Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,198

words were a weary sigh, and Sophie’s anger surged back.

WHY WOULD YOU BURY THAT?

Far, far away she felt Keefe give her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze—which only added to her rage.

He deserved so much better.

You have no idea what he deserves, Lord Cassius argued, and Sophie wasn’t sure if she’d transmitted the thought or if he’d read the emotions coursing through her. Everything I withhold is for his own good. Love… convolutes things. If your creators had made you an Empath, perhaps you would understand that—though it’s strange. Your mind focuses on feelings far more than any Telepath I’ve ever encountered. The way you homed in on that emotion just now—it was almost a fusion of our abilities. I can’t tell if that was taught to you or if it’s somehow inherent or…

His thoughts cycled through possibilities, and for a second Sophie was right there with him, wondering if Mr. Forkle had trained her mind to work differently than others’, or if it was because she manifested so young—and grew up around humans—or if it was the result of some small tweak to her genetics.

And then she realized…

You’re not going to distract me, she told him. What do you mean by “love convolutes things”?

A dark rumble shook everything around her. I mean exactly that. And if you don’t believe me—ask the question everyone’s been whispering since Gisela was outed.

It took Sophie several seconds to puzzle out what question he meant.

You mean, “How did you not know she was part of the Neverseen?”

Exactly. How could an Empath—two Empaths, counting my son—not realize they had a traitor among them? We should’ve sensed every lie—every trick. But we missed them all. And while I want to believe you’ll find some stockpile of damaged memories that I can point to and blame for the way she misled me, I fear the reality is simply that while it may be nearly impossible for someone to lie to an Empath, it’s far, far too easy for us to lie to ourselves. Our emotions are stronger. Purer. So much more overwhelming. And we cannot feel our own tells.

Your tells? Sophie repeated.

Another dark rumble. I’m surprised my son’s never mentioned it. Actually, no, I’m not surprised at all. I’m sure this is the last piece of knowledge he wants you to have.

What does that mean?

It means my son has plenty to hide. And all Empaths have a tell when we try to lie. It’s instinctive. Unavoidable. Part of who we are. In fact, I strongly suspect it’s why your creators didn’t choose empathy as one of your abilities. What’s the point of giving their moonlark an impenetrable mind if her heart will give her away every time?

I still have no idea what you’re talking about, Sophie told him.

Yes, I’m sure you don’t. And for a second he hesitated—debating whether he should share.

You realize I could pluck the secret from your mind with a single thought, right? Sophie reminded him.

I suppose that’s a valid point. And it’s not like this is a secret. It’s just not particularly well known, either. Empaths have a physical reaction when we lie. You have to be reading our pulse to feel it, but it’s always there. Our hearts skip three beats. One from guilt. One from fear. And one like a held breath, waiting to see if someone will catch us. It’s completely involuntary—we can’t even feel it in ourselves. Which makes it so very easy for our hearts to lead us astray. How else do you think I ended up married to a murderer?

The last word was a jolt, dragging Sophie’s focus away from all of that strange new information.

And she found herself asking, You REALLY loved her?

She honestly couldn’t imagine Lord Cassius loving anyone except himself.

You know almost nothing about me, he told her. Or what I’m capable of feeling.

True, Sophie conceded. But you know what I’m realizing? I’ve been in your head for all of this time, and I haven’t seen a single memory with her in it. Even down here, in the stuff you’re trying to hide.

Surely you’ve heard of coping mechanisms. Surely you can understand why I’ve spent the last several months painstakingly carving her out of my consciousness. I had to sort through my memories anyway, trying to find any gaps or inconsistencies on my own. And after I finished examining a moment, I’d sever any pieces with her and cast them away—the closest I can come to erasing her from my life.

Okay, but where are those