Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7)

by Shannon Messenger

  The thing is, she started again, Biana needs you. You know that’s why she’s here, right? I mean, yeah, I’m sure she also thought you should know what’s going on—but if that’s all it was, she would’ve left as soon as she finished telling you. But she’s still here, probably hoping you’ll decide to go home with her so she isn’t alone when she has to watch your parents let your brother in. And honestly? I don’t blame her for that.

  I don’t either. He let out a breath, and it sounded a lot like he was deflating. Ugh, I hate this.

  I know.

  I mean, I REALLY hate it.

  I know.

  This is how it’s going to be from here on out. Everything’s going to revolve around Alvar. First they drag me home early because they couldn’t be bothered to wait one day. And next it’ll be, “We can’t have anyone over right now—it’s a security risk.” Not that anyone will want to come over knowing there’s a murderer at my house.

  I will, Sophie promised. And I’m sure Keefe will—and Tam and Linh and Dex. Probably even Marella. We’ll be allowed to, right?

  I don’t know, he admitted. I could see my dad saying it’s too risky. Or your new bodyguards might not want you around my brother.

  She cringed at the reminder of exactly how many people she’d have bossing her around once she got home. But now wasn’t the time to worry about herself.

  Yeah, well . . . they can’t keep me away.

  He didn’t return her smile.

  That’s not even the worst part, he told her. The worst part will be when my parents start nagging me and Biana to spend time at Alvar’s apartment because “the Council needs to see how he interacts with other people.” And if we don’t give in, they’ll just let him into the house—though I’m sure they’ll do that anyway.

  He flung Mr. Snuggles across the room.

  “Sorry,” he said out loud. “I’m fine—don’t worry about the echo.”

  The echo was only a tiny part of her worries. And she wished she had some magic solution.

  The best she could come up with was, “I think you, Biana, and your parents need to sit down and figure out some very specific ground rules for how this is going to work—and I think today is the day to do it, before he moves in. You have some time before sunset. You should go home and lay out everything you can and can’t handle: where you’re willing to see Alvar and where you’re not, under what conditions, how often—all that stuff. And for every compromise you make, demand something in return.”

  “Like what?”

  Sophie considered that. “What about access to your dad’s office so you can search it for yourself?”

  Fitz leaned back a little. “Huh. That’s actually not a bad idea.”

  Sophie smiled. “You don’t need to sound so surprised.”

  “I’m not. I’m just thinking.”

  She let him mull it all over for several minutes—even though it felt like an eternity—before she asked, “So . . . does that mean you’ll go with Biana? Because you probably shouldn’t wait too much longer. You’ll want to make sure you get this all ironed out before Alvar gets there.”

  Fitz closed his eyes. “I really wish you’d stop being right.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, giving him a few more seconds. Then she asked, “Should we tell Elwin you’re leaving? I’m sure he’s going to want to check you one more time before you go.”

  She was right again.

  Elwin also insisted on sending Fitz with a satchel full of elixirs—and while he went over all the instructions, Biana gathered up Fitz’s extra clothes and Mr. Snuggles and helped him out of bed and onto his crutches. In less than ten minutes they were ready to go.

  “I don’t know what you said to him,” Biana whispered as Sophie stood and gave her a one-armed hug. “But thank you.”

  “Anytime,” Sophie told her. “Will you be okay?”

  “Of course!” And she almost sounded convincing.

  Then Biana let her go, busying herself with digging out her home crystal as Sophie turned to Fitz, trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

  It wasn’t like they’d never see each other again. But . . . it felt like an end, somehow.

  “So,” she mumbled, not sure how to finish that sentence—or what to do with her arms. Or where to stand.

  It all felt awkward and weird and wrong—until Fitz dropped his crutches and gently pulled her into a hug.

  “I don’t want to go,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want you to either,” she admitted, hoping her hushed tone hid the thickness in her voice.

