Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(86)

“Only for his final weeks, so he could graduate with his class,” Granite said. “It was a rather strange case. Perhaps someday Timkin will share the story with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll have me over for lushberry juice and mallowmelt,” Sophie mumbled. “Right after he tells me to call him Uncle Timkin.”

The Heks family included most of Sophie’s least favorite people in the Lost Cities. Their daughter Stina was one of the biggest brats at Foxfire, and both her parents had spread more slander about Sophie than anyone.

“You might be surprised,” Granite insisted. “Timkin has a challenging personality, no doubt about that. But you both see problems with the Council’s current methods. And perhaps you may understand him further after your time in Exillium.”

Sophie seriously doubted that.

She also didn’t want to think about what the Hekses must be saying about her. Stina had predicted she’d end up in Exillium, and now here she was, with “Sophie Elizabeth Foster” printed across an Exillium registration form, along with her height, weight, hair color, eye color, and all kinds of other personal information.

“Why does it say my address is the Crooked Forest?” Keefe asked.

“They all say that,” Mr. Forkle explained. “They needed to know where you’d be going after you left campus. We could hardly mention Alluveterre, so Calla will meet you in the Crooked Forest every day and escort you home.”

“That’s not in the Neutral Territories, right?” Sophie asked, worried about the plague.

“No, it’s actually in the Forbidden Cities,” Mr. Forkle said. “It’s one of those ‘unsolved mysteries’ humans are always spinning out wild theories for. Calla requested it specifically.”

He passed them each a leaping pendant with an oval crystal cut with only a single facet. Sophie tied it around her neck along with her Exillium bead. She was getting quite the necklace collection.

“How come Foster’s form says ‘et cetera’ on the line for special abilities?” Keefe asked, making Sophie wonder when he’d grabbed her pages. “On mine it says ‘Empath.’ But on hers it lists the four and then has an ‘et cetera.’ That means she has more hidden abilities, doesn’t it?”

“You cannot read too much into a simple ‘etcetera.’?” Mr. Forkle told him.

“Psh, with you guys we can,” Keefe insisted as Sophie snatched her forms back. “And please tell me she’s not a Beguiler—that would get way too complicated.”

Keefe kept listing talents he hoped Sophie did or didn’t have and Sophie knew she should probably be listening. But her eyes had found a much more life-changing line on her form.

Written in clear block letters, on the line designated for the names of her family.

MR. ERROL L. FORKLE.





FORTY


SOPHIE SCOOTED BACK her chair, needing room to breathe.

There’d been a time when she’d wondered if Mr. Forkle could be her real father, but somewhere along the way she’d shoved the thought out of her mind. She couldn’t imagine her real father would experiment on her, or abandon her as many times as he had—not to mention looking her in the eye every time he saw her and never saying anything.

“You?” she asked Mr. Forkle. “All this time it was you?”

A pucker pressed between his brows. Then understanding dawned. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Who does she think he is?” Biana asked as Fitz snatched Sophie’s forms.

His jaw fell. “He’s . . . her father.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why would you list yourself as family?” Fitz asked.

“Because I am family. My name is the one on her Inception Certificate. Someone had to vouch for her existence. And since her genetic parents couldn’t reveal themselves, I took the responsibility. Though of course I had to use an assumed identity. But Mr. Forkle is still me.”

“Why the secrecy?” Della asked. “Can’t she know her family?”

Granite and Mr. Forkle shared a look.

“Someday you may understand,” Mr. Forkle told Sophie. “But for now I can at least assure you—as I did with your concerns about Jolie—that I am not your genetic father.”

Keefe grabbed Mr. Forkle’s wrist. “He’s telling the truth. And . . . he actually feels kinda bad about it.”

“Of course I do! Project Moonlark may have been unconventional. But I am your family. And you are mine.”

His voice cracked as he said the last sentence, and he turned away, wiping his eyes.

Was he . . . crying?

I’m aware of the offenses you hold against me, he transmitted. And I won’t claim I don’t deserve them. But I need you to know that I do care about you, Sophie—as much as I can allow myself to. And you may not want to believe this, but your genetic parents care too. They have incredibly important reasons for remaining anonymous—but that does not mean they don’t wish they could be a part of your life.

Have I ever met them? Sophie transmitted back.

I can’t tell you that—and I’m begging you to stop guessing. Should you finally settle on the correct answer, you will trigger a chain reaction that could topple our world.