Keefe was sitting in the massive tree house in Alluveterre reading another boring Empathy book.
It was a shame that the Black Swan didn't have any super talented empaths that could've trained him. Foster and Fitz had Granite. Biana had Della and Wraith. Dex didn't have anyone mentoring him, but at least they were giving him projects to work on.
Keefe wished they'd let him help Dex. It would be better than boring books.
And better than having to sit there watching Foster and Fitz stare into each others' eyes.
Keefe wouldn't mind them getting so close if he didn't know just how much Foster liked it.
Okay, she hated it, too, but only because she was scared to spill her secrets.
But she liked all this quality time with Fitzy, as evidenced by the flutters she was flinging Keefe's way.
Cognate training apparently made her panic and swoon in equal measure.
Keefe's only consolation was that he was also growing closer to Foster—and there had even been a couple of times that she'd gone fluttery over him.
But not like with Fitz.
Which was really unfortunate, because Keefe had known right away how intriguing Foster was. And the more time he spent with her, the clearer it became--she was an incredible person. He'd finally managed to push and prod his way into her life--not just as a nominal friend but as an integral part of her circle. He could feel how much he mattered to her. And he loved it. He hadn't had very much of that--his few friendships before Fitz had been superficial. Mostly because Keefe hadn't wanted to let anyone in, let anyone see what his life was truly like. He even hid it from Fitz for a long time--and even now, didn't let Fitz see the full scope of it. But his relationships with the Vackers had been all he really had, until Foster came along. Fitz was both best friend and brother. But none of their other friends were as close.
And then Sophie Foster arrived on the scene and changed everything. The way she'd handled him finding out his family was even worse than he'd imagined? Looked out for him, worried about how it was affecting him?
That was huge.
And Fitz, Biana and Dex were all standing by him too.
And the Collective.
Apart from the Vackers, Keefe wouldn't have had any of that support if it hadn't been for Sophie.
The more he got to know her, the more he liked her.
And the more she liked Fitz.
Keefe was spared from this upsetting spiral by Calla running into the room. She seemed stressed as she told Foster that there was an urgent report and she couldn't reach the Collective.
They all followed Foster and Calla outside, where they were introduced to two gnomes named Lur and Mitya.
Unfortunately, they began speaking in gnomish, so only Foster could follow their conversation.
But when she told everyone that Lur and Mitya had apparently been the ones that had discovered where the Neverseen had been keeping her and Dex, Keefe had to resist the urge to hug them both.
They had saved both of his friends' lives that day--even if he hadn't known, yet, that Dex was destined to become his friend.
Keefe inwardly cursed not being a polygot as they continued talking in gnomish.
Especially since Mitya kept glancing at him as they spoke, and he could feel both dread and fear coursing through Foster. At one point, grief mixed with her dread and she actually swayed so hard she would have fallen over if he hadn't caught her.
"Please tell me what they're saying. You said you wouldn't hide things from me," he reminded her in a whisper as he held her steady.
"I won't," she promised before slowly pulling away and resuming her gnomish conversation.
"Can you understand what they're saying, Mom?" Biana asked Della after a moment.
"I'm only catching bits and pieces," Della admitted. But her voice hitched, which did not bode well, especially since he'd distinctly heard them say 'Gisela'.
"Please, Foster," he found himself begging. "I've heard them say my mom's name. I'm going crazy here."
He actually felt like the suspense was going to kill him. Or at least, make him physically ill.
"I need to verify first," she told him. "There could be a misunderstanding."
She ended up reaching for Mitya's temples to search her memories. After a moment, a different sort of panic passed through her and Keefe wondered if she was struggling. Mitya had made it sound like reading her mind would not be like reading an elvin mind. Keefe nudged Fitz, indicating that Foster might need him to step in.
Fitz nodded at him. "You need help," he told Foster. "I'm coming in."
Her emotions calmed down after a moment, so Fitz's help must've been what she needed.
Keefe was too terrified of what his mom must have done to be bothered by Fitz being what Foster needed.
Within minutes, her emotions went back to the initial dread, then fear, then heartache.
A quick brush of Keefe's finger against Fitz's arm--which he doubted Fitz even registered--told Keefe that Fitz was feeling the same emotions as Foster.
Finally, Foster removed her hands from Mitya's temples. "That is all we know," Mitya told her.
"You'll share this with the Collective?" Lur asked.
"We will," Fitz answered in a strained voice.
Foster seemed at a loss for words.
And she was crying.
What had his mom done?
Mitya reached up to wipe Foster's tears. "I am sorry to burden you with this responsibility, Miss Foster. No one should face such horrors. Especially you."
Keefe was about to lose it. He needed to know what his mom had done.
"I'm not worried about me," Foster insisted.
The gnomes then said their goodbyes and disappeared into the trees.
"Okay," Keefe said, taking Foster's hands. "You have to tell me what my mom's done."
Foster shook her head at Fitz, who must have asked her something telepathically, and looked at Keefe. Fitz made everyone else go back inside with him as Foster reached for Keefe's hand.
"Come on," she whispered, pulling him toward a tree that had fallen by the river, and sat down, pulling him down beside her.
"If she killed someone, just tell me," he whispered.
Please, no. Not THAT.
She tangled their fingers together and squeezed tighter than she ever had. "It's not about what she's done, Keefe. It's about what might've happened to her."
She began telling the whole horrifying story--his mom, covered in bloody cuts all over her neck and her face, being dragged away, screaming and begging for mercy.
To a place it was rumored ogres burned bodies of those they'd killed.
