Keeper Of Lost Things Quotes

Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.

Sophie flung a pillow at his head. Or, she tried to. Throwing with her left arm was much harder than she expect, and... She ended up nailing Magnate Leto in the face. Keefe doubled over, clutching his sides and gasping between choking laughs: “THAT...WAS...THE...GREATEST...THING...IVE...EVER...SEEN!

Let's not add projectile vomiting to the list of Awesome Things We Get To Do Today.

He cried that night for all that he had lost, but he would say it taught him a valuable lesson: that holding on to things "will only break your heart.

That’s impossible [...] You need infinite energy for light travel. Haven’t you heard of the theory of relativity?” She thought she had him stumped with that one, but he just laughed again. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Her grandmother had once told her that one could blame ugliness on one's genes and ignorance on one's education, but there was absolutely no excuse whatsoever for being dull.

...I never knew I needed a lot of things before I met you. (Keefe Sencen to Sophie Foster)

This is…magic?” Fitz laughed – a full body laugh, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard [...] “No,” he said when he’d regained control. “Magic is a stupid idea humans came up with to try to explain things they couldn’t understand.

Mr. Snuggles is always the best thing to see when you first wake up.

the wonderful thing about books was that they were films that played inside your head.

Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you." I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin, Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be the shepherd. he became the shepherd instead of the vengeance. Jules Winnfield- Samuel L. Jackson

I believe in the all-powerful Fitzphie! Actually, you know what? We should call this one Sophitz, since-let’s face it-Foster’s the real talent when it comes to this sort of thing.

We shouldn’t pass judgment until we see how things play out. Actions never tell the whole story. Good can be done for the wrong reason. And bad can be misunderstood.

In this world, Daisy, we are tiny. We can’t always win and we can’t always be happy. But the one thing that we can always do is try.

And keep in mind,' Oralie added, finally turning her azure eyes toward Sophie, ' true trust does not require absolute transparency. There is incredible power in accepting that there are some things you cannot know--and being willing to maintain your commitment to that person despite the secrets.

She was a girl with strange abilities and a different way of looking at the world. What she decided to do with these things was up to her.

Sophie smiled. “We all have our things.” “Well, yours is weird,” Amy told her.

The more she thought about it, the more she realised both sides had lost an important alternate perspective. And maybe that was what she'd been created for. A girl from both worlds, who'd seen the follies and triumphs of each side. And her job was to shake things up and do something new.

...if you lose, you’ll have to wear a metal diaper to school and call me Lord Hunkyhair from now on.” “Uh... yeah, no,” Fitz said as Biana asked, “Hunkyhair?” “Lord Hunkyhair,” Keefe corrected. “What? It’s accurate.” He tossed his head like he was in a shampoo commercial. “I think we need to make it a thing either way- don’t you, Foster?” “I think you’re ridiculous,” Sophie told him.

Keefe leaned his head against her shoulder and Sophie counted his breaths, considering what a strange thing grief turned out to be. Grady and Edaline closed themselves off. Fitz pushed everyone away. She couldn't figure out how Keefe was handling it all yet. But she was glad he wanted her to stay.

I already did a cave of horrors thing with you a few weeks ago, and it wasn't awesome.

If you never get sadness, how do you know what happy is like?” she asked.

Now I know why Bianas ready to start stabbing things.

Keefe closed the distance between them. And then... everything was new. The soft press of his lips against hers. The way their breath seemed to fall perfectly into sync as her heart and brain screamed FINALLY! Some tiny part of her had always wondered if kissing could really be as great as everyone claimed. But kissing Keefe was So. Much. Better. He was the one to finally pull away, leaning back to study her in the shimmering light. "You're okay, right? No regrets?" She grinned. "Absolutely none." His relieved smile was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen- but it faded a little as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I don't want to mess this up," he whispered. "Please don't let me mess this up." "I won't," she promised, tilting her chin up to steal another quick kiss.

Do you have any fathomlethes around here?” “I hope you’re not talking about the weird river-pearl thing you took in Alluveterre that made you cover your walls in scraps of paper like a serial killer,” Sophie told him. “Oh I am- I know you’re not going to like it, Foster. But I remembered a ton of stuff last time. So how about I promise to let you help me sort through the notes again? Remember that? Such a classic Keephie moment!

