Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,159

our Mysterious Lady F immediately!” Keefe called out behind her, and when Sophie spun around, she found him striding up the path along with Ro.

His eyes darted to the sparkly silver letters shimmering across her tunic, and she could tell he wanted to make some sort of snarky comment.

But he held off, as if he didn’t feel right making any Tam-Slams at the moment.

Instead, he turned to Biana and said, “Did I hear something about an exploding chandelier—because that’s a story I need to hear.”

“Uh, yeah!” Ro added.

Biana gave a brief retelling, and Keefe smirked at Sophie. “That sounds like our Lovely Lady F—can’t take her anywhere without her trying to blow something up.”

“Uh, excuse me, the explosion was Wylie’s doing, not mine,” Sophie argued. “And Biana was the one who suggested we search the Grand Hall.”

“And it’s a good thing I did!” Biana noted.

“It was,” Sophie agreed. “We’ll have to check in with Nubiti tomorrow and see if she found anything else.”

“No, we’ll have to check in with Nubiti tomorrow,” Biana corrected, gesturing to herself and Stina. “You will be getting lots of rest.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done this before, remember?”

“Uh, yeah, and as someone who was there the last time you did this and saw you rocking the whole sweaty, slightly green look, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna need to chill for a bit, there, Ms. Go-Getter,” Keefe cut in. “Especially since they’re probably not going to let you take any painkillers for the first twenty-four hours.”

“I forgot about that,” Sophie admitted, becoming very interested in kicking a couple of fallen Panakes blossoms. “Why does almost dying have to be the worst?”

“Pretty sure the answer’s in the name,” Biana said gently.

“So let’s rename it!” Keefe suggested, making his way over to Sophie and draping his arm across her shoulders. “From now on, any time there’s a disaster, we’ll say, ‘Wow, we almost Fostered it!’ ”

Sophie rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Keefe insisted. “We’ll make it your big claim to fame!”

“So, when you challenged King Dimitar to a sparring match and he sliced a huge gash under your ribs…,” Sophie challenged.

“I totally Fostered it!” Keefe finished without missing a beat. “And when you projectile vomit all over the Councillors today, you’ll be Fostering it hardcore—”

“And some of us are super looking forward to that, by the way!” Ro cut in. “I’m just wishing I’d thought to bring snacks.”

“I can’t believe you’re joking about this,” a familiar accented voice snapped behind them, and Keefe dropped his arm and backed away as Sophie slowly turned around, and…

There was Fitz.

Or rather, there were Fitz’s shoes—right next to Grizel’s big goblin feet—because that was all that Sophie had the courage to actually look at for the moment.

A painful stretch of silence followed.

Then Fitz’s feet moved closer, and Sophie noticed that Grizel’s feet stayed where they were and all the other feet around her quietly shuffled away, leaving her feet and Fitz’s feet alone.

She held her breath, trying to brace for whatever Fitz was going to say.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just wrapped his arms around her—gently at first.

Then hugging her so much harder.

Like he was afraid to let her go—and maybe he was. Because his voice filled Sophie’s head, his consciousness slipping past all of her barriers so he could tell her, I know you’re trying to stop yourself from worrying too much—but I can’t laugh about this, Sophie. This is serious.

I know, she told him, digging her head deeper into the nook between his shoulder and neck and realizing how much she’d missed him—and how lucky she was that he still wanted to hold her like this after all the time she’d spent neglecting him. But it’ll be fine. Mr. Forkle said that he and Livvy have been researching the treatment for a while. And they’re going to give me way less limbium than they gave me the last time.

I still wish you didn’t have to do this, he told her.

Me too. But… I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when one of my abilities is broken.

It’s not BROKEN, he argued. Mr. Forkle told me he’s just trying to make it fancier, the way they designed it to be or whatever.

That’s part of it—but… I almost took out everybody in Loamnore today because the dwarves’ defenses made me get all rage-y. And think of how many other times I’ve messed everything up with my inflicting. Like that day at Grizel’s training camp—if I hadn’t—

DON’T, Fitz interrupted. Don’t you dare blame yourself