Marella looked anywhere but at Sophie as she asked, “What’s wrong with Keefe?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted.
Keefe didn’t seem to have a headache—which was a good sign. When Alden’s mind broke, he’d clutched his head and cried out in pain.
But guilt affected people in different ways.
“Elwin will be here soon,” Timkin said, stalking into the room, carrying a blanket. He froze when he noticed his daughter. “Where’s your mother?”
“She stayed to make sure no one noticed you taking them away.”
“Probably wise.” Timkin draped the blanket around Keefe and placed his palm over Keefe’s forehead to check his temperature. “I wish she’d kept you with her. I don’t want you involved in any of this—”
“Why not?” Stina asked. “If she can be a part—”
“Unlike others in the Black Swan,” Timkin interrupted, “I do not endanger children. Especially my children.”
Sophie had seen the look on Stina’s face many times, and fully expected a screaming match to follow. But after a second, she tossed her hair and stomped upstairs.
Marella turned to follow, and Sophie rushed to her side, taking her chance before her former friend could walk away.
“I’m sorry for anything I said before I left,” she mumbled.
Marella frowned. “Huh. I thought you were going to apologize for leaving without me.”
“I . . .” Sophie didn’t know how to finish her sentence. She’d never realized Marella would’ve wanted to go with her to the Black Swan. And . . . if she was being honest, she wouldn’t have ever thought to include her.
She liked Marella—she did. But she didn’t know her that well.
So she let Marella follow Stina upstairs, hoping Stina would be a better friend than she’d been.
“She’s better off,” Timkin said, echoing her thoughts.
“If you hate the Black Swan so much, why are you one of them?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t hate the Black Swan.”
Sophie snorted. “You’ve said nothing but horrible things about them.”
“Yeah, I always figured you’d join the Neverseen someday,” Dex added. “If you weren’t part of them already.”
Timkin smiled at that. “I’d wager you think anyone who dares not to like Miss Foster has allied themselves with evil. And truth be told, I still see no value in Project Moonlark. But our world needs change. And while I don’t agree with all of the Black Swan’s politics, I can agree that they’re the best chance we have of surviving. So if that means spending my days pandering to a group of children who will surely never live up to the Black Swan’s foolish expectations . . . so be it. I’m hoping to be proven wrong.”
Sophie sighed, marveling at Timkin’s gift to insult her in every possible way while still sounding logical. And she couldn’t fault him for doubting her capabilities. She often doubted them herself. Plus, she remembered what Mr. Forkle had told her about their world needing checks and balances. Why shouldn’t the Black Swan have similar voices of opposition?
She was spared from further musings by a familiar voice saying, “Look who’s back in the Lost Cities again and already needing a physician house call!”
She rushed to hug Elwin, grateful for a friendly face. And as he patted her shoulders, she felt her knots of panic loosen. Elwin would fix Keefe. Everything was going to be okay—if she didn’t think about the Neverseen and the gnomes and the million other catastrophes.
“Okay, let’s tend to the runner up for Most Frequent Patient,” Elwin said, turning his attention to Keefe. He flashed orbs of different color around Keefe’s face to examine him.
As the minutes stretched on, Sophie forced herself to voice her worry. “Could his mind be breaking?”
“I can’t tell,” Elwin admitted. “That’s doesn’t show up medically.”
“Then I’ll have to check,” Sophie whispered.
“Is that safe?” Dex asked.
“If I survived the madness in Exile, I should be up for this.” Still, her hands trembled as she reached for Keefe’s temples.
She braced for chaos and confusion, shards of memories and pockets of emptiness. Instead, Keefe’s mind looked like a long, shadowy hall, leading to a single memory.
The scene was cracked and distorted, as if the memory had been repressed—or damaged. Keefe was only a kid, no older than five or six, and he’d climbed the endless staircase in Candleshade, following his mother’s voice. He found her on the roof, standing in the moonlight, talking to two figures in black hooded cloaks. Keefe hadn’t recognized the voice when the taller figure spoke. But Sophie did.
Brant.
“We need to move up the timeline on the Lodestar Initiative,” he whispered.
“Why?” Lady Gisela turned to the other figure. “You said the girl had brown eyes.”
Sophie’s mind buzzed, realizing she had to be looking at the Boy Who Disappeared.
“But the real child is out there somewhere,” Brant jumped in. “If Alden finds her first—”
“We’re monitoring Alden closely,” Lady Gisela interrupted.