This was the trickiest part—the moment where everything could unravel.
Gethen had likely been trained to wait for some sort of code word in case of traps like this. And they were hoping all the excitement would have him thinking about the word. Sophie and Keefe needed to amp up the charade while Mr. Forkle plucked the code word from his mind.
Keefe shouted more commands in his mother’s voice, and Sophie set to work removing Gethen’s gag. The fabric was soaked with drool, and Sophie felt her stomach lurch as the slimy moisture coated her fingers. She wiped them on his wrist bonds as she removed those next, her eyes fixating on the crescent-shaped scar on Gethen’s hand. The mark had been a present from the dog Gethen used the first time he tried to kidnap her, and it had faded since the last time Sophie saw it.
Why did he get to heal, when the hurt he’d caused would never go away?
She was so focused on the scar, she hadn’t noticed that Keefe had come up beside her. So she jumped when he shouted, in Lady Gisela’s voice, “Polaris!”
Mr. Forkle nodded at Sophie, confirming that was a word he’d found in Gethen’s mind.
“Polaris,” Keefe repeated. When Gethen didn’t stir, he slapped Gethen’s face. “Didn’t you hear me? I said Polaris!”
Keefe went to hit Gethen again, but Sophie grabbed his wrist and pointed to Gethen’s hand, where two fingers had begun to twitch.
“That’s right,” Keefe said in his mother’s voice. “Wake up, we have to get out of here.”
Gethen moaned and thrashed, knocking off his blindfold.
Sophie had about three seconds to celebrate their victory. Then Gethen’s lips cracked with a smile as his eyes settled on her. “Sophie Foster. Just who I wanted to see.”
TWENTY-TWO
YOU DIDN’T HONESTLY think you could fool me, did you?” Gethen asked, laughing as Mr. Forkle scrambled to pull Sophie away from him. “Apparently you did. That’s hilarious.”
He tossed his blond hair out of his face, revealing a black eye from where Sophie had Sucker Punched him during his capture. His nose also looked swollen and crooked. Sophie hoped it was broken.
Her fingers curled into a fist—ready to pummel him again—when he told her, “Thank you for untying my hands. I probably should’ve waited until you’d untied my feet, too.”
“There’s no way you can escape,” Mr. Forkle said, motioning to the fire-scarred doorway. Half a dozen dwarves stood in a tight line with melders trained on Gethen’s head.
“Do I look like I’m trying to leave?” Gethen asked. “I honestly haven’t minded my visit here. I do my best thinking when I can tuck my consciousness away. I only came back because I couldn’t pass up a chance to chat with Miss Foster. Plus, I couldn’t take another second of your charade.” He turned to Keefe. “Your mother will laugh when she hears about your performance just now—though clearly some of her preparation has taken hold.”
“Preparation for what?” Sophie demanded.
Gethen’s smile dripped with ice. “Can’t ruin the surprise. He’ll find out soon enough.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I will, seeing as how my mom is dead.”
Sophie was stunned at how calmly Keefe delivered the news—almost as stunned as Gethen was to hear it.
“Another part of the trick?” Gethen asked.
Keefe leaned closer. “You tell me. Some gnomes saw her all cut up and bleeding and being dragged into the mountains near the Lake of Blood. We’re assuming the ogres had her killed because she let you get captured.”
“That does sound like something King Dimitar would do,” Gethen said quietly.
“You really think Lady Gisela is . . . ?” Sophie couldn’t say the last word.
Gethen stared at the ceiling. “How would I know? I’ve spent the last days locked away in my own mind. I told you I’d been trained for this.” He turned to Mr. Forkle. “I feel you poking around, by the way. Your telepathy isn’t nearly as clever as you think. Hers is, of course.” He winked his unbruised eye at Sophie. “Too bad she doesn’t know how to use it.”
“I know plenty,” Sophie snapped.
“STOP!” Mr. Forkle grabbed Sophie by her shoulders. “Do not—under any circumstances—attempt to read his mind. Do you understand me?”
“Forkle’s right. I can feel too much hope coming off him.” Keefe slammed Gethen into the wall and pinned him by his neck. “What were you planning to do to her?”
Gethen wheezed for breath.
“Let him go,” Mr. Forkle ordered.
Keefe hesitated before he dropped him. Gethen doubled over, clutching his throat as he hacked and coughed.
“You’d make this a lot easier on yourself if you’d just answer our questions,” Sophie told him. “Tell us what the Neverseen were doing in Brackendale.”
“Brackendale?” Gethen asked.
“Don’t play dumb. We found your stupid force field around the tree,” Keefe snapped.
Gethen’s brows shot up. “That is . . . unexpected.”