“Just . . . something that might help Keefe when he wakes up.”
Mr. Forkle showed up later to take Dex back to Alluveterre. The Collective needed him to comb through the Lumenaria archive for any information on the Four Seasons Tree. He didn’t have much of an update, though he said most of the gnomes had decided to leave for Ravagog if the cure worked.
“But they’ll be slaves,” Sophie whispered.
All Mr. Forkle said was, “We’re working on alternatives.”
He leaped away then, taking Dex and leaving Sophie alone at Sterling Gables with the Hekses, Marella, and an unconscious Keefe. She couldn’t decide who was worse.
She stayed by Keefe’s side, even though it meant sleeping in a rather uncomfortable chair. Night stretched into morning, and Sophie began to realize how long twenty-four hours could feel. Vika brought her breakfast: sliced fruit that didn’t taste ripe, a sour reminder of how different things would be without the gnomes in the Lost Cities.
“Can’t you do some weird Telepath trick to fix him?” Stina asked when she checked on Keefe at lunchtime.
“Keefe’s mind isn’t broken,” Sophie said. “But I do keep checking his dreams.”
“Ugh, how creepy is that?” she asked.
“You can go now,” Sophie told her.
Stina stalked away, and Sophie figured that would be the last she’d see of her. But Stina brought her dinner.
“It shouldn’t be that much longer, right?” she asked as Sophie forced down a few bites of a purple root that was too mushy.
Sophie checked the time. “Should be about two hours. Any news on the gnomes?”
“My dad said the cure is working, so . . . that’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” Except it meant the gnomes really would be heading to Ravagog. She tried to imagine Calla serving King Dimitar, trapped in a land with no trees.
Stina sat on the floor and curled her long legs underneath her.
“Where’s Marella?” Sophie asked to break the silence.
“She went home hours ago—nice job noticing.”
“Um, I’ve been a little busy.”
“Yeah,” Stina said, “you always are. Why do you think she got sick of you?”
“Let’s not do this,” Sophie said. “I get it, you hate me. I don’t get why, but—”
“You really don’t know?” Stina interrupted, shaking her head. “The first time I saw you, you laughed at me. At Slurps and Burps, remember? You didn’t even know me. And you didn’t know Dex. But you sided with him, even though he’d turned me bald.”
It had been a little more complicated than that, since Stina and her mom had been incredibly rude to Dex and Kesler. But Stina was right. Laughing at someone going through a hard time was never nice.
“I’m sorry,” she told Stina. “I mean it. I am.”
More awkward silence passed until Stina stood. “I still don’t like you. But . . . I could change my mind if you find a way to fix this mess with the gnomes.”
“Gee, no pressure there.”
Stina shrugged.
She was halfway out the door before she added, “If you can’t do it, I don’t know who can.”
SIXTY-FOUR
WHEN KEEFE?’??S SEDATIVE finally wore off, Elwin declared him better. His cheeks had color again, and his eyes weren’t glazed over, and he could even answer all of Mr. Forkle’s questions.
But he wasn’t better.
Sophie tried to get him to talk after Mr. Forkle brought them back to Alluveterre, but he closed himself in his room.
“It’s not safe to talk to me,” he called through the door. “Apparently I’ve been reporting on my friends for years.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Sophie promised.
“Uh, yeah it does. For all I know, I’m the one who told the Neverseen that Fitz found you. Haven’t you wondered how Gethen knew to show up with that dog to try and grab you?”
“The only person who knew I found Sophie was my dad,” Fitz said, joining Sophie outside Keefe’s door. “I never told you.”
“Okay, fine,” Keefe said. “But I’m sure there were other times my mom had me spying on you.”
“?‘Spying’ implies intent, Keefe,” Sophie reminded him. “You were used.”
“Great. Because that makes it better.”
He stalked away from the door and stopped responding when they called to him. Even when Sophie tried to give him the gift she’d asked Elwin to buy. She had to settle for leaving it in the hall outside his door. She hoped he’d find it later, and the fluffy green gulon stuffed animal would make it easier for him to sleep.
“The revelations of yesterday have bruised deep,” Mr. Forkle warned her as she sulked to her room.
Sophie was more afraid they’d left a giant gaping wound that no amount of time could ever heal.
She kept replaying what she’d learned about guilt—how some elves reacted differently.
Based on what she knew about Keefe, she was pretty sure his response would be reckless.
“Going somewhere?” she asked from the shadows of the gazebo as Keefe tried to sneak down the stairs.