Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,114

boost your enhancing back up to that level.”

“New reset,” Amy repeated, tugging on Sophie’s arm to make Sophie look at her. “I think I missed that part when I was still recovering from the memory. Is that as dangerous as it sounds?”

“It’s worse,” Sandor told her, with a glare at Mr. Forkle to make it clear he was still bitter about the way his objections had been silenced earlier.

“Then you’re not going to do it, are you?” Amy asked.

“I don’t really have a choice,” Sophie admitted. “If I don’t let them reset me, I’m stuck with a broken ability—or two broken abilities, apparently.”

“The enhancing is only a theory,” Mr. Forkle reminded her. “And neither ability is broken.”

“Right. They just don’t do what they’re supposed to do,” Sophie argued as a dark laugh bubbled out of her chest. She turned back to her sister. “Remember Dad’s blue car? The one that was in the shop so much, he called it his Lemonmobile? That’s… me. Everyone loves to tease me about how often I end up in the Healing Center—and some of that is the Neverseen’s doing. But I swear the rest comes from the fact that I’m basically defective.”

“No, you’re not!” Mr. Forkle snapped, stalking closer with such intensity that Sophie shrank back, leaning on her sister. “I understand your frustrations, Miss Foster. And I’m not going to tell you how to feel. But I hope you also remember at least some of the incredible things that you—and only you—are able to do, as well as the tremendous things you’ve accomplished because of those powers. I realize it’s not easy being one of a kind. I also understand how natural it is to fixate on the negative, particularly in a moment like this, when you’re facing another complication. And I won’t deny that we’ve run into unexpected challenges. But none of that makes you defective. You… are my greatest success.” He stepped closer, reaching for her hands. “Never lose sight of how special you are, Sophie. You’re unique in a way that no one else ever can or will be—and only part of that comes from our experiments, by the way. The rest comes from you. From the bright, brave, brilliant girl you naturally are. And I hope you know that as far as all of us involved with your creation are concerned, you exceed our expectations every single day.”

The words were some of the most wonderful things that anyone had ever said to Sophie.

But for some reason, they only threw kindling on her anger.

Maybe she was tired and frustrated and sick of being manipulated.

Or maybe she just needed answers.

Either way, she finally snapped back with the question she’d been avoiding. “Does that include Councillor Bronte?”

Mr. Forkle frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The people involved with my creation,” Sophie clarified. “That includes Bronte, right?”

“Why would it?” Mr. Forkle asked.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to make me say it?” When he stayed silent, she sat up straighter, holding his stare as she said, “Fine. I know Bronte has to be my biological father.”

Amy sucked in a breath. “He’s the pointy-eared guy we rode the alicorns with, right? The one who let me keep my memories?”

Sophie nodded, not taking her eyes off Mr. Forkle, whose expression was as inscrutable as ever.

“Well?” she prompted. “Anything you have to say to that?”

He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should’ve realized you’d jump to that conclusion, given the rarity of his ability. And I won’t deny that I studied his DNA as I developed the tweaks I made to your inflicting. But that’s the full extent of his involvement in Project Moonlark—and he has no idea he was even a source of inspiration. I gathered the sample of his DNA without his permission and conducted all of my research without his knowledge.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that?” Sophie argued.

“I would hope so, since it’s the truth.” He looked away, shaking his head. “You’ve also met Bronte—and seen how he treated you and our order. Can you honestly see him agreeing to be a part of Project Moonlark?”

“I don’t know—that could’ve been his way of trying to cover up his involvement,” Sophie countered.

Mr. Forkle sighed and reached up to rub his temples. “It wasn’t. And I’m only going to say this one more time, Miss Foster: Councillor Bronte is not your biological father. So I need you to put that thought out of your mind—and call off any investigations you and your friends might be