she let her silence speak for itself—let it hold all her fear and uncertainty.
“I believe in you,” he repeated. “I believe in my moonlark. In fact, I’d love to see the symbol you created. Will you show it to me?”
Sophie stood, making her way to Tiergan’s desk and grabbing a pen and paper. She wasn’t an awesome artist like Keefe, but she sketched the simple lines she’d carved into the ground, adding a few extra curves and flourishes before she handed the page to Mr. Forkle.
His lips curled with another smile. “Now, that’s a symbol. You should start using this.”
“For what?” Sophie asked.
“You’ll know when the time comes,” he told her, which was such a cheating way to answer.
He laughed when she scowled.
“Just let it bring fear and hope to people, Miss Foster. And let it remind you to be strong and smart. Use it to change the game—but make sure you win the right way. And never forget that moonlarks can’t do everything on their own. Not even you.”
Sophie nodded.
“Good.” He stuffed the paper into one of the pockets in his cape. “I’m keeping this. And I’m going to let you keep those caches—but don’t think we’re not going to talk about your plans for those very soon.”
“I don’t actually have any plans,” Sophie told him.
Which was true, since she really didn’t want to have to go back to working with Oralie.
But she would probably have to.
“I know you don’t,” he told her. “But you will. You’ll figure it all out in time. That’s what leaders do. For now, how about you sit back down and tell me more about destroying this storehouse?”
“Why?” Sophie asked—but she still returned to one of the ottomans.
He smiled his widest smile yet. “Because we need to celebrate the victories.”
- SIXTEEN - Keefe
I have no idea what I’m doing,” Keefe whispered, “but it’s going to be okay.”
He’d said those words to himself several dozen times since he’d fled Elwin’s house. And now he was saying them again to a tiny, caged imp—who narrowed his watery green eyes, looking about as dubious as Keefe felt.
“Trust me, this will be your best look yet—you’ll see,” he promised, keeping his voice extra soft in case his new ability worked on furry creatures. Plus, it’d be super bad if he got caught sneaking into Foster’s room and messing with her pet. “Just give this a little drinky-drink for me, and let the awesomeness happen.”
He pressed a vial against Iggy’s lips, and the feisty imp unleashed a cage-rattling fart to punish him. But he also slurped down the thick syrup—a mix of five different elixirs, which Keefe had concocted from one of his prank stashes during the quick stop he’d made at the Shores of Solace.
Thankfully, Daddy Dearest hadn’t been home, so he’d been able to grab the final thing he needed and get away without any drama.
“Ooo, it’s working—what did I tell you?” Keefe scratched Iggy’s fuzzy cheeks, filling the room with the sound of squeaky purring as Iggy’s fluffy fur slowly changed colors—green in some patches. Blue and purple in others.
Some spots even merged into a soft teal tone, which made Keefe want to roll his eyes and grumble about Fitzphie.
But Foster would love it.
And honestly, he hoped Fitz would step up and become whoever and whatever she needed him to be.
She deserved that.
She deserved to be happy.
“Huh, that’s unexpected,” he said as tiny black tiger stripes streaked across Iggy’s body. Keefe wasn’t sure which of the elixirs had caused something like that. He’d just thrown his favorites together, trying to create something memorable.
At least he’d gotten that right.
“You look fabulous,” he assured Iggy. “I’m definitely going to win the prize for Best Imp Stylist.”
Not that he’d be around to claim his victory.
Or to see Foster’s reaction.
But that was probably better, since a colorful, stripy imp wasn’t the only surprise he was leaving for her.
He pulled the letter he’d written from his pocket and carried Iggy’s cage over to the giant canopied bed, setting both on the pillow so there was no way anyone would miss them.
His brain kept screaming at him to tear the letter up and rewrite it. But there was no time for that.
Plus… it was better to be honest, wasn’t it?
“If you chew this,” he warned, showing Iggy the crinkled envelope, “I will shave you bald—you hear me?”
Iggy burped in his face.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” But just to be extra safe, he slid the cage on top of the letter to