Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(72)

“But we’re going to stand close enough so we can eavesdrop, right?” Keefe asked.

Fitz flung a pillow and smacked Keefe in the head—then yelped, clutching his shoulder.

“Don’t make me restrain you!” Physic warned him. “And don’t you dare fling that pillow back!” she told Keefe as he lined up his aim.

Sophie was the last to leave the room, trying to guess why Dex wouldn’t look at her. Her theories evaporated when she entered the main room and found Mr. Forkle and Calla whispering.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Probably nothing,” Calla said, but the strain in her voice was too noticeable.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “I was unable to find Lur, Mitya, or Sior. I’m sending Calla to make a more thorough search.”

“Won’t she be exposed to the plague?” Sophie asked.

“I won’t surface unless the roots assure me it is safe,” Calla promised.

Keefe’s eyes darkened. “If anything happened to them because they were searching for my mother—”

“The two would have nothing to do with each other,” Calla promised.

When Keefe started to argue, Calla made her way to his side. Sophie couldn’t hear what Calla whispered to him, but his whole expression softened.

“I’ll be home soon,” Calla said, nodding to Sophie. “Try not to worry.”

“Here,” Physic said when Calla was gone. She handed Sophie a small green vial. “This will help you destress.”

Sophie sniffed the elixir. “This doesn’t have limbium in it, right?”

“Nope—I learned my lesson last time.”

“Last time?”

Physic adjusted her mask. “Oh, you know. The time we healed your abilities. I was consulted on the cure. Looks like we missed a spot with that scar on your hand.”

The story made sense, and Sophie would’ve accepted it—if Physic weren’t studiously avoiding her eyes.

Did that mean Physic was there for her other allergic reaction? The one the Black Swan had erased from her memory?

I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Forkle transmitted. And not because I’m invading your privacy. So in the interests of our newfound honesty . . . yes. Your theory is correct. And that is all I will say.

Thank you, Sophie transmitted back. He wasn’t giving her all the answers she wanted. But she could live with this compromise.

Further discussion was interrupted by Dex shuffling past. He headed straight for his room, but Sophie wouldn’t let him escape that easily. She caught him before he closed his door.

The floor of his room was strewn with gadgets and tools and things that could only be described as “doodads.” Dex kicked some aside to clear a path, mumbling, “You don’t have to check on me.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, how many times have you checked on me?”

“Yeah, but this is different.” He picked up what looked like a dismantled melder and started tweaking the wires.

“So what did you and Fitz talk about?” she asked.

Dex added a new gear to his contraption. “I told him I’m sorry.”

“What happened today wasn’t your fault, Dex.”

“It kinda was. But that isn’t why I’m sorry.” He added another wire to the gadget and it whirred to life, playing a tinkling musical sound. He let the notes play until the song came to an end. “I told him I’m sorry for hating him so much.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “That must’ve been awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“So . . . what did he say?”

“He wanted to know why.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“You can’t guess?”

She had one theory—but it would start a conversation she didn’t know how to finish. Plus, Dex had made it clear he was not a member of the Vacker fan club from her very first day at Foxfire, when Fitz didn’t remember Dex’s name.

“I know he wasn’t always nice to you,” she tried.

“He used to ignore me. And he’s just so perfect.” Dex sighed, pulling apart his new gadget and dropping the bits to the floor. “But . . . he’s not a bad guy. And he saved us today.”

It was the nicest thing Dex had ever said about Fitz, and Sophie could tell part of him only begrudgingly admitted it.

“So what did Fitz say?” she asked.

“He said we should be friends. And I said I’d try. And then he looked like he wanted to hug it out, so I bolted out of there.”

Sophie laughed. “Wow, you and Fitz—BFFs! That’ll be new.”

“He’s not my best friend. That spot’s already taken.”

“It is?” Sophie asked.

“Duh. Did you really think it changed?”

“I don’t know. So many things are changing.”

“I know,” he agreed quietly. “But that one won’t. Ever.”

She felt her lips stretch into the biggest smile she’d had in a long time. “Same. You know that, right? Best friends no matter what.”

“Does that mean we’re supposed to hug it out?” he asked.

“I . . . guess we could.” After the day they’d had, a hug sounded pretty good.