“Any chance you could get us a bucket of ice water for today’s lesson?” he asked, straightening up and clearing his throat. “I promise not to dump it on Foster’s head—unless she wants me to.”
Elwin sighed as he headed for the alchemy section of the Healing Center. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?”
“You won’t!” Keefe assured him. “We’re working on body temperature regulation.”
Sophie groaned.
The day they’d practiced that skill at Exillium had been long, hot, and very, very sweaty. And given the large silver basin of freezing water that Elwin set on the cot next to hers, it looked like a lot of shivering would soon be in her future.
“You sure you don’t want to work on something else?” she tried.
“I’m sure. I know it seems like a pointless skill when you first think about it—like, ‘Why can’t I just put on a heavier cape or roll up my sleeves?’ But I bet if we’d all mastered it before the ambush on Everest, my mom wouldn’t have gotten away. And Alvar told me it’s the only reason he didn’t die when Brant trapped him in a room full of flames to punish him. That’s why he made me practice it for a few minutes every day, along with appetite suppression, breathing control, and darkness vision. He called them our ‘survival instincts.’ ”
They both stared at the basin, watching the ice swirl, until Keefe whispered the words they were both thinking.
“I should’ve taught you this stuff a while ago.”
“I should’ve asked you to,” she said, accepting her half of the blame.
They’d both wanted to put Keefe’s time with the Neverseen behind them. And they’d both been mourning the loss of one of the Forkles, and trying to find her human parents, and battling a million other distractions.
All that mattered was, “You’re teaching me now.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He helped her prop herself up with a few extra pillows and scooted the basin close enough to her left side to make the chill seep through her blankets.
“I thought we’d start with cold temperatures because it’s a little less miserable than training for heat,” he explained as he pulled off her glove. “Though you’re probably still going to want to punch me when you dunk your arm in.”
“My whole arm? Not just my hand?”
“Yep. The colder you are, the more it’ll trigger your instincts.”
“Of course.”
Condensation was dribbling down the sides of the metal basin, and even touching the rim made her fingers sting. So she steeled herself for a serious shock of cold—but the reality was a thousand times more miserable.
“Aw, those little shrieking sounds you’re making are super adorable,” Keefe told her. “Ready to punch me yet?”
“S-splashing y-you s-sounds b-better,” she said through chattering teeth.
“I suppose. But we both know I’ll splash you back—and then you’ll retaliate, because you may look all sweet and innocent, but you have a feisty streak. And then it’ll be an ice-water war, and Elwin will ban me from the Healing Center and you’ll be lost without my visits, and I’d rather not make you suffer like that. So how about I teach you Alvar’s trick to make it not feel so cold?”
“You c-c-could’ve o-offered th-that f-five m-minutes a-ago!”
“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have been as freezing as I needed you to be. See how well I distracted you?”
She was very tempted to dunk his head.
“W-WHAT’S THE TR-TRICK?”
“This.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
“Th-that d-does n-nothing,” she argued, copying the gesture over and over.
“Oh, but it does. It creates friction. And if you let your brain amplify the heat from that friction, you’d be warm and toasty right now. But you’re still concentrating on the cold. Come on, Foster. Think warm thoughts and snap again.”
She gave him her surliest glare before she closed her eyes and tried to make her mind home in on the subtle hints of warmth drifting around the basin—like the water immediately around her arm, which had absorbed her body heat. And the water near the surface, where air from the room had tempered the chill.
It wasn’t much, but it was something, and she willed her cells to embrace that warmth, to soak it up and really feel it. Then she snapped her fingers, imagining it like striking a match in a room full of kindling.
“Oh wow,” she breathed as the temperature shifted—or her sense of it, at least.
Suddenly the basin felt like a swimming pool, or a tepid bath. Even the ice cubes felt like nothing more than floating squares.
But the warmth faded just as fast. And when the cold rushed back, it felt harsher than before, stabbing her skin with icy needles.
“Holding on to the feeling’s the hard part,” Keefe said, wrapping her arm in a soft towel as she yanked it out of the water. “That’s why Alvar had me practice every day. He said if I kept at it, the instinct would become second nature. Guess I should probably get back in the habit.”
“We could practice together,” Sophie offered.
“Is that your way of making sure I suffer with you?”
She gave him half a shrug—and a full smile. “You in or not?”
He grinned. “Oh, I am so in.”
• • •
The next day they both lasted ten minutes with their arms in the icy basin—though some of that might’ve been thanks to the extra body heat in the water.
But still, it was progress—which was more than Sophie could say for the lesson afterward, which turned out to be on appetite suppression.
“Get ready to hate me,” Keefe said as he set a tray in her lap filled with mouthwatering candy and desserts and then told her she couldn’t eat any of it.
Ro and Elwin were zero help—both munching happily on trays of their own.
“I know, appetite suppression’s rough,” Keefe told her. “And sadly there’s no real trick except distraction—unless you can convince yourself that you’re not hungry. You’re not, right? You don’t want this butterblast, do you?”
He took a huge bite of a round, golden pastry topped with giant sugar crystals.
