“That’s different,” Dex cut in. “There was no guarantee that what Mr. Forkle did would work—well, except with you, but you’re… you know…”
“Weird?” Sophie finished for him.
“I was going to say unique,” Dex corrected.
“Suuuuuuure you were.”
Her smile faded when Dex didn’t return it.
He looked so serious.
So sad.
So… scared.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she mumbled.
She tried replaying the conversation, looking for any clue she might’ve missed.
The only thing that stood out was Dex saying that Keefe’s ability was different from what Mr. Forkle did to trigger her abilities.
“So… Mr. Forkle can’t guarantee that someone will manifest,” she said slowly. “Does that mean Keefe… can?”
Dex’s eyes welled with tears. “No.”
She was about to ask how he could be so sure when she remembered something he’d told her earlier.
It’s not really my secret to share.
She’d assumed he’d meant Keefe. But now all she could think about was the fact that only two of the triplets had manifested.
A lump lodged in her throat, making it hard to choke out her next question. But she cleared it away and whispered, “Was Rex there when Keefe touched Bex’s and Lex’s hands?”
Dex’s tears spilled over—which pretty much answered her question. But he still said, “Keefe said Rex’s hand felt empty somehow. And… he felt the same thing from my dad.”
“Oh.”
The tiny word seemed to pulse, growing louder with every beat until the sound filled the enormous room.
So did the word none of them said.
Talentless.
More tears dripped down Dex’s cheeks, and Sophie felt her own eyes turn watery.
She wanted to insist it was a mistake. After all, Keefe was barely beginning to understand his power.
But truth always felt different.
It carried a heavier weight.
“Promise me you won’t tell Rex,” Dex whispered, drying his face with his sleeve.
“He doesn’t know?”
Dex shook his head. “He’s already been sobbing most of the day because he’s worried it might happen. Can you imagine how he’d feel if he knew for sure? He still has years before he gets to the point where everyone will give up on him—unless the Council finds out what Keefe can do and makes him start testing everyone in ability detecting at Foxfire.”
Sophie sucked in a breath. “Do you think they’d do that?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. It’d make it way easier to decide who belongs at Foxfire and who doesn’t. And who knows? They might even start testing everyone at birth. I’m sure they’d claim it’s better for everyone to know as early as possible. But all it would do is make the Talentless be judged their entire lives.”
Chills rippled down Sophie’s spine. “Keefe would never go along with that.”
“He might not have a choice. All they’d have to do is restrain him and have a Telepath read his mind while people touched his hands.”
Sophie wasn’t sure if she could picture the Councillors ordering something so cruel.
But she could imagine his mom doing it.
“Why would Lady Gisela want that?” she said, mostly to herself. “Why endure all the painful experiments on herself and her husband—and everything she put Keefe through—just so Keefe could tell if someone is or isn’t going to manifest?”
“He might also be able to trigger abilities,” Dex reminded her. “Plus, he’s now a Polyglot and can give commands that do all kinds of scary things. And maybe there’s other stuff we haven’t discovered yet.”
“There probably is,” Sophie hated to admit. “But… I still don’t see a connection. She’s trying to rule the world—how does this help with that?”
“I don’t know,” Dex said. “But I don’t want to find out.”
Neither did Sophie.
Keefe clearly didn’t either—which finally explained why he’d fled the Lost Cities.
And this was going to make it pretty impossible to convince him to come back.
“Do you think he’ll ever be able to control this ability?” she asked, staring at her gloveless hands.
She’d found a way to master her enhancing.…
But it had taken her months.
And several special gadgets.
And a strange mental exercise.
And help.
Lots of help.
“I’m working on some prototypes,” Dex said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “And I’ll talk to Tinker—though it’s going to be hard to get her to understand what I need without telling her why. But… there has to be something we can do.”
“I’ll tell Keefe that,” she promised. “Well… if I find him.”
“Oh, we’re finding him!” Ro said with way more confidence than Sophie was capable of mustering. “I don’t care if we have to tear through every human city.”
“Where will you start?” Dex asked.
“Somewhere random, I guess,” Sophie said quietly. “Grady said Keefe spun the blue crystal on his pathfinder and leaped wherever it stopped.”
“Where did he get a blue crystal?”
“Probably from Daddy Dearest,” Ro grumbled. “Hunkyhair was always bragging about how he used to steal it.”
“Do you think Lord Cassius knows which cities his pathfinder can access?” Sophie asked.
“He’d have to,” Dex agreed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to use it.”
A spark of hope flared to life. “Looks like we need to stop by the Shores of Solace.”
Ro sheathed her dagger—then stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. “I really hope Lord Bossypants decides to be difficult. I’m in the mood to punch something.”
Sophie wouldn’t mind an excuse either.
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” Dex told them. “And keep me updated, okay?”
“I will. And… thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Nothing’s easy anymore,” Dex mumbled.
“It isn’t,” Sophie agreed, wishing she could reach through the tiny screen and hug him.
She couldn’t.
Just like she couldn’t promise him that everything would be okay.
All she could do was keep going.
Keep trying.
Keep fighting with everything she had.
And always hope for the best.
THREE
WHERE IS MY SON?”
Of course Lord Cassius greeted them with the question that Sophie had been hoping to avoid.
She’d realized as they were teleporting to the Shores of Solace that Keefe’s father had no idea his son was missing—and it’d probably be better to keep it that way. But Lord Cassius would never answer questions about his pathfinder without knowing why she was asking. And lying to Empaths was annoyingly challenging.
So she cut straight to the brutal truth: “Keefe ran away.”
Normal parents would’ve cried—panicked—pummeled Sophie with questions.