when the voice spoke, sounding sharper—darker—as it told her, “FEEL!”
Then it was like being dumped into a pool of hot and cold water.
Too many sensations.
Too many emotions.
All surging and swirling and churning—making her head spin and her heart race and her knees collapse again.
The hands holding on to her wrists came to her rescue once more as thumps and crashes thudded all around her. She tried to follow the sounds, but her brain and eyes weren’t ready to focus.
She needed to start smaller.
She concentrated on that small point of contact—the gentle pressure of fingers against her skin, sharing their strength while her own failed her.
She knew those hands.
And she knew the voice they belonged to.
“Keefe?” she whispered as her vision slowly sharpened.
Her eyes traced the line of his arms up past his shoulders, to his pale, terrified face, and he nodded and burst into tears—and seeing his raw, unrestrained emotion unlocked something deep inside Sophie, flooding her with a softer, gentler rush that made her feel like her again.
A sob crawled up her throat, and she didn’t try to swallow it down.
She’d never try to bury her emotions again.
They were far too precious.
“Keefe,” she repeated, scrambling to grab his hand when he tried to back away. “What happened?”
He shook his head again, pulling free from her grasp.
“Whatever that was, it wasn’t your fault,” she promised as he sank onto his cot and dragged the covers up over his head.
“Yes, it was,” a new voice declared—a voice Sophie didn’t hear very often. And when she did, it usually meant problems.
She spun toward the sound and there was Councillor Alina, standing in the doorway wearing a ridiculously fancy purple gown, staring with narrowed eyes at the Keefe lump hiding under his blanket.
Sophie was more interested in the frilly pink figure beside her.
“You told the Council that Keefe was awake?” she asked Oralie, not bothering to hide her irritation.
She hadn’t trusted Oralie much, but she’d thought after Oralie’s we have to start working together speech, it was at least safe to explain why she had to rush back to the Healing Center.
Apparently not.
“Of course she told us,” Alina said, adjusting her peridot circlet. “I realize this is a difficult concept for you to grasp, but we’re your leaders. We expect to be apprised of all significant developments. And it’s a good thing Oralie hailed me, because this is an even bigger disaster than I feared.”
Oralie sighed. “There’s no need to be so dramatic, Alina.”
“Oh, really?” Alina pointed at something behind Sophie. “Then why do I see four unconscious bodies on the floor?”
“Bodies?” Sophie repeated, wheeling around and gasping. “Fitz!”
He was a tangle of arms and legs.
So was Elwin.
And Ro.
And Sandor—though he was flat on his stomach, as if he’d leaped to get to her and ended up face-planting instead.
“We’re not unconscious,” Elwin mumbled, his voice groggy and his glasses askew as he carefully sat up. “We’re just moving a little slow, from… everything. Plus, this floor is definitely not as soft as I wanted it to be.”
“No, it’s not,” Fitz agreed, wincing as he rose to his knees. He reached up to rub his left shoulder, but Sophie didn’t see any other injuries.
Sandor seemed okay too, looking more dazed than hurt as he shakily rose to his feet.
Sophie wanted to kick herself for forgetting about them as she watched Elwin hand Fitz a vial of something that was probably a painkiller—and she felt even worse when she realized that Keefe had saved her from falling, but hadn’t been able to help anyone else.
“Normally I’d give you some ‘smooth points’ for taking care of your pretty little Blondie and leaving Captain Perfectpants to fend for himself,” Ro told Keefe as she stood and stretched. “But next time, how about a little help for the person who knows a hundred different ways to kill you?”
The Keefe lump under the blanket didn’t respond.
“Shouldn’t there be another bodyguard here?” Alina asked. “The female assigned to Fitz?”
“Grizel is doing a perimeter sweep,” Sandor told her.
Sophie had bigger questions. “Does anyone know what happened?”
“No. But I’m guessing this is why Mommy Dearest gave her little Legacy Boy that weird ability that starts with a P,” Ro muttered. “What’s it again? A Polystar?”
“What I saw had nothing to do with being a Polyglot,” Councillor Alina argued. “Polyglots simply have a capacity for language and intonation. They can’t affect emotion.”
“Does that mean Keefe’s a Beguiler?” Fitz asked, and Sophie’s mouth turned sour.
She didn’t know much about the ability—only that Councillor Alina