Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,78

for me. And Bronte pretty much led that charge, didn’t he?”

“I think so,” Keefe agreed slowly. “I know he was definitely a big part of it.”

Sophie wrapped her arms around herself, needing that extra bit of support. “Right. So… if he was also secretly part of Project Moonlark… he basically forced Prentice to sacrifice himself for no reason. Or maybe he did it for show, to cover up his own involvement? Either way, that’s…”

There were no words for that level of ugliness.

And she might be biologically related to someone capable of it.

“Definitely not gonna argue with the disgust you’re feeling there,” Keefe told her, his face scrunched like he’d licked something sour. “If Bronte is your biological father, he has some serious explaining to do—but remember: That has nothing to do with you. I can give you the ‘our families don’t decide who we are’ speech again if you need me to. Also… in a weird way, this might be good news. I mean, not for Prentice or Wylie—or Alden, given how much that memory break messed him up too. But… it’d mean you wouldn’t have to feel bad about outing your connection to Bronte—because someone that heartless? They shouldn’t be a Councillor. In fact, he probably shouldn’t be anything except a prisoner in Exile. And I know you’re worried that any scandal will help the Neverseen discredit the Council—but not if we’re cleaning house. Not if we’re saying, ‘Ugh, this guy is creepy. Let’s change him out for someone we can actually trust.’ ”

“I guess,” Sophie said—though she was pretty sure it would never be that clear and easy. Especially since Bronte’s “creepy” decision raised a lot of questions about the Black Swan as an organization—questions she’d definitely want answered herself.

And it would surely destroy whatever favor she’d recently gained.

But… if anyone was a pro at being unpopular, it was her.

And she’d still be able to focus on the dwarves and Tam and the Neverseen—even if they stripped away her Regent title. Biana, Dex, Wylie, and Stina could be in charge of anything that needed to be handled more officially, and she’d work with Linh and Marella and Fitz on everything else.

And speaking of Fitz…

She knew it was a gross, selfish thought to have after any of the things they’d been discussing. But…

If Bronte really was her biological father, she actually did have a good reason to expose him.

And if she exposed him, she’d be halfway to the solution to her matchmaking conundrum.

“There’s the hope I’ve been waiting for,” Keefe said, grinning as he fanned the air—though his smile looked… tired. “See? It’s not all doom and gloom.”

“It’s a mess,” Sophie insisted.

“It might be a mess,” he corrected. “Don’t forget fact one and fact two.”

Sophie nodded, not sure if it made her a terrible person to suddenly be hoping that Bronte was her father. Life would be drama and chaos for a while, but… then it would be settled. One hurdle down.

“How soon do you think you can get me in a room with Bronte?” Keefe asked.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow and see what he says,” she decided. “I’m sure he’ll let me schedule something—it just might be a few days or weeks from now. And I don’t think I’ll be able to push him without it seeming weird.”

“Well… name the date and time, and I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Sophie told him, choking up a little.

He shrugged. “Eh, don’t go giving me too much credit, Foster. Thanks to you and Ro—and Bangs Boy—it’s not like I have a very busy or exciting schedule these days. It’s either this, or sit at home while Dad of the Year complains about how I should be studying or honing my empathy instead of drawing—which does at least give me an excuse to doodle some very unflattering cartoons of him and hide them around the Shores of Solace for him to find.”

He flashed a particularly smug smirk, but Sophie could see the sadness behind it.

And it had her pulling him back into a hug.

Keefe had so many huge family problems of his own, and yet here he was, spending all this time helping her deal with hers—after staying up late figuring all of this out.

“Thank you,” she repeated, wishing he didn’t feel so tense in her arms. “I mean it, Keefe. I don’t know if I’d be able to get through this without you.”

“Yes you could,” he argued, finally relaxing as he leaned into the hug to whisper, “You’re Lady Foster. The Dire Wolf