If it weren’t for her injuries, she would’ve leaped out of bed and wrestled it away from him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save you a bite. But first you need to go one solid hour without your stomach growling. So ignore me”—he took another giant bite of the butterblast—“and focus on Krakie. Or you can focus on Krakie’s new buddies.”
He set three Prattles pins on her tray—a jaculus, a kelpie, and a sasquatch. “Meet Bitey, Scaley Butt, and The Stink—your new bandage buddies! We need to figure out the perfect place to put them. I think Scaley Butt should be near Krakie so it looks like they’re swimming together. And then Bitey could be close to The Stink so it looks like he’s trying to chomp him.”
“You’re a very strange person, you know that?” she asked as he pinned the new creatures in place.
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘awesome.’ I’m an awesome person—who stopped you from thinking about how hungry you are for, like, five minutes.”
“And then reminded me,” Sophie noted with a stomach growl.
“Oops. Well . . . okay, your new hour starts now!”
It was a very long afternoon.
But it was worth it when Keefe gave her the last bite of butterblast, which was chewy like a doughnut but tasted like pancakes hot off the griddle and was filled with some sort of thick, maple-y cream. It was quite possibly the most amazing thing she’d ever put in her mouth—and that was saying something, considering she lived in a world with mallowmelt and custard bursts and ripplefluffs and pudding puffs.
“If you want another,” Keefe told her, “you’re going to have to let Ro carry you with me into the secret cafeteria.”
“Not happening,” Elwin warned.
Keefe smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”
• • •
The next day was a little easier. Sophie and Keefe both lasted fifteen minutes in the ice basin before the shivering took over. And Sophie nailed the breath control trick on the first try.
It helped that breath control had been one of the skills she’d excelled at while they attended Exillium. But Alvar’s trick of wiggling her toes did make it easier to distract herself.
And when she made it twenty minutes in the ice basin the next afternoon, she was feeling pretty proud of herself.
But the skill of the day was darkness vision—a skill she’d failed at when she tried it at Exillium. Too many nightmares had lurked in the shadows—and that was before they had claws and teeth.
Keefe cut the lesson off as soon as he felt the spike of fear.
Sophie didn’t argue.
She could feel the monster stirring—hear the whispers that would roar if she let the memories take over.
“Remember, Krakie’s got your back,” Keefe told her as she lay still, letting Elwin check for signs of setbacks. “And so does Fluffy,” he added, pinning a Prattles T. rex next to the kraken on her bandaged hand.
“Dude, enough with the cutesy pin names,” Ro told him.
“Never!” Keefe said, adding a verminion he called Cheeky. “You’ve got this, Foster.”
But she didn’t.
They’d stopped the lesson in time to block any pain or damage. But they’d also proven the monster was alive and well.
Even with all the progress her shattered bones had made.
All the strength Sophie had discovered during her lessons.
All the waiting.
All the elixirs and blurry sedatives.
All the distractions.
The echoes hadn’t faded. Not even a little.
“They will,” Keefe promised.
Elwin said the same thing.
So did Edaline when she checked on Sophie the next morning.
Biana told her that too, when she hailed with her next round of updates. Apparently the rest of her friends were adding daggers into their training now. And Woltzer was planning to work in some hand-to-hand combat soon.
Meanwhile Sophie was still stuck in the same place.
She knew it wasn’t her friends’ fault. But . . . she hated everything.
And even though it was the most counterproductive thing ever, she skipped her lesson with Keefe that day. She just . . . couldn’t.
She told him she needed to rest.
They both knew she needed to sulk.
And sulk she did—a long day of glaring and pouting and generally feeling sorry for herself.
Which seemed extra childish every time her eyes drifted to Fitz. At least she wasn’t going to get pulled from a drugged stupor and find out she’d lost days and days and days.
And really, how much longer were they going to wait?
“One day at a time” could mean weeks—months—years before the echoes faded.
Terrifying as that thought was, they couldn’t keep ignoring it. Otherwise, what? Were they just going to leave Fitz unconscious indefinitely?
Shouldn’t they at least wake him up and tell him what was going on, see how the echoes actually affected him, and let him decide if he wanted more sedatives?
Then again, wasn’t it better that he was getting to sleep through all the angst and frustration she was currently living with?
She studied the relaxed lines of his features. The soft flutter of his long, dark eyelashes. The adorable way his arms cradled Mr. Snuggles against his bandaged chest.
I don’t know what to do.
She hadn’t meant to transmit the words, but . . . it felt good to say them. And it wasn’t like he could hear her. He hadn’t flinched. His breathing hadn’t changed rhythm.
So she told him, I really wish you were awake.
He let out a snuffly snore, which gave her the courage to ask, What if I just want you to wake up because I’m tired of fighting the echoes all by myself?
That wasn’t the right question, though.
What if I want you to wake up because I miss you?
She’d been trying to stay busy, trying not to look at the beautiful boy sleeping over in the corner—the boy Umber had attacked in order to make her cooperate.
But she hated having him so close and still so far away.
