“Like . . . I’ve distracted you long enough. The time has come!” He sang the words, fist-pumping the air before dragging her and Sandor outside to the cliffs. “Game faces on, everyone! That goes for you too, grandma. Channel your inner grumpy old lady.”
Sandor raised his cane like he was considering clubbing Keefe over the head with it.
“Perfect!” Keefe told him, pulling them closer to the edge. “And hey, I just realized—this is your first time teleporting, isn’t it, Gigantor?”
Sandor nodded, staring at the crashing waves below. “I have a feeling I’m not going to enjoy it.”
Keefe laughed. “Don’t worry—Foster’s got this. The jump is the hardest part.”
But Keefe was wrong.
The jump was just the beginning.
Mr. Forkle was waiting for them. Sitting in the center of his lawn, looking as puffy and wrinkled as ever while he rearranged the remaining garden gnomes into a circular pattern.
The scene was so familiar, Sophie almost wondered if they’d gone through space and time. But then she saw the boarded-up windows and the overgrown grass, and wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.
“You kids,” Mr. Forkle grumbled, starting with his favorite phrase. “Late to your own meeting.”
He pointed to the sky, where the last rays of sunlight were sinking below the horizon.
“Hey, at least we showed up,” Keefe reminded him. “That’s more than you can say.”
Mr. Forkle studied him, his expression both smug and amused. “You needn’t have bothered with the costumes. There are enough obscurers here to erase this place from existence. We’re the only ones who know we’re here—for now, at least.”
“You think the Neverseen will find us?” Sophie asked, glancing up and down the street.
“Neverseen?” Mr. Forkle asked.
“That’s the name I found written in runes on the patches of their sleeves.”
“Interesting.” He moved two of the gnomes outside the circle and craned his neck to study the sky. “And yes, I do expect the rebels to make an appearance. But I also expect them to leave us alone.”
“How can you be so sure?” Sandor demanded as he threw off his disguise and straightened to his full height.
“Because”—Mr. Forkle tapped the nose of one of the gnomes and the air shimmered around them—“I just put an impenetrable energy field around us. It’ll only last ten minutes, but that should be enough time. Bet you thought I was just a crazy old man, playing with my gnomes.”
“Kinda,” Keefe admitted.
“So, the gnomes weren’t a code?” Sophie asked.
“They were many things, depending on what I needed. Twelve years was a very long time to be separated from my world, and these ridiculous statues were all I had to remind me why I was here.”
“Why were you here?” Sophie asked quietly.
His eyes met hers, sharp and clear—yet somehow impossibly ancient. “You are my greatest achievement, Sophie.”
There was a softness to the words. A warmth. But the words were still wrong.
“That’s all I am to you—an achievement?”
“What more would you like?”
She didn’t have an answer.
“I know you have questions, Sophie. Do not expect me to give you all the answers. We haven’t the time and you haven’t the stomach. So here’s what I can tell you. I chose this house—this place—these people to protect you, nurture you, keep you safe and hidden and allow you time to become what you needed to be. Of course, I never intended for the rebels—these Neverseen—to find you when they did, but—oh don’t sound so surprised,” he added when she gasped. “Surely you’ve figured most of this out already?”
“How could I?”
“Simple deduction. You really think we would set fires in the shape of our sign, just to catch Alden’s attention?”
“I guess not,” she mumbled. She’d known the Black Swan weren’t behind the Everblaze, but hadn’t thought much about the first white fires, which had already been burning when Fitz arrived.
Mr. Forkle sighed, filling the air with the scent of dirty feet—a side effect of his ruckleberry disguise. “Somehow the Neverseen knew you were here. They just didn’t know precisely where. So they lit the fires to flush you out, taunting us with our own symbol—and framing us in the process. That’s when I sent the newspaper article to Alden—the one that led him to you so he could take you away. It was earlier than we’d planned, but I needed to keep you safe, and I thought they’d give up once the eyes of the Council were upon you. But obviously . . .”