Time for the lovely cup of tea

And it was hilarious,” Ro added. “One night he got out of bed and started doing a wiggle dance in his sleep and singing about Prattles pins. And another time he decided he was a baby alicorn and dropped to his hands and knees and galloped all over the house, whinnying. Greatest thing I’ve ever seen.

dress for yourself, and marry for love.

Common decency, good manners, kindness and hard work were treated as peculiarities

Guilt is a treacherous thing.

Are you kidding?” Sophie and Fitz asked, once again in perfect unison. Elwin chuckled. “I’m sure if Keefe were here, he’d have a lot to say about how in sync you two are getting.” “Just more proof that Fitzphie’s the best,” Fitz told him, with a wink that shouldn’t have made Sophie’s heart flutter. But hearts could be foolish things.

But I don’t care what happens to her.” “Then why are you crying?” She reached up to wipe his cheek and showed him the tear on her finger. “I . . .” The rest of his words twisted into a sob. Sophie held him tightly, letting him soak the shoulder of her tunic with tears. She wondered if Fitz had felt this helpless when she’d done the same thing to him. He’d seemed so strong and steady that day, when he’d taken her from her human family. She wished she could be the same for Keefe.

Nothing wrong doesn’t make him Mr Right.

The Fitzphie pizzazz, Sophie repeated, There's no such thing. Not what that attitude, there isn't! Keefe told her.

Ro blinked. “Wow! Okay—I officially take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about your Councillors! They’re my heroes! All hail the sparkle-fied twelve for breaking up the Great Fitzphie!

His shadow slipped over hers again, and she could almost feel his eyes studying her. "You're different," his voice whispered. "I can't decide if that's a good thing." 'It is', she transmitted, surprised at how much she wanted him to believe her. He walked away without another word.

We can’t always win and we can’t always be happy. But the one thing that we can always do is try.

TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE: [WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!]

Sophie smiled, “We all have our things.” “Well, yours is weird,” Amy told her.

Biana and Fitz stared in wonder at Silveny. Keefe grinned at Sophie. “Yeah, Foster’s always doing crazy things no one can understand. It’s how she keeps her sense of mystery.

The fact that they're shaped like tiny elves!" Keefe said, clapping his hands before he pointed to the label. "Hang on-THEY CALL THEM 'ELF WITCHES'?" "They do, Keefe. They do. And that's not even the best part." "AHHHHHH LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE FACES!" Keefe shouted as he peeled back the plastic cover. "THIS IS THE GREATEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN---EVER!" "Greater than when you discovered Fitz slept with Mr. Snuggles?" Sophie had to ask. "Um. YEAH. They have names, Foster. NAMES!" He held up one of the cookies and pointed to the name tag the little elf was holding. "This one's Ernie! AHHHH AND THIS ONE IS FAST EDDIE!" he said, snatching a different cookie. "And this one is Bickets! And Elwood! I don't know who named these guys, but whoever they are, they're a genius, I tell you--a GENIUS. - Legacy, chapter 37, page 596-97 hardcover.

A hush is a dangerous thing. Silence is solid and dependable, but a hush is expectant, like a pregnant pause; it invites mischief, like a loose thread begging to be pulled.

Perhaps he had seen her as a challenge. Or a novelty.

She’d been kidnapped right after—and then her abilities had broken, and Alden’s sanity collapsed, and Silveny was attacked, and Kenric was murdered, and the Council turned against her, and she was banished along with all of her friends, and the gnomish plague was unleashed, and Keefe ran off, and Lumenaria fell, and so many other devastating and distracting things had happened that Sophie had never stopped to wonder . . .

Time is a funny thing. Once it's gone, it's gone. But then it passes onto someone else.

I swear, watching boys try to communicate is like watching amoebas,” Ro told Sophie during the long silence that followed. “You just stare at their blobby little bodies and think, ‘How do these things even function?

I know we’ve done stuff, Foster. But it’s not even close to enough. And the scariest thing is how little we know. I mean... I can’t even tell you if I’ve gotten back all the memories my mom erased. Meanwhile they know everything about us: where we live, where we go to school, what our abilities are, who our friends and family are, how to find us- do you need me to keep going? Because we both know I can.

