They both took one last look at Sophie, their eyes focused on her moonlark pin. Then they disappeared into the trees.
“Okay,” Keefe said, taking Sophie’s hands again. “You have to tell me what my mom’s done.”
Do you want me to talk to him? Fitz transmitted.
Sophie shook her head. Keefe was asking her.
I’ll be right inside if you need me, Fitz promised before he led the others away.
“Come on,” Sophie whispered, pulling Keefe toward a tree that had fallen by the river. The bark felt rough and damp, but she knew this was the kind of conversation that needed to happen sitting down.
“If she killed someone, just tell me,” Keefe whispered.
Sophie tangled their fingers together, squeezing so tight their knuckles faded to white. “It’s not about what she’s done, Keefe. It’s about what might’ve happened to her.”
Once she started, the story poured out, in every horrifying detail.
“But they haven’t found a body,” she finished. “So we don’t know anything for sure.”
Keefe stared blankly at the river.
“What are you thinking?” Sophie asked, when the silence turned suffocating.
“Strange question, coming from a Telepath.”
“You know I would never invade your privacy like that.”
Keefe sighed. “I’m thinking . . . she deserves to be dead.”
His voice meant the words. But his eyes didn’t.
“It’s okay to be sad, Keefe.”
“No it’s not—not after what she’s done.”
“She’s still your mom, no matter how angry you are.”
“I’m more than angry, Sophie. I’m . . . I don’t know what the word is. But I don’t care what happens to her.”
“Then why are you crying?” She reached up to wipe his cheek and showed him the tear on her finger.
“I . . .” The rest of his words twisted into a sob.
Sophie held him tightly, letting him soak the shoulder of her tunic with tears. She wondered if Fitz had felt this helpless when she’d done the same thing to him. He’d seemed so strong and steady that day, when he’d taken her from her human family. She wished she could be the same for Keefe.
“We don’t know anything for sure yet,” she repeated.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know what I’m rooting for.”
“You don’t have to root for anything. But as much as you hate her, part of you still loves her. So whatever happens, you’re going to have to grieve.”
“Not if I can help it.” Keefe pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy, but they seemed dry now as he turned back to the river.
“Want me to leave you alone?” Sophie asked.
Keefe nodded. “Actually, no. It’s not good for me to be alone right now. I’ll do something stupid. I need . . . I don’t know what I need. Just don’t go.”
Sophie stayed.
Keefe leaned his head against her shoulder and Sophie counted his breaths, considering what a strange thing grief turned out to be.
Grady and Edaline closed themselves off.
Fitz pushed everyone away.
She couldn’t figure out how Keefe was handling it all yet. But she was glad he wanted her to stay.
Their houses were dark by the time Sophie and Keefe returned from the river, and Keefe clung to her hand until the last possible second. She tried to think of something to tell him, something that might help him sleep. The best she could come up with was, “If you need me, throw something at my window.”
Keefe tried to smile, but it looked too painful. “See you tomorrow, Foster.”
Then he was gone.
The girls’ house was quiet when Sophie crept into the main room. She’d missed dinner and bedtime, but it didn’t matter. Eating and sleeping were definitely out of the question.
“How’s he doing?” Biana’s voice asked as soon as Sophie set foot in her bedroom.
She bit back her scream as Biana appeared in the shadows.
“Sorry,” Biana said. “I couldn’t sleep.”
She followed Sophie over to her bed and they both sat on the edge. Neither of them bothered to turn on the lights.
Sophie knew she should probably tell Biana everything was fine. But she went with the truth. “I think this is going to change him.”
“Me too,” Biana whispered. “So . . . what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “Somehow we’ll have to find out the truth. Keefe is going to need answers—or closure. In the meantime, we’ll have to keep him together.”
Seconds passed before Biana said, “I can’t believe the Neverseen would do that.”
Sophie couldn’t either, which was the scariest part. She’d known their enemies were dangerous, but this was a whole other level of evil.
Lady Gisela was one of their leaders, and they’d tortured her and imprisoned her—maybe murdered her. So what would the ogres and Neverseen do to them, if they were ever captured?
“Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?” Biana asked, the tremble in her voice hinting that she shared Sophie’s worries.