“You were wrong,” Sophie finished.
“It happens sometimes,” he agreed.
“Like our last meeting?” Keefe jumped in. “Or were we really your bait?”
Mr. Forkle became very focused on rearranging his gnomes as he told them, “We saw an opportunity to catch some of our enemy and we took it. And it would’ve worked if Sophie hadn’t seen them too early and had Sandor chase them away.”
“Well, maybe if you’d told us what you were planning!” Sophie snapped.
“You would’ve been willing to sit back, pretending nothing was happening while the enemy closed in?”
“I’ve taken bigger risks, haven’t I?” She pointed to the star-shaped scar he’d given her.
“Another of my mistakes,” he whispered. “If I’d understood human medicine better . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sophie said, thrown by the concern in his voice. “My point is, you should’ve been working with me, not cutting me off, like you have been for the last few weeks.”
“We had our reasons.” He pulled a small black bottle from his pocket and uncorked the stopper. “We needed to understand how the Neverseen found our ocean base. And we have finally figured out the answer.”
“Hey—what are you looking at me for?” Keefe asked.
“Both times the Neverseen tracked Sophie down, she was with you.”
“What about Paris?” Sophie reminded him. “And the cave? And here? Remember the jogger?”
“Those times were different. They were before we were taking so many precautions. Before we realized how far our enemy was willing to go.”
“Uh, that may be—but I didn’t betray anyone,” Keefe argued.
“I never said you did it intentionally,” Mr. Forkle told him as he poured a fine silver dust into his hand. “But that doesn’t mean you weren’t unwittingly responsible. We disabled both of your registry pendants, and all of Sandor’s trackers before our last meeting. But there was one signal we couldn’t remove.”
He flicked his wrist, showering Keefe with the fine, gritty powder.
Keefe coughed and rubbed his eyes, and Sophie reached forward to help him.
But she froze when she noticed Keefe’s hands.
All of his fingers were glowing bright red.
FIFTY-FIVE
BUT . . . MY SKIN’S BEEN MELTED off,” Keefe argued, staring at his glowing hands like they couldn’t possibly belong to him. “Twice.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Forkle said quietly, “because the homing device is still in your possession. That’s how the Neverseen have been finding you. Not because of any leak on our end, which was as I’d suspected. But I had to be sure.”
He turned to Sophie, pouring more reveldust into his palm. “I’m sorry, but I have to check you, too. And Sandor.”
Sophie nodded, holding her breath as he blasted her with the fine powder, then did the same to Sandor. She counted to thirty, wishing with every breath that she wouldn’t see the telltale glow. And for once her wish was granted.
Sandor was clear as well.
“Just as I thought,” Mr. Forkle said, recapping the vial. “Sandor’s methods are far too thorough to keep an ogre device around—even if he can’t smell it. Which makes Keefe the perfect target.”
“Where is it?” Sandor asked, grabbing Keefe and patting him down.
“You won’t find anything
,” Mr. Forkle warned him. “Otherwise we would’ve seen a brighter glow. But remember, Keefe is not wearing his regular clothes.”
“Regular clothes?” Keefe repeated, still staring at his glowing hands. “I don’t have any regular clothes—except my Foxfire uniform, and I wasn’t wearing that either of the times we were ambushed.”
“So what were you wearing?” Sandor asked.
“It would likely be an accessory,” Mr. Forkle added. “Something you always wear, regardless of the outfit. Like a pendant or a nexus—”
“Or a pin,” Sophie whispered, afraid to meet Keefe’s eyes.
Keefe backed a step away. “No. That . . . there has to be a mistake.”
Sophie swallowed, trying to think of anything else it could be.
But the Sencen family crest fit perfectly.
Hadn’t his dad only given it to him recently? And now that she thought about it . . . hadn’t he given it to him after he found out Keefe was working on something with her?
“No,” Keefe said again, shaking his head so hard it looked painful. “My dad’s a jerk—but he’s not that. He wouldn’t . . . I mean—these are the people who tried to kill you. And Dex. And me. He couldn’t . . . could he?”