If you never get sadness, how do you know what happy is like?’ she asked. ‘And by the way, everybody dies.

The things of the world fell by the wayside, you lost your speed and your eyesight and your fucking Electric Boogaloo, but literature was eternal,

It was too early for gin and lime, and too hot for tea.

And you get to bathe the verminion for the next month,” Grady added. Sophie groaned. She swore the giant mutant-hamster-thing had been plotting to destroy her since she’d helped trap it when it arrived at Havenfield. “That’s just mean.” “No, that’s awesome,” Dex corrected. “Glad you think so, Dex,” Grady told him, “ ’Cause you get to help her.” “Hey—I didn’t do anything wrong!” “I never said you did. But do you really think Sophie will let you just stand there and watch her work?

What I'm trying to realize is that it's okay to be different. If everyone were the same, we'd all make the same mistakes. Instead we all face our own things, and that's not so bad because we have people who care about us to help us through. You have that, Keefe. We're all here for you. No matter what." -Sophie Foster

I’ll always remember that’s you found me and brought me to the Lost Cities and showed me where I really belong. And that you came when I called for help and saved me from fading away. And you left everything behind to go with me when I joined the Black Swan. Need me to keep going? Because I can.” His smile was a beautiful thing. But it didn’t last.

I am,” Dex said, as Linh asked, “Did Fitzphie become an actual thing?

Things are happening, and I need your help. When and where can we meet?

Plus, after the whole ogre king thing, you’re on pretty thin ice, y’know? I bet if you sneeze too loud, Bronte will call a Tribunal.

And now I need you to promise something to me. Don’t worry, I won’t tell you not to take risks, or not to worry about us, or any other impossible things. I just need you to promise that you’ll never give up. No matter how hard it gets. Or how hopeless it feels. Never, ever give up.” “I won’t if you won’t,” Sophie whispered. “Never,” Edaline promised.

No, I kept my promise to someone who’d made me feel like I mattered at a time when everyone else just wanted me to go away. Someone who gave me a place to stay and made it feel like a home after mine had been ripped apart. I know that doesn’t erase the things she’s done, but it meant too much for me to totally ignore it. I did owe her.

When I observe Gram, I see how fragile the notion of tradition can be. If I take my eyes off the way she kneads her Easter bread, or if I fail to study the way she sews a seam in suede, or if I lose the mental image I have of her when she negotiates a better deal with a button salesman, somehow, the very essence of her will be lost. When she goes, the responsibility for carrying on will fall to me. My mother says I’m the keeper of the flame, because I work here, and because I choose to live here. A flame is a very fragile thing, too, and there are times when I wonder if I’m the on who can keep it going.

Henry. She could never trust a man who shared his name with a vacuum cleaner.

There were other ways to learn, she decided. Things which could not be found in books,

Pretty sure the last thing he wants is an Empath holding on to him when he goes anywhere near Sophie’s hand.

Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better-Keefe Sencen

A girl from both worlds, who’d seen the follies and triumphs of each side. And her job was to shake things up and do something new.

But he, that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose. Anne Brontë

She wanted excitement; a life less lifeless.

Time is a funny thing. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. But then it passes to someone else. You’ll do great things with it, Sophie. Wonderful, incredible things.

I tried to warn you." "I know," Keefe told him. "And I tried to listen." "I know," Tam said quietly. "And ... here we are." "I'm pretty sure that was inevitable," Keefe agreed. "So I want you to know three things, okay? The truest things you'll ever hear." He waited for Tam to nod before he told him, "Number one: I still don't like you."Tam's lips twitched at that, but he stayed silent as Keefe added, "Number two: I will always make fun of your bangs." That earned Keefe an actual smile.

Fitz offered Sophie his arm, and she tried to ignore the way her insides fluttered at the gesture. He was probably only doing it because everyone knew that climbing things wasn’t her strengths- particularly when she was wearing heels. But her face grew warm as she hooked her elbow around his. It got even warmer when he told her, “I’m glad you’re here.

Oh, I know you,” Sophie said through a sigh. “I’ll just never stop hoping you’ll decide to play things smart for once.” “See, but ‘smart’ really isn’t my brand. I’m more ‘reckless dream guy without a care’! It’s part of my whole ‘bad boy’ image.” He tossed his hair.