And then they had seen smoke rising.
Then Foster finished by telling him that they hadn't found a body, so they didn't know anything for sure.
Keefe didn't know what to think. Didn't know what to feel.
What was he expected to do or say in this situation?
He'd been afraid his mom had been causing mayhem.
Now he was terrified that she was dead.
But...wouldn't that be a good thing?
She was creepy and evil and even the tiny glints of kindness she'd offered him very infrequently throughout his life had all been lies and manipulation.
But his heart ached all the same, no matter how much he told himself it shouldn't.
He sat there, only barely aware of Foster's hand in his, and stared unseeingly at the river.
"What are you thinking?" Foster eventually asked him.
That it's deeply unfair that I am stuck still caring about my mom when she plainly never cared about me.
"Strange question, coming from a Telepath."
"You know I would never invade your privacy like that."
He sighed. "I'm thinking...she deserves to be dead."
"It's okay to be sad, Keefe."
He could tell she meant what she said, but...
"No it's not--not after what she's done."
"She's still your mom, no matter how angry you are."
She understood. Even if he didn't want to articulate it...Sophie understood.
"I'm more than angry, Sophie. I'm...I don't know what the word is. But I don't care what happens to her." He willed that to be true, even though it wasn't.
"Then why are you crying?" She reached up to wipe his cheek and showed him a tear on her finger.
A tear he hadn't even realized he'd shed.
"I..." but he couldn't speak. He couldn't hide it anymore. The floodgates opened and he found himself sobbing into her shoulder as she held him tightly.
He cried until he felt completely dry, like he'd drained all moisture from his body. Even in his very confusing grief, he felt an immeasurable gratitude for Sophie as she sat there, her arms around him, silently and patiently waiting, supporting him as he wept.
He remembered how helpless he felt when she lay on that cave floor crying after having her abilities healed. How he'd wanted to comfort her, but they weren't very close yet, plus he was terrified of hurting her by moving her too much. So as much as he'd wanted to pull her in close and hold her just like this while she cried, he'd settled for letting her rest her head on his leg.
In spite of that, he really hoped he'd been as much of a comfort to her that day as she was being to him now.
"We don't know anything for sure yet," she reminded him when his sobs finally began to subside.
"It doesn't matter," he told her. "I don't even know what I'm rooting for." He should hope that his mom was dead so that she couldn't do anything else. One major Neverseen player down. But...how could he possibly wish his own mother dead?
Why did he still have to love her in spite of everything?
She didn't love him.
She was part of the group that kidnapped Sophie. Kidnapped Dex.
How could he still care about her?
"You don't have to root for anything," Sophie told him, pulling him back to the present. "But as much as you hate her, part of you still loves her. So whatever happens, you're going to have to grieve."
"Not if I can help it." He pulled away and turned back to stare at the river.
"Want me to leave you alone?" she asked him.
He nodded, but quickly changed his mind. "Actually, no. It's not good for me to be alone right now. I'll do something stupid. I need...I don't know what I need. Just don't go." Don't ever go. I need you.
So she stayed.
He needed her strength.
Needed to feel the tenderness and concern coming off her in waves.
He leaned his head against her shoulder, not sure how long they sat there silently, just sitting together, her holding him tightly and keeping him from falling apart.
He was so thankful to have her by his side for this.
Fitz would have been every bit as concerned and supportive, but Keefe would have felt a lot weirder about crying on Fitz's shoulder. He supposed he should feel weird about crying on Sophie's shoulder, too, but he couldn't quite manage it.
Their friendship was really being forged and strengthened through trials. And she was proving to be every bit as special as he'd assumed from day one.
But even thoughts of Sophie couldn't consume his mind for long.
He was still busy trying to disentangle the knot of different emotions and different thoughts coursing through him.
And his thoughts kept circling back to the same thing.
Childhood is officially over.
He was nearing adulthood anyway, in just a few short years, but with everything that had happened to him, he was--they all were--being forced to grow up even sooner. And it wasn't fair. But that was the hand they'd been dealt, and they'd have to learn to come to terms with it.
But Keefe would have the added pressure of having to try to dismantle all the evil his mother had done. To fix everything she'd broken.
He just didn't know how.
Finally, he raised his head and looked at Sophie. "I guess we should be getting back."
Sophie nodded. "If you're ready. I'm sure Fitz has filled everyone in on...everything."
"I'm hoping everyone will be asleep so I won't have to deal with anyone's sympathy just yet."
"We all just care about you, Keefe."
"I know." His voice sounded dull even to his own ears.
But he stood, pulling her up with him, and reached for her hand as they walked back toward the tree houses. He clung to her hand tightly, soaking up every ounce of care and compassion she was flinging at him. All the lights were out, so it looked like he'd get his wish and be able to go straight to his room undeterred.
All the same...he wished he didn't have to let go of her hand or walk away from her.
She was all that was keeping him together. Her kindness. Her understanding. Her lack of judgment for everything he was thinking and feeling. Honestly, he wasn't sure how he was going to survive the rest of the night without her. But he couldn't ask her to stay up with him all night.
She would, if he asked. He knew she'd sit in the common area all night with him if he asked her to. She'd be content to sit in silence, or talk, or let him cry some more. She'd be willing to be whatever he needed. That was just the kind of friend she was.
But he couldn't do that to her. She needed rest.
And he needed to think.
So he reluctantly let go of her hand.
"If you need me, throw something at my window," she told him softly.
He tried to smile, but knew he failed. "See you tomorrow, Foster."