Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(57)

“I do.”

Sophie couldn’t tell if that was a statement or a question.

“Try to rest,” she told him. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’m done cleaning up.”

Keefe opened his mouth to argue but the words were swallowed by a yawn. He crawled into bed and buried his face in his pillow. Sophie resisted the urge to tease him about drooling.

It took her longer than she’d expected to de-serial-killer his room. But by the time she’d pulled down the last note, Keefe’s breathing had slowed. She listened to the rhythmic sound as she stacked the tattered pages together, wishing she could clear away his worries as easily as she could clear away the scraps.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she turned to leave. “You deserve them.”

Keefe didn’t move, and his breathing stayed steady. But when she turned off the lights, she could’ve sworn his lips were smiling.


“How troubled is he?” Mr. Forkle asked, giving Sophie a minor heart attack as she entered the boys’ main room. He stood by the fire pit, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

“Mr. Sencen,” he clarified. “How concerned should we be?”

“What do you mean by ‘concerned’?” Sophie asked.

“You did see the state of his room just now, yes?”

Sophie looked away. “I took down all the notes, so hopefully that’ll let him sleep. And he agreed to let me search his memories and record them.”

Mr. Forkle traced his fingers along his chin.

“Do you think we’re going to find a clue about the Neverseen in his memories?” she asked, the words so quiet she could barely hear them.

“It seems likely. No one keeps up a pretense perfectly. In fact, I’ve made several slips I’m stunned you didn’t catch.”

“Like what?” Sophie asked.

A smile was all he gave her.

“I’m also inclined to believe Gethen wasn’t exaggerating about the Neverseen having plans for Mr. Sencen. He’s a very talented boy. But as for whether we’ll find clues . . . well . . . searching an entire lifetime is a daunting task. Either way, I’m counting on you to keep me informed of anything concerning—and by ‘concerning,’ I mean anything relating to our fatal flaw. You’ve likely heard of the concept in your human studies. Elves all bear the same one.”

“Arrogance?” Sophie guessed.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t look at me as you said that. And that is a vice. Our fatal flaw is guilt. We all react to it in different ways. In Mr. Sencen’s case, it appears to have set him on a quest for understanding. Such quests often end at a crossroads, and should that be the case I cannot say which path Mr. Sencen will choose.”

“You realize that makes zero sense, right?”

He shrugged. “Let us hope it remains that way. But keep your eyes open to warning signs. And be sure to get some rest. Tomorrow will be very . . . complicated.”





TWENTY-SIX


DON’T SCREAM,” A deep voice told Sophie as she passed through the breakfast area on her way for another early morning river walk.

Of course she screamed—but who wouldn’t scream if they found a strange figure lurking in the shadows? Especially if that figure happened to look like a giant two-legged poodle?

Curly white fur covered his body, leaving only his dark blue eyes and pink lips exposed.

“W-who are you?” she whispered.

The poodle figure rubbed his furry arms. “Apparently my code name is Coiffe.”

“I hope that means you’re part of the Black Swan,” Sophie said.

“Would I be here if I weren’t?” He stepped closer and she backed up. “If I meant to harm you, Sophie, I would’ve grabbed you when you entered the gazebo. I had plenty of time, and I’m much stronger than you.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“Yes.” He scratched his shoulder, then his chest, then his arms and legs. “Argh—I swear I’ve picked up ichrites in this infernal fur.”

“Ichrites?” Sophie asked.

“A type of insect that feeds on unicorn blood.” He leaned against the post of the gazebo, rubbing his back like a bear scratching on a tree. “My involvement with the Black Swan is usually more hands off. But today I must play babysitter, so I get to be this.” He waved his hands at his fur before going back to scratching, and Sophie got a feeling she wasn’t going to be a fan of Coiffe.

“Sophie?” Dex shouted, racing down the stairs two at a time. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”

Fitz and Biana were right behind him, with Keefe a few steps farther back. They froze when they spotted Coiffe.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Fitz asked.

“Is that a guy?” Dex added.

“He says he’s with the Black Swan,” Sophie told them.

“Couldn’t anyone say that?” Fitz asked.

Coiffe rolled his eyes and pulled a monocle pendant like theirs out of the curls of his fur. “Happy now?”

“Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any weirder,” Biana mumbled.

Dex moved closer to Coiffe and squinted at his fur. “What’d you do, mix a bunch of Curly-dew with Macho-Macho and a couple drops of Body Warmer?”