You’re bleeding,” Fitz interrupted, lifting Sophie’s hand and examining her palm. Thin streams of red dripped down her skin. “These look bad, Sophie. You should get them treated.” “I’m fine,” she said, trying not to think about the blood, or the fact that Fitz was technically holding her hand, since both things made her head spin way too fast. “Really. It’s not a big deal. We don’t need to call Elwin.

When so much has been uprooted—so many things lost—one must seek comfort in rituals. Even the sad ones.

Together they were sacrosanct.

But now she dreamed every night of lost things.

Cool, your window is right across from mine!” Keefe said, opening Sophie’s curtains. “We could throw things at each other!

Keefe leaned his head against her shoulder and Sophie counted his breaths, considering what a strange thing grief turned out to be. Grady and Edaline closed themselves off. Fitz pushed everyone away. She couldn’t figure out how Keefe was handling it all yet. But she was glad he wanted her to stay. Their

We can’t always win and we can’t always be happy. But the one thing that we can always do is try. There will always be Baylee-Trashcan Johnsons”—a twitch of a smile crossed Daisy’s face—“ and you can’t change that. But you can change how she makes you feel.

But he couldn’t help leaning back against a lantern and staring at the sky, where the full moon was peeking trough a swirl of clouds, and imagining Foster back at Havenfield doing the same thing.

Keefe stepped closer. “I know. It’s one of the things I like about you.” Her stomach filled with fluttering things, which flitted around even more when she noticed how close they were now standing. The toes of their boots were almost touching, and his breath felt warm on her cheeks. Someone cleared their throat, reminding them they weren’t alone. When Sophie turned, she found Grady glaring and Edaline smiling that goofy smile again. She couldn’t decide which was worse. “We’re heading home—” Grady started. “But you don’t have to leave with us,” Edaline finished. “Just make sure you let us know where you are if you decide to go somewhere.” Grady started to say something else, but Edaline created a path of light and whisked him away. “That was weird,” Sophie mumbled, sure her face was bright red. “Yeah,” Keefe said, his cheeks flushed too—but that was probably from the freezing wind. “So you really don’t want to come over?” she asked. “Even for a little while?” “I . . . can’t. But you should go to Dex’s. Or go hang with my buddy Bangs Boy.” “Still refusing to call him Tam, huh?

Hang on,” Keefe interrupted, turning to Alvar. “You seriously allowed them to erase your memories, torture you, drug you, abandon you, almost kill you—and let you rot for months in a miserable prison cell—all in hopes that the Council would move you back to Everglen so you could . . . open a gate?” “It was not about the task,” Vespera answered for Alvar. “It was about proving his value.” “By opening a gate,” Keefe insisted. “That’s . . . the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Sophie had to agree.

Most of it was boring stuff. Complaints he was getting about tomorrow’s healing. Something about Grady not making any progress on the dwarves. But there was one thing I knew I had to tell you. A goblin patrol found some new tracks outside the Sanctuary. They were far away from the gates, and whoever made them was only there briefly. But one of the footprints definitely belonged to an ogre.

Fitz offered Sophie his arm, and she tried to ignore the way her insides fluttered at the gesture. He was probably only doing it because everyone knew that climbing things wasn’t her strengths- particularly when she was wearing heels. But her face grew warm as she hooked her elbow around his. It hit even warmer when he told her, “I’m glad you’re here.

I killed Wonderboy,” Dex whispered, not helping things.

Looks like an encyclopedia. I read the whole thing from A to Z by the time I was six.

Humans think it’s the oldest living thing on the planet. But clearly they’ve never met Bronte.

Okay, you guys are doing that staring into each other’s eyes thing,” Keefe said, “and it’s a lot creepier when it’s Sophorkle.

I like this girl,” Ro decided. “Just don’t call me a ‘thing’ again.

I'd rather be punished for doing the right thing than live with the guilt of doing the wrong one.

And women with red shoes and green handbags were never to be trusted.

And remember, change can be a powerful, inspiring thing when we keep an open mind.

Before the ink could dry on her words of excuse, they were smudged with guilt.

[WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!]

You haven’t lost Dex,” Keefe promised. “Trust the Empath!” When she didn’t smile, he leaned in and whispered, “And here’s another thing you can count on. You’ll never lose me.