“There is one way to know for sure,” Mr. Forkle said, offering him the vial of reveldust. “But there is one very important thing you must keep in mind. If I am right—as I suspect that I am—you cannot let your father know that you are on to him. You cannot let anyone know that anything is different—and this goes for you as well,” he told Sandor and Sophie. “Not Alden. Not your guardians. No one must know.”
“Why?” Sophie asked.
“Because we have a far better chance of Lord Cassius guiding us to the Neverseen’s leader if he does not realize he’s a suspect.”
“How do you know he’s not the leader?” Sandor asked, looking ready to perform a one-goblin raid on Candleshade.
“Because their leader is a Pyrokinetic. He left his burns on Sophie’s wrists—burns that took me nearly an hour to treat.”
“An hour?” Sophie repeated.
She’d figured he’d treated them while she was unconscious on the Paris street, after he’d triggered her new abilities. But she’d never imagined he’d stayed an hour.
“I’ve never seen anything so vile,” Mr. Forkle said, his voice suddenly thick. “And I vowed that day to do everything in my power to make sure he pays for his crimes. Which is why I will need you to pretend, Keefe.” He pulled a different vial out of his pocket—blue this time, with an atomizer—and spritzed a shimmering mist on Keefe’s hands.
Instantly the red glow dimmed, and within a few seconds his skin was back to normal.
“The aromark is still there,” Mr. Forkle warned him. “I’ve only neutralized the reveldust, so no one will know that you’ve discovered it. You’ll need to do the same to your pin—if it does indeed glow red. Can you do that? Can you keep this secret until the optimal time?”
He offered both vials to Keefe.
Keefe backed away, covering his face with his hands and shaking so hard Sophie had to hold him steady.
“My dad’s an Empath,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to do this? How is this even happening?”
“If it’s true, you lie to him the same way you lie to any Empath,” Mr. Forkle told him. “You use one lie to cover another.”
“What lie?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, what lie, indeed?” Mr. Forkle wandered the yard, staring at his swollen feet as they squished in the soggy grass. He’d passed them three times before he said. “We’ll use Silveny.”
“We’ll use Silveny how?” Sophie asked, not willing to put the precious alicorn at risk—even for something as important as this.
“She won’t actually be involved. We’ll just make them think she is—since we know the Neverseen are interested in her. Actually, this is brilliant.” He moved toward Keefe, prying him away from Sophie. “I know I am asking an extremely difficult thing. But this could be the lead we’ve been waiting for. If you tell your father that the Black Swan have asked you to help move Silveny to a top secret location, it will explain why you seem nervous and distracted and give us a perfect way to trap him.”
“Trap him?” Keefe sounded like he was going to be sick.
“Yes, trap him, Keefe. And as many of his fellow rebels as we can. We’ll make them think we’re giving them the opportunity to steal Silveny that they’ve been waiting for. But the whole situation will be rigged to catch them.”
“So Sophie and Keefe get to be your bait again,” Sandor interrupted.
“I don’t care about that,” Sophie jumped in. “I care about Keefe. Look at him!”
Keefe had sunk to a crouch, cradling his head in his hands.
“Could you do what you’re asking of him?” she asked Mr. Forkle as she squatted beside Keefe, holding him steady. “Could you betray your own father?”
“I’ve done far worse,” Mr. Forkle whispered. “The right road is rarely the easy road. And no war was ever fought without casualties.”
“Is that what this is?” Sophie asked. “A war?”
“Unfortunately, yes. A quiet war, to stop a louder one from raging. You may hate me for asking this of him, but it is the cold reality we all face. We cannot control the actions of others, nor stop them from disappointing us. We can only use the anger and pain to fuel us. To rise above.”
The harsh words hardly seemed like the pep talk Keefe needed. And yet, Keefe stood, his jaw set and his eyes dry of tears.