She watched his eyelids flutter a second longer. Then forced her gaze elsewhere, realizing she’d taken wallowing to a whole new level. And it was time to get back on track.
Tomorrow she’d return to her routine. More medicine. More lessons. More—
A sharp intake of breath sliced through her planning.
And when she turned back to Fitz, his eyes were more than fluttering.
One blink.
Two.
Three.
And then . . . they stayed open.
FIFTEEN
HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN asleep?” Fitz asked, his voice crackly from all the days without use.
His expression was still sleepy and clueless—hair tousled, eyes blinky, lips stretching into wide yawns—and Sophie hated to strip away that innocence.
But she scraped together the courage.
“It’s been—”
“We’ll get to that question in a minute,” Elwin interrupted as he rushed to Fitz’s side and slipped on his special glasses. “First I need to check a few things to make sure you’re really up for that conversation.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Fitz aimed the question at Sophie. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“A lot,” she admitted as Elwin snapped his fingers and flashed one of those layered light bubbles around Fitz’s chest.
Time crawled by—forty-three endless seconds—before Elwin stepped back, scratched his forehead, and said, “Well, it’s probably safe to tell him about the echoes.”
“Probably?” Sophie said in the same breath that Fitz asked, “Echoes?”
Elwin shrugged. “No guarantees when it comes to any of this. And yes,” he told Fitz. “You’re going to hear a lot about echoes. And something called shadowflux. But I’ll admit, I don’t really know how to explain it.”
He gave Sophie a Care-to-take-it-from-here? look.
She pulled Ella from her tangled blankets, needing something to hold on to.
“It’s weird and confusing,” she warned, then chose each word carefully, trying to soften the blow while still making the situation clear. The only part she glossed over was the monster, since that was her battle. And she tried to focus on how strong his vitals were.
But Fitz still looked shadowed and pale when she’d finished.
“So . . . ,” he said, tracing a finger over the bandages covering his chest, “there’s something wrong with my heart.”
“Not necessarily,” Elwin corrected. “All we know is that the shadowflux left an echo there. We don’t know what that means, or when it will fade—that’s why we kept you sedated.”
Fitz swallowed hard. “And how long have I been out?”
Elwin and Sophie shared a look.
“About two weeks,” Elwin said.
“TWO WEEKS? WHY—oh.”
He clutched his chest and rolled onto his side as much as his bandaged leg allowed.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked as a strangled groan poured from Fitz’s lips and Elwin flashed a purple orb around him.
“No idea,” Elwin admitted, flickering through several more colors before he told Fitz, “I need you to talk to me. I can’t see this kind of pain, so you’re going to have to tell me what you’re feeling.”
“It’s not pain,” Fitz gritted out, his hands curling into fists. “It’s more like . . . pressure. Like my heart is pushing against my ribs.”
“Your pulse is also racing,” Elwin noted. “So let’s try deep breaths. Like this.”
He sucked in a long breath and slowly let it go.
Again.
Again.
Sophie joined them, trying to keep her own panic from digging its claws in.
Another
breath.
Another.
And Fitz unclenched his fists, reaching to wipe his sweaty brow. “I think it’s easing up,” he rasped, and Sophie blinked hard, fighting the tears of relief gathering in her eyes.
“Good. Then just keep breathing,” Elwin said as he moved to his wall of medicine and studied the newly reorganized shelves.
He grabbed two vials and headed back, flashing an opalescent bubble of light around Fitz and squinting through his spectacles. “I would highly recommend taking this,” he said, holding up a midnight blue serum.
“I’m assuming it’s a sedative,” Fitz guessed.
Elwin nodded.
“Then forget it.”
“Fitz,” Sophie tried.
“FORGET IT! I’m not—oh. Wow. Okay, it’s not good to get angry.” He curled up again, hugging Mr. Snuggles as tightly as he could.
He would’ve looked adorable if his features weren’t twisted and sweaty.
“Remember to breathe,” Elwin told him.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
When Fitz’s grip on his sparkly dragon relaxed, Elwin told him, “I figured you were going to say that. It’s why I also grabbed this.” He held up a forest green elixir. “I designed this medicine for Caprise Redek, trying to help her steady her moods. It sadly wasn’t strong enough, thanks to the complexities of her injuries. And I have no idea if it’s the right approach for you. But your emotions seem to affect the echo, so—”
“I’ll take it,” Fitz told him, holding out his hand.
A million arguments raged in Sophie’s head as she watched him swallow the elixir, but she kept them there, knowing she would’ve made the same choice.
“How does that feel?” Elwin asked, flashing a blue orb around him.
“I can’t really tell,” Fitz admitted.
But after several more seconds he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, I think that’s better. My chest just feels a little tight now. And sore.”
Sophie slumped against her pillow, relief warm and tingly in her head.
“Is that how it is for you?” Fitz asked her.
“Sort of. It hits me just as fast—and my emotions definitely trigger it. But I get a headache. And if I’m asleep, the nightmares are . . .” She stopped herself before she could relive any of them. “I also get pain in my hand, and it can affect how my bones are healing.”
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 19