Guilt is a treacherous thing. It creeps in slowly, breaking you down bit by bit.

It wasn’t the sunlight that poked fun at Laura’s imperfections, but the darkness with its looming doubts that mocked her in the sleepless spells that broke the night.

Lilia’s own mother had taught her two things; dress for oneself, and marry for love.

If you never get sadness, how do you know what happy is like?

Bomber said that the wonderful thing about books was that they were films that played inside your head.

Her grandmother had once told her that one could blame ugliness on one’s genes and ignorance on one’s education, but there was absolutely no excuse whatsoever for being dull.

Okay, I can buy us some time,” Dex said, “but I’m going to have to ruin the obscurer.” “Is that the only way?” Fitz asked. “No, I thought it’d be fun to make things extra hard and dangerous!

Probably.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d need a stuffed animal to sleep. But . . . I never knew I needed a lot of things before I met you.” Somehow he’d moved closer, and Sophie’s throat went dry as he reached up and touched her braid again. Their eyes locked, and when his lips parted they seemed to curve with a different word than the one he eventually said. “Anyway. We don’t have a lot of time before the rest of the Foster Fan Club gets here, so I’m going to ask this fast—and I want a real answer, not that distract-and-avoid thing you’re becoming a master at. You’re planning to reach out to my mom, aren’t you? To ask her to take us to Nightfall?

Time is a funny thing. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. But then it passes on to someone else. You’ll do great things with it. Wonderful, incredible things. I’m sorry I won’t be able to see them. But don’t let that stop you from living them. Dream. Fight. Love. Take risks. Allow yourself to be happy.

It was not about the task,” Vespera answered for Alvar. “It was about proving his value.” “By opening a gate,” Keefe insisted. “That’s . . . the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Sophie had to agree.

You told That Boy about this?” Grady interrupted. “He didn’t make you feel embarrassed, did he? Or pressure you to—” “Actually, he told me no one would care about the unmatchable thing,” Sophie corrected. “Well, not anyone who mattered, at least.” Edaline’s smile practically glowed. “That was very sweet of him—not that I’m surprised.” Grady snorted. “And he’s absolutely right,” Edaline added, elbowing Grady in the ribs.

More memories flooded Sophie’s head of Silveny’s life at the Sanctuary—everything clean and comfortable and cared for. Plenty of food. Plenty to do. Flying with Greyfell. Chasing Greyfell. Playing with Greyfell. Wait—that wasn’t playing. . . . “Gah!” Sophie said, shoving the last images out of her mind. TMI, Silveny. Too. Much. Information! She knew it was supposed to be a natural, beautiful thing. But ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

I think it's best if I don't let you finish that sentence," Ro jumped in. "The probability of you making things worse is muuuuuuuuuuch too high. And since I'm being more helpful than you deserve, I'll also add that now might be a good time for you to tell us how you're feeling -- and spoiler alert: 'Fine' is not the correct answer.

Iggy’s fur and Ro’s hair were now deep shades of purple, blue, and gray, with each color fading into the next in an ombré effect. It reminded Sophie of the night sky, right before the stars appear—and it was definitely an improvement from the weird mermaid-tiger thing Iggy had going on before. But… Keefe’s final gift was gone. Just like him.

I know it is likely that most of the things are worthless, and no one will want them back. But if you can make just one person happy, mend one broken heart by restoring to them what they have lost, then it will have all been worthwhile.

And hey,” Grady added, “if this makes you decide to put the whole dating thing on hold for a while, I can definitely get behind that—OW!” He pulled back from the hug, rubbing the tender part of his arm where Edaline must have pinched him.

Dreary beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the fate of this complication, to join together this man, Saint Anthony’ –she tapped the top of his urn –‘and this woman, The Lady of the Flowers’ –gesturing towards the photograph with an upturned palm –‘in holy macaroni which is the honourable estate. Saint Anthony takes The Lady of the Flowers to be the lawful wedding wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, richer or poorer, to love and to perish with death now you start. And it still rhymes,’ she added proudly to herself. She paused again, long enough this time for it to be almost uncomfortable, but no doubt with the intention of underscoring the sanctity of the occasion. ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, funky to punky. We know Major Tom’s a monkey. We can be heroes just for today.

