Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(117)

“Kind of,” Fitz said. “It’s cool to feel what she’s feeling. But I still don’t see how this helps with telepathy.”

“Then stand up,” Mr. Forkle ordered. “Both of you. And put your hands on my temples. Don’t think. Just feel your way through my blocking—if you can.”

They stretched out their minds, and Fitz’s consciousness seemed to merge with Sophie’s as they moved almost like a dance, sweeping around barriers and sidestepping defenses. When Sophie’s excitement bubbled up, Fitz’s steadiness slowed her down, saving her from pushing into a trap. And when Fitz grew too impatient, Sophie was there to calm his mind before he rushed the wrong direction. They ducked and dipped and scuttled, until they reached a swarm of cold currents dragging them up while Sophie’s brain told her to keep fighting down.

Fitz struggled with her, and they’d almost fought their way through when she remembered what Mr. Forkle had told her about her abilities being deceived when she’d tried to read his mind before.

Maybe Fitz’s confidence made her more daring—or maybe she was crazy—but she told Fitz to let the cold currents drag them up and away, against their instincts.

When they did, they crashed through a prickly barrier and . . .

. . . Mr. Forkle’s thoughts filled their minds.

“WE DID IT!” Fitz shouted as Mr. Forkle scrambled to shut them out.

Sophie didn’t feel like celebrating.

A second later, Fitz’s smile collapsed as his brain processed what they’d both seen.

Sophie tried to warn him not to say anything—but he was already wheeling on Mr. Forkle to ask, “Why have you been meeting with Lord Cassius?”





FIFTY-SEVEN


YOU’VE BEEN TALKING to my dad?” Keefe shouted, his voice slicing around the cave.

Mr. Forkle mumbled something about not planning the exercise carefully enough, before he told Keefe, “Your father reached out to us after he found those maps in your mother’s possessions—”

“Wait—those were hers?” Keefe’s eyes narrowed at Sophie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I agreed to the meeting,” Mr. Forkle jumped in, “assuming he’d either found something else, or wanted an update on you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s been real worried about me,” Keefe muttered.

“Actually he has,” Mr. Forkle promised. “And he was incredibly relieved to know you’re safe.”

Keefe shook his head and turned back to Sophie. “I can’t believe you knew about this.”

“Only some of it,” she promised. “I didn’t know they’d met up in person.”

“I didn’t tell you that part,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “I knew how you would feel about it.”

“Why?” Keefe asked. “What did he want?”

Sophie could tell bad news was coming. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, a sour bubbling and churning.

Still, she never would’ve guessed Mr. Forkle would say, “He asked to join the Black Swan.”

“WHAT?” the three of them asked.

“Please tell me you laughed hysterically and kicked him out the door,” Keefe begged.

“I told him we had many concerns about his trustworthiness.”

That wasn’t the same as a no—and Keefe definitely caught it.

“You’re not actually considering letting my dad join, right?” he asked. “Because you realize that would be the dumbest decision in the history of dumb decisions.”

“I know your father is a difficult person, Mr. Sencen. And I do not agree with his parenting methods. But there are ways he could be useful—”

“Unbelievable!” Keefe shouted. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Nothing has happened yet. We are far from deciding. But . . . it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

Keefe laughed—a dark, angry sound. “You know what is outside the realm of possibility? Me staying here if you let him in.”

“He wouldn’t live here. He would maintain his identity in the Lost Cities.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Keefe,” Sophie tried.

He jerked away as she reached for his hand. “Uh-uh. You promised you weren’t going to hide anything from me.”

“I’m really sorry.” She glanced at Mr. Forkle, knowing she was about to make everything so much worse. But if she didn’t tell Keefe now, she’d never be able to tell him. “I was afraid if I told you, I’d have to show you your mom’s note. They found it when they found the maps, along with a kit to make leaping crystals like the ones we use at Exillium. Mr. Forkle gave it to me and I was saving it until we knew more about what happened to her.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” he snapped.

“I know. But I was worried about you. We’ve all been dealing with so much.”

“So lying to me is better?” He rubbed his head so hard it looked painful. “Seriously, what is happening?”

“Perhaps we should leave this cave,” Mr. Forkle suggested. “Away from the affect of the mold.”

“I’M NOT MAD BECAUSE OF THE FUNGUS—I’M MAD BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME.”