His hand shook as he took the vials Mr. Forkle offered him. But his voice was steady as he said, “I guess it’s time to go.”
Mr. Forkle grabbed Keefe’s hand as he reached for his home crystal. “Go only if you’re sure you can handle it.”
“I can handle it.” Keefe took a deep breath and turned to Sophie. “I’m going to make this right, okay?”
“It’s not your fault, Keefe.”
“I’m still going to fix it. Whatever he’s done—I won’t let him get away with it.”
“Even though it’s your father?” Sandor asked, still looking like he wished he could be the one to drag Lord Cassius away.
“Especially because it’s him.”
“You’ll need to confirm that we’re right,” Mr. Forkle said as Keefe raised his crystal up to the glow of a streetlight. “If it’s true, tell Sophie ‘swan song.’ She’ll pass the message to me and I’ll get back in touch with the details of our plan. We’ll need to move quickly—no more than a week. Hiding the lie any longer would be impossible.” He moved closer, taking Keefe by the shoulders. “This will be the hardest week of your life, but I’m confident you will survive it. I saw you face down the rebels at the entrance to our hideout—you wore a look of absolute determination. You must call on that emotion again. And remember what we’re fighting for.”
Keefe nodded.
“Wait—what if it’s not true?” Sophie jumped in. “Then what does he say?”
“It’s true, Sophie,” Keefe whispered. “What else could it be?”
“I don’t know. But we’ve been wrong before. What’s the code word for ‘it’s a mistake’?”
“No code word needed,” Mr. Forkle decided. “Just call another meeting, since I’m sure there will be much to say.”
Keefe shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. It’s fine, Sophie. I’m sure once this is all over I’m going to need an epic-level freak out. But for now . . . I’m okay.”
Mr. Forkle moved one of the gnomes, making the air shimmer again as Keefe gave Sophie a heartbreakingly sad smile and glittered away.
“He’s not okay, you know,” Sophie told Mr. Forkle, shattering the silence that followed.
“Of course he’s not. Are any of us?”
He gathered the gnomes, moving them back to the weed-filled planter and lining them up perfectly straight. Like soldiers.
“Why ‘swan song’?” Sophie asked.
She knew what the phr
ase meant to humans, but she was hoping it meant something different to the elves.
“It’s a tradition among our group, going back to our earliest days. We knew the course we’d chosen would involve hardship. So we decided that any time one of us was forced to take a great risk or make a large sacrifice, we would alert the others by declaring it our swan song. That way we all knew to brace for very bad days ahead.”
A lump caught in Sophie’s throat and she cleared it away to ask, “Have you ever called it?”
“Many times. Many ways.”
He moved one gnome, separating it from the others.
“Prentice called his the day before he was captured,” he added quietly. “I still haven’t figured out how he knew it was coming.”
“The Council’s never going to approve his healing now. You realize that, right?” Sophie whispered.
“Yes. We’ve been expecting the same thing. And we’d been working on a plan. But after your incident with King Dimitar”—he muttered something under his breath that started with “you kids”—“we’ve put that plan on hold. Best to let the dust settle before stirring anything up again. Besides, we have more urgent things to focus on. You’re going to have to keep a very close eye on Keefe. The guilt and rage he will experience over the course of the week is going to be life changing. He will need a steady friend.”
Sophie nodded.
“Time to go, then.”
“Wait!” Sophie called as he pulled out a noticeably blue pathfinder. “What about Jolie?”
“What about her?”
“I . . . I need to know who she was.”
“She was Grady and Edaline’s daughter.”
“No—that’s not what I mean.” She took a deep breath for courage and shoved the words out. “I need to know who she was to me.”
“To you?” He stepped closer, leaning down so they were face-to-face. “You think she’s your mother.”
“Is she?”
He glanced behind him, checking the still-empty street before he told her, “No.”
The crushing relief nearly knocked Sophie off her feet.
“Do not bother asking me who your mother is—that is one piece of information I cannot share.”
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