Let him go, Lord Cassius told her. He’s better off where he is. And he can handle himself. How can you be so sure? He sighed, and his mind rumbled again—shaking and shaking and shaking, until several dim memories rose up from the shadows. Sophie’s chest tightened as she watched the scenes from Keefe’s childhood. So many tears. So many lectures. So little warmth or support or love. I’ll only say this once, he told her, and I’ll deny it if you ever bring it up again. But… if there’s one thing I know about my son, it’s that he’s a survivor. And if he could endure more than a decade at Candleshade with his mother and me, he can handle anything the humans throw at him. Let him take care of himself. He’s been doing it his whole life.

. . . kinda had to after I got tangled in a chandelier my first night home. Seriously? Sophie cracked up as she tried to imagine that. Oh, it was way more humiliating than what you’re thinking, he told her, sharing his actual memories of the way the strings of crystals seemed to wrap around him like sparkly tentacles. How did you even manage to do that? she wondered. No idea. I was just trying to get upstairs and I launched myself too high, and then my sleeve got caught and I tried to untangle it and next thing I knew Biana was collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles and my dad was calling for the gnomes. It took five of them to free me. They had to stand on each other’s shoulders in a giant gnome stack. Sophie was laughing so hard that Sandor peeked his head into her room, probably making sure she wasn’t losing her mind. I wish I’d been there, she told Fitz.

So that’s how you de-Forkle!” Dex said. “I should’ve guessed it was callowberries. My dad uses them in his anti-inflammatory ointments. They smell like flareadon poop.” “Taste like it too,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “So all we need to do is crush a few of those into your breakfast, and bam! Instant Forkle-reveal?” Keefe asked. “I’ve been consuming callowberries for thirteen years, Mr. Sencen. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the smell?” “I dunno—I’m really good at hiding things in people’s food.” Mr. Forkle ignored him,

Damn, Josie. Are you trying to kill me?” She glanced back my way. “Not particularly right now. Why?” I didn’t even try to stop staring. It would have been a wasted effort. “Because that dress is enough to give a man a heart attack if you come any closer, or break a man’s heart if you walk away.” “Now lines like that help me understand why you’ve got a reputation for being such a ladies man.” “That wasn’t even my best one.” (…) That kind of dress could bring a man to his knee to propose, even if that had been the furthest thing from his mind when he woke up that morning. Hell, it was bringing me close to a proposal, and I was dead set against anything marriage related.

Laura looked unconvinced, but Sunshine had a point to make. “If you never get sadness, how do you know what happy is like?” she asked. “And by the way, everybody dies.” “I think she has you in checkmate there,” Freddy murmured. Laura conceded defeat with a reluctant smile.

When we reflect that her century was the brutalest, the wickedest, the rottenest in history since the darkest ages, we are lost in wonder at the miracle of such a product from such a soil. The contrast between her and her century is the contrast between day and night. She was truthful when lying was the common speech of men; she was honest when honesty was become a lost virtue; she was a keeper of promises when the keeping of a promise was expected of no one; she gave her great mind to great thoughts and great purposes when other great minds wasted themselves upon pretty fancies or upon poor ambitions; she was modest, and fine, and delicate when to be loud and coarse might be said to be universal; she was full of pity when a merciless cruelty was the rule; she was steadfast when stability was unknown, and honorable in an age which had forgotten what honor was; she was a rock of convictions in a time when men believed in nothing and scoffed at all things; she was unfailingly true to an age that was false to the core; she maintained her personal dignity unimpaired in an age of fawnings and servilities; she was of a dauntless courage when hope and courage had perished in the hearts of her nation; she was spotlessly pure in mind and body when society in the highest places was foul in both—she was all these things in an age when crime was the common business of lords and princes, and when the highest personages in Christendom were able to astonish even that infamous era and make it stand aghast at the spectacle of their atrocious lives black with unimaginable treacheries, butcheries, and beastialities.

And hey,” Grady added, “if this makes you decide to put the whole dating thing on hold for a while, I can definitely get behind that—OW!

Never is a long time,” Mr. Forkle told Sophie. “Most things tend to be much more temporary.

If this is a crush thing, you can do better.” “It’s not a crush thing,” Sophie said, ignoring Keefe’s snickers.