  She told herself not to pull him tighter so he wouldn’t feel how hard her heart was pounding. But she couldn’t help leaning closer when she realized his pulse felt just as crazy as hers.

  She didn’t know what that meant.

  But it felt like something.

  And she could’ve stood like that for a good long while, but . . . it really wasn’t the time for that sort of thing. She wasn’t sure when the right time would be—or what would happen when it was.

  But for the moment, that was okay.

  “Check in when you can,” she told him, not wanting to pile on too much pressure.

  “I will,” he said, clinging to her a second longer before he let go.

  Then Biana helped him with his crutches, thankfully not saying a word about their lengthy hug as she reached for her brother’s hand and held her crystal up to create a path.

  Fitz’s eyes never left Sophie’s as he let Biana lead them forward, offering one last smile before he left.

  It was only half a smile.

  But she knew it was just for her.

  And she smiled back as Fitz and Biana stepped into the light and leaped back to Everglen.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  FITZ DIDN’T CHECK IN THAT night.

  Sophie hadn’t really expected him to—or that was what she told herself—since she knew he’d be busy dealing with the return of his nefarious brother.

  But she still spent the rest of her day staring at her Imparter, wishing it would light up with his face. Or hoping his crisp, accented voice would flood into her mind and tell her how everything was going—and not just because she missed him way more than she should, or because she was worried about how he was handling everything.

  It . . . wasn’t easy sitting in the same boring cot surrounded by the same boring walls while this huge, monumental thing was happening without her.

  “One more night,” Elwin kept telling her every time he brought another elixir for her to swallow or coated her arm in another smelly balm.

  Around the fourth or fifth treatment, she finally asked, “And then what?”

  It was the question she’d been avoiding, not wanting to hear how much recovery she still had ahead.

  And it was not good news.

  More rest.

  More elixirs.

  Lots more patience.

  Plus a long list of things her hand and arm weren’t going to be doing anytime soon.

  He’d even broken it into a timeline—week after week of her still not being able to train with the rest of her friends.

  She knew she should get up—walk it off—remind herself how far she’d come since she’d entered the Healing Center. But what good was wandering aimlessly through the halls?

  Honestly, what good was going home if she was still going to spend most of her time in a different bed staring at different walls and still not actually doing much of anything?

  So she sat there, hour after hour, telling herself she wasn’t sulking, she was resting like the good little patient Elwin needed her to be. She’d almost convinced herself it was true, until Keefe marched through the doors to the Healing Center and declared, “Wow, it’s like walking into a cloud of sulk in here.”

  He fanned the air away from his face as he made his way over. “I mean, I figured you’d be feeling a little lost without your Cognate buddy, but trust me: Fitzy isn’t worth this much angst.”

  �
�I’m not pouting about Fitz,” Sophie informed him.

  “Ah, so you admit you are pouting?” he countered, plopping onto the edge of her cot with enough oomph to make the mattress bounce.

  She shrugged.

  “Hmm. This might be more moping than Krakie can handle—I guess it’s a good thing I brought him a friend!” He reached into his cape and pulled out the kraken pin that Sophie had given him to take care of, along with a fresh box of Prattles. “Let’s see what we got this time.”

  He fished out the tiny pouch and uncovered a blue, scale-covered kitten. “A murcat! Gah—that’s tricky to name. We already have a Scaley Butt. How about Drifty? Or Sea-Whiskers?”

  Sophie sighed. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “If you’re talking about being adorable, I really can’t help myself.”

  He said it with a wink and a smirk—which wasn’t playing fair. But she managed to stop her lips from curving into a smile.

  Keefe laughed and reached for her left wrist, carefully pinning Krakie back into place on her makeshift bracelet before adding the murcat next to the kelpie. “Okay, so you have two choices,” he told her. “You can tell me what brought on the Foster Funk. Or I can guess—and I have some pretty interesting theories.”

