taking a long, slow breath. “But that doesn’t mean the Neverseen don’t still want me trapped in this bed. What if—”

  “That’s absolutely what they want,” Ro interrupted. “Isn’t that obvious? I mean . . . they exploded your bones—and filled you with those echo things, and—”

  “Uh, we’re supposed to be keeping her calm, remember?” Keefe cut in.

  “Fine,” Ro huffed. “My point is, of course they want you out of commission. Some of them would probably even prefer to have you dead, but they’re keeping you alive for the same reason they want you out of their way. You’re the moonlark! You’re this mysterious, untested thing. As far as they’re concerned, you’re the single biggest threat they’re facing—and maybe the biggest advantage if they could find a way to turn you. I’m sure half their plans revolve around trying to scare you, stop you, or recruit you—and all your little friends and allies, too.”