Whoa, let’s not add projectile vomiting to the list of Awesome Things We Get To Do Today,” Keefe said, clutching his stomach.

Woo-hoo!” Ro said as Sophie headed for the door. “Bring on the skin melting! Things are finally getting interesting here in Sparkle Town!

So . . . might as well find out if the whole ‘almost dying’ thing is as miserable as you guys make it look, or if you’re just being babies about it.

Her only escape was in films and books. She read as though her life depended on it.

THE THING IS…” SOPHIE KNEW she was about to sound like one of the boring, lecture-y adults she’d rolled her eyes at lots of times over the last few years.

Probably because the Wanderlings are living things. Would it be right to kill them, simply because we planted them by mistake?

They ate fish and chips for supper on Fridays, and salmon sandwiches and fruit salad with tinned cream for Sunday tea.

The “scattering of ashes” had always sounded like such an ethereal act to Laura, but in reality, she reflected, it was more akin to emptying a vacuum-cleaner bag.

if I rescued every lost thing I found, someone would rescue the one thing left in the world that I really cared about and one day I might get it back

The house was untainted by the tinnitus of technology. There was no computer, no television, no DVD or CD player.

Amy gasped. “Did that hurt?” “Of course,” Mr. Forkle told her, lowering his shirt back into place. “Definitely one of the top ten most painful things I’ve ever experienced.

The dream was always the same. Endlessly searching and never finding the one thing that would finally bring him peace.

If you’d been there, the only thing that’d be different right now is that Elwin would have another patient.” “And there’s no guarantee I would’ve saved you,” Tam added with a smirk.

You are many things, Mr. Sencen, but quiet is not one of them.” “So you’re saying I’m a beauty?” Mr. Forkle scowled. “We’re trying to have a private conversation.” “Then you shouldn’t have it in a common room.” Keefe plopped into one of the boulder-beanbag chairs, propping up his feet. “And by the way, Sir Astin? How’d you pull off being a Mentor while you were living next to Sophie in human land?” “That is a secret I’m not willing to share.” Keefe got up and circled Mr. Forkle. “I bet if I really think about it I can guess the other yous.

No idea. All I know is it tasted like kissing a muskog.” “And you have a lot of experience with that?” “Hey, I never say no to a dare!” “Wait—you seriously kissed a muskog?” Sophie asked, remembering the burpy froglike thing Stina had put in Dex’s locker once. Keefe hiccupped again. “I’ve kissed lots of things! Just ask Biana.” “You kissed Biana?” “A couple years ago, yeah,” he mumbled. “Mostly on the cheek.” “What do you mean by ‘mostly’?” “You want a demonstration?” “Um . . . I think I’ll pass.” She was sure her face was redder than Mr. Snuggles.

sparkles or jewels aren’t your thing, there’s always embroidery to add stylish detail! (Or a fun slogan! My next tunic is going to say: “You should stare—I’m letting you see me right now!”)

Besides, we all know what you really care about is—” “The fact that they’re shaped like tiny elves!” Keefe said, clapping his hands before he pointed to the label. “Hang on—they call them ‘elfwiches’?” “They do, Keefe. They do. And that’s not even the best part.” “AHHHHHH LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE FACES!” Keefe shouted as he peeled back the plastic cover. “THIS IS THE GREATEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN—EVER!

The rare river pearls were known for causing frenzied dreams and flashbacks. “I was careful,” he promised. “And it was hilarious,” Ro added. “One night he got out of bed and started doing a wiggle dance in his sleep and singing about Prattles pins. And another time he decided he was a baby alicorn and dropped to his hands and knees and galloped all over the house, whinnying. Greatest thing I’ve ever seen.

The people of jewel," said Olga Ciavolga,"treat their children like delicate flowers. They think they will not survive without constant protection. But there are parts of the world where young boys and girls spend weeks at a time with no company except a herd of goats. They chase away wolves. They take care of themselves, and they take care of the herd. And so, when hard times come - as they always do in the end - those children are resourceful and brave. If they have to walk from one end of the county to the other, carrying their baby brother and sisters, they will do it. If they have to hide during the day and travel at night to avoid soldiers, they will do it. They do not give up easily." The tunnel took a sharp right-hand turn and, for a moment, the old woman s voice was lost. Something dropