to get a little sleep.
Keefe might’ve gotten choked up hearing that—but he’d pretended to cough to make sure no one noticed.
Then he’d gone through a list with Fitz name by name, checking that all the other people he cared about had made it out of Loamnore without any injuries. And Fitz had assured him that everyone was good. Even Shady McSilverbangs was back living at Tiergan’s house again—not that Keefe necessarily counted Tam as a friend. But he was glad to hear that Tammy Boy hadn’t officially turned into an enemy, either—mostly because the guy could do some seriously scary stuff when he put his mind to it.
Now if only Keefe could get Elwin to stop with All the Pointless Tests Ever.
It’d also be awesome if Fitz would quit staring at him like he was expecting him to sprout wings and a tail and morph into a gorgodon.
Keefe could practically feel the worry rippling off both of them in prickly little waves.
Actually…
Nope.
He had to be imagining that.
The only emotions he could feel automatically were Sophie’s—well, and the alicorns’. And humans’. With everyone else, he had to try in order to take a reading. He also usually needed physical contact, unless Sophie was enhancing him. And most of the time he had to guess what people were feeling, since a lot of moods felt the same without context.
And thank goodness his empathy worked that way, because Foster’s feelings were more than enough for him to handle—not that he didn’t love catching glimpses of the real Miss F, instead of the brave face she tried to put on for everybody.
But being around Sophie could be intense. Particularly when she was worried about something.
It also wasn’t a whole lot of fun when her heart got all pitter-pattery—though that might be changing.
Foster hadn’t told him anything for certain, but he’d sure felt a whole lot of heartache when he’d asked what was going on between her and the Fitzster. She also hadn’t corrected him when he’d said he was sorry—which he shouldn’t be happy about.
He absolutely, one hundred percent, should not be glad that someone he cared about was experiencing any kind of emotional pain—two someones, actually.
But… if he was honest… he wasn’t necessarily sad.
He glanced at his best friend, knowing it definitely wasn’t the right time to grill him about troubles in Fitzphieland—and even if it was, that was the kind of conversation he should stay far, far away from for lots of practical, let’s-not-turn-this-into-a-huge-mess-of-drama reasons.
But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from blurting out, “I’m surprised Foster isn’t here by now. I figured you’d do that Team-Cognates-Forever! thing and telepathically tell her it’s time to come yell at me for breaking my promises to stay away from Loamnore.”
“Actually, I did,” Fitz said, fidgeting with the end of his tunic. “I’m sure she’ll be here any second.”
And WHAM!
A giant gut-punch of feelings hit Keefe out of nowhere.
Sadness.
Nervousness.
Regret.
Loneliness.
Plus, a hefty dash of anger.
And as much as Keefe didn’t want anything to be different after… everything… he had to admit that the emotions weren’t his.
He could feel them zinging through the air.
Coming straight from Fitz.
“Sooooooo, how’s the nausea?” Elwin asked, raising one of his eyebrows as he snapped his fingers and surrounded Keefe with a bubble of purple light. “Hmm, I guess I should also be asking how the headache’s going—and think very carefully about how you answer. Remember: I can see your cells right now. So there’s no use pretending that everything’s normal. I know you want that to be true—and believe me, I wish it were. But what happened to you isn’t something you can just pretend away. That’s why I need you to be honest with me, so I can figure out the best means to help you. We’re in this together, and I promise, I’m going to do everything in my power to get you through it. I just need you to cooperate.”
He held Keefe’s stare as something heavy crashed against Keefe’s senses.
Concern.
Usually a tough emotion to recognize, because it felt like a bunch of different things. But Keefe didn’t even have to try to translate the feeling—which made him want to curl into a little ball and pull the blankets over his head.
Instead, he leaned back against his pillow and propped up his feet.
If he was going to have to deal with… whatever this was, he wanted to figure it out on his own, without people fussing over him and asking all kinds of personal questions—or freaking out about what