“Is it about his mom?” she asked, sinking into one of the chairs. She had a feeling this was the kind of conversation she wanted to be sitting down for.
“It is—but not in the manner you’re thinking. The news is about her past, not her present, and that’s why I’m sharing it with you. You seem to have a better sense of how Mr. Sencen is handling things, so I trust you to decide how we proceed from here. As you know, Councillor Oralie has been working with Lord Cassius, searching for clues to his wife’s Neverseen activities. And word has reached me that a few days ago they discovered a trunk hidden in Candleshade. I’m sure you can imagine how easy it would’ve been for the family to overlook it all these years.”
Sophie nodded. Keefe’s house had at least two hundred stories—but Sophie didn’t care about that. “What was in the trunk?”
“Lots of maps. The Council’s still working to determine their purpose. And a kit for making temporary leaping crystals, like the ones you use at Exillium. We’re assuming that’s one of the ways she slipped away to the Neverseen’s hideouts without anyone noticing.”
“And?” Sophie pressed, since none of that merited a private conversation.
“And . . . there was also a note. Lord Cassius wanted it returned to his son, so it found its way to me.”
He reached into his cape pocket and handed her a plain piece of paper that seemed too large for the tiny message scrawled at the top in loopy writing.
Dear Keefe,
I’m doing this for you.
Love, Mom
“So what are we going to do?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Tell Mr. Sencen? Or spare him?”
Sophie stared at the page, trying to decide what bothered her more: the word “love,” or all the blank space.
And she kept picturing the Keefe she’d seen in the physician’s tent, the angry scared Keefe lurking just under the surface.
But she’d promised Keefe she wouldn’t hide things from him, and this was a Very. Big. Thing.
“It’s not easy, is it?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Deciding how to protect someone you care about? I’m sorry to add this burden to you—especially after the day you’ve had. But I know you’re the one who will choose what’s best for him.”
Sophie sighed. “Can I think about it?”
“Take all the time you need. All I ask is that you warn me before you share it with him—if you decide to share it with him. Otherwise I’ll assume you’ve kept this to yourself.”
Sophie nodded and stumbled back to her room. She was up most of the night going back and forth, making up her mind and changing it the next instant.
Eventually, she tucked the note into her purple backpack in the cache’s old hiding place.
FORTY-NINE
ARRIVING AT EXILLIUM the next morning felt like a scene in a movie where the soundtrack scratched to silence and everyone turned to stare.
Fitz’s hand turned clammy in Sophie’s as the two of them stood together, with Keefe, Dex, and Biana flanking them on all sides.
They’d leaped to the middle of a sweltering desert, with the school’s tents scattered across the rolling dunes. Sophie saw no sign of the plague, but there was no life for it to contaminate. Not even a cactus or a scrubby bit of brush. Just endless dry sand, rippled by the wind and bleached white by the sun.
From the corner of her eye Sophie could see the Shade nod his approval, but she was too focused on the three Coaches stalking toward them, kicking up clouds of dust.
“So you’ve chosen the path of defiance,” the blue Coach said, his tone as heated as the air.
“We mean no disrespect,” Sophie told him. “Just like we meant none yesterday.”
“We were just trying to do the right thing,” Fitz added.
“And yet your ‘right thing’ disregarded our authority,” the red Coach said. “You understand the position this puts us in, don’t you?”
Sophie had a whole speech prepared, ready to shame the Coaches for their selfish lack of consideration. But as she studied the three figures in front of her—and the hoard of anxious Waywards gathered behind them—she realized the Coaches weren’t trying to be cruel. They were fighting an impossible battle, placed in charge of a group that even the highest authorities in the Lost Cities couldn’t control—without proper resources or backup to support their efforts.
They were simply struggling to keep their fragile hold.
“Sometimes the greatest power comes from showing mercy,” she told them quietly. “Especially to those who may not deserve it.”
The Coaches looked at each other, something silent passing between them.
“Aren’t we all hoping for a second chance?” Sophie added.
Several agonizingly long seconds crawled by before the red Coach nodded—only once, but the small movement was enough.
“Don’t make us regret this,” the blue Coach said.
“We won’t,” Fitz promised as the red Coach ordered everyone to disperse to their tents.
Sophie plodded through the sand, nearly losing her balance when her purple Coach came up beside her.