  “So do I,” Ro added, snatching the box of Prattles away from Keefe and pouring half the candy into her mouth at once.

  “Three seconds to decide,” Keefe warned. “Then it’s guessing time!”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Sophie told him over the sound of Ro’s crunching. “I’m just . . . really sick of being in this bed.”

  “Okay. Then let’s get you out of it! I hear you can do that now!” He hopped back to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. “I promised to show you a secret cafeteria, didn’t I? Perfect way to end your Foxfire slumber party!”

  It felt a little wrong to go hunting for desserts while Fitz and Biana were trying to figure out how to live with their murdering brother.

  But . . . butterblasts did sound pretty good.

  “Hang on—what are you wearing?” Keefe asked as she threw back her covers, revealing the sparkly slogans on her tunic. “Is that a Bangs Boy reference? Because you know I haven’t let him into the Foster Fan Club, right?”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “It’s an inside joke—and Linh made this for me.”

  “Yeah, well, it still breaks the fan club rules. As penance, I’m getting you a tunic that says, Empaths Give Me All the Feels, and I expect to see you wear it twice as often as Bangs Boy’s.”

  Ro snorted. “Subtle.”

  “Ridiculous,” Sophie corrected.

  “I try,” Keefe told them as Sophie took his hand and let him pull her slowly to her feet.

  “You good?” he asked when she wobbled from the head rush.

  No. But she wasn’t going to admit that, so she told him, “I’m up.”

  “You are. It’s pretty amazing.”

  “Isn’t it?” Elwin asked as he emerged from his office and helped Sophie strap her arm into a sling. “Bring me back some butterblasts, okay?”

  “Done!” Keefe told him, bending his elbow to offer Sophie his arm, and after one brief second, she let him lead her toward the door. “TO THE SECRET CAFETERIA!”

  The halls were just as eerie as they’d been the night before, and Sophie tightened her grip on Keefe’s arm, trying not to think about shadowflux. But she could still feel that unsettling chill in the air.

  It might’ve been her imagination.

  Or it might’ve meant Tam was there training.

  Either way, she let out a relieved breath every time they turned another corner and found the next corridor to be quiet and empty.

  “So, you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?” Keefe asked as he guided her around a wide bend into a hall she actually recognized—the beginning of the Level Three wing.

  “I don’t know,” Sophie told him. “Are you going to tell me why you’re trying so hard to act like everything’s normal?”

  “What makes you think I’m acting?”

  “Uh, the last time I saw you, you’d just found out that your mom had some of your memories shattered. And then you ignored me the next day—and then told me you were close to a breakthrough with Tiergan. And now you show up the day after that, don’t mention it at all, and you’re in this, like, Ultra Knight in Shining Armor mode—”

  “Aw, you hear that, Ro? Foster thinks I’m her hero!”

  “I think you’re pretending to be,” Sophie corrected, “so I won’t notice the shadows under your eyes. Or these.”

  She reached for his hand and pointed to the faint bruises on his knuckles. “Been punching walls? Or people?”

  “The floor, actually,” Keefe admitted after a few seconds.

  Sophie stopped walking. “Okay, so what’d you learn that has you punching the floor?”

  He tilted back his head, staring at the mastodon banners hanging from the amber glass ceiling, which looked mostly gray in the moonlight. “I didn’t learn anything. That’s why I punched the floor. Tiergan helped me find this tiny pocket of hidden memories, and I thought—this is it! But . . . it was all random, useless fragments. A sunset. A couple of trees. A bunch of black fabric. Empty glass vials. Stuff like that. The only useful piece was a pair of green eyes. But they’re so blurry we can’t even tell if they’re from a guy or a girl or a kid or an adult.”

  “But you know they have to be human eyes,” Sophie reminded him.

  “Yep. That was my big breakthrough. A couple of blurry human eyes that could belong to literally anyone—plus a whole lot of proof that those memories are probably too smashed up to salvage.”

