Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(135)

Keefe let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll wait until dawn.” His eyes found hers as he whispered, “For you.”

Sophie didn’t know what to make of the last part, but her heart flipped to hummingbird mode.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “I suggest you all head to bed. Is anyone willing to share their room?”

“Of course,” Sophie said, quickly adding, “I meant with Linh.”

“I guess I’ll take Alvar with me,” Fitz said.

“Actually, I’d rather bunk with Keefe.” Alvar turned to the group and whispered, “Fitz is a cuddler.”

“You can have my room,” Dex told Tam. “I’m going to stay up tweaking the wiring on these cubes—”

“No, Mr. Dizznee, you’re going to rest,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “You all are. Even you,” he told Calla, “at least take a few minutes.”

“I cannot rest while my people are suffering,” Calla argued.

Mr. Forkle decided not to argue. He shooed everyone else to their rooms, and Linh dozed off as soon as her head hit the pillow. But Sophie tossed and turned and tossed some more.

“You should be sleeping,” Calla said when Sophie tiptoed out to the main room.

Sophie sank into the shrubbery chair across from her. “I know. But I can’t rest while your people are suffering either.”

Calla set down the vest she’d been sewing, which looked exactly like the one Gethen had worn. She’d made eight others, though one was purple and had ruffles along the edges.

“Biana designed her own,” Calla explained. “I didn’t fight her since she can vanish. Plus, her design is fairly clever.” She lifted up the ruffles to show a row of carefully concealed goblin throwing stars.

Sophie traced her fingers over their shiny blades.

“You’re afraid,” Calla said quietly.

“Aren’t you?” Sophie asked.

“Mine is a different kind of fear. I don’t mind if something happens to me. But I fear for those I care about—especially you. I wish you would get the rest you need.”

She moved behind Sophie, combing her fingers through Sophie’s hair. “This was a trick my mother used when I was a little girl. Gnomish children must sleep when it’s dark, but I was a restless child. I took the needs of the forest very seriously. So my mother declared this my ‘tomorrow braid.’ As she wove it, she’d tell me to imagine anything I feared being drawn out of my mind and folded into the braid. That way those worries were tucked away for the night, but still waiting to bounce back as soon as I unbraided my hair in the morning. It’s why I still plait my hair—though now I do it to remember her.”

Sophie closed her eyes and tried to imagine her worries twisting with each careful weave Calla made.

By the time Calla was done, she was asleep.





SIXTY-SIX


ANY REASON WHY we’re not having the roots pull us to Ravagog?” Keefe asked as they fought through the cramped tunnel. “It would be way faster than walking.”

“The same reason we didn’t have the roots carry us to Exile,” Calla said. The brief pause in her song made the tunnel close tighter, and it tightened further when she added, “Roots this old only have the strength to carry us one way, and the escape will be far more crucial.”

She belted out the next verse to widen the tunnel again, and Sophie had to dry her eyes on her cloak sleeve. The lyrics officially won the prize for Most Depressing Gnomish Song Ever. Now Sophie knew why the legends had warned of embracing the heartache.

Their Exillium skills came in handy, allowing them to see through the darkness and stay cool despite the stuffiness of the tunnel. Sophie channeled energy to her muscles to keep moving steady, but she still battled exhaustion, especially when the tunnel started to slope up.

The longer they walked, the more the roots narrowed, as if the Four Seasons Tree was stretching as far as it could reach. When the roots were no thicker than gossamer threads, Calla announced that the surface was right above them and asked if she should sing open an exit.

“Let me go out first,” Alvar whispered. “I need to figure out where we are. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’ll go with you,” Biana offered.

“You should save your energy,” he said. “And I should take the Markchain to cover my scent.”

Sophie removed the silver pendant hanging from her neck and handed it to Alvar. She was still stunned Lady Cadence had agreed to loan it to them.

Tam had thought they shouldn’t bring it, worried the scent canceled his concealment. But Alvar insisted they needed to camouflage their smell as well as their appearance.

Calla sang a deep, low verse, which sounded more ominous than Sophie would’ve liked as the earth nudged open, letting in streams of greenish light.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Alvar said, turning invisible. The only sign that he’d left was the shifting dust as he climbed out of the tunnel, and the rustling of the roots as Calla closed the earth again.

Fitz offered everyone water from a magsidian flask Mr. Forkle had given him, and Keefe guzzled the whole thing. Fortunately, the flask had been carved to draw moisture out of the air and refill itself.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Linh warned. “There’s something wrong with the water.”