  “It’s still something,” she insisted.

  “I guess.” His eyes shifted to hers. “So is the fact that you’re up out of bed, walking around Foxfire—but it doesn’t feel like enough, does it?”

  “It doesn’t,” she agreed, her mind automatically skipping to all the recovery she still had ahead of her.

  But she shook those thoughts away.

  “It should, though,” she told him. “It’s still a victory.”

  And if they didn’t celebrate those small triumphs, they were going to drive themselves crazy.

  So she laced her gloved fingers with his and told him, “Come on. We both deserve some desserts!”

  • • •

  Foxfire’s secret “Mentors only” cafeteria turned out to be even more amazing than Sophie had imagined: throne-size chairs surrounding peaceful reflecting pools. Urns blooming with delicate flowers that filled the air with a sweet, spicy perfume. Soft, flickering lighting, and windows that overlooked the glass pyramid in the heart of campus.

  And, of course, an entire wall of glass cases filled with all kinds of fancy, colorful confections.

  It was kind of like going to a spa, but instead of kale and cucumber water, there was food people actually wanted to eat.

  Even Ro had no complaints, despite the definite presence of sparkles. She sprawled out on one of the chairs and worked her way through an entire tray of ripplefluffs.

  “Do I want to know how you found this place?” Sophie wondered as she finished off her third butterblast.

  “Of course you do,” Keefe told her. “But I never reveal my secrets.”

  “Even to me?” she asked, not sure where the question came from.

  Her cheeks burned as he studied her—and she didn’t want to admit that it stung when he said, “Yeah, Foster—even to you.”

  She shoved another butterblast into her mouth to save herself from having to respond.

  But when their eyes met again, his gaze had softened, and he whispered, “At least for now.”

  The words weren’t an invitation. They were an end to the conversation. And since Sophie wasn’t sure what they were talking about anymore, she left it at that.

  “Thank you,” she said as he walked her back to the Healing Center and she tried to make a note of the route so she could find the se
cret cafeteria again. “Tonight would’ve been . . . pretty rough if you hadn’t stopped by.”

  “I know,” he told her. “For me too.”

  “Awwwwwww, you guys are SO adorable,” Ro jumped in.

  “You want to talk about adorable,” Keefe snapped back. “I wrote another verse in The Ballad of Bo and Ro—and just think! Tomorrow, Foster finally gets to meet your long-lost love!”

  “Do not share that verse,” Ro warned, pretty much guaranteeing that Keefe would be chanting it to her for the rest of the night. But first she told Sophie, “Don’t tell him anything about me.”

  “Why not?” Sophie had to ask.

  “Because he doesn’t deserve to know.”

  Keefe leaned closer to Sophie, stage-whispering. “You realize it’s now your job to pester Bo for all the details Ro’s trying to hide from us.”

  Ro smirked. “Try it—Bo won’t tell you a thing.”

  “Wanna bet?” Keefe countered.

  “Bad idea,” Sophie told him. “You’ve won twice now—that means you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose. Especially since this bet relies on me again.”

  He grinned. “Exactly, Foster. You’re always the safe bet.”

  “Not this time,” Ro told him.

  “We doing this, then?” Keefe asked her.

  Ro folded her arms. “Fine. If I win, I get one guaranteed dare. I can tell you to do anything I want, and you have to do it.”

  Keefe raised one eyebrow. “Deal—but only if I get the same thing if I win.”

  Ro leaned into his face, flashing a deadly smile. “It’s on.”

  Sophie sighed, laying on the sarcasm nice and thick when she mumbled, “This can only end well.”

  • • •

  Keefe and Ro didn’t breathe a word about their new bet to Elwin when they dropped Sophie back at the Healing Center—and Sophie certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. He probably wouldn’t have to deal with the drama anyway. She’d be out of the Healing Center long before the winner and loser were decided.

  And it hit her then.

  She really was getting out of there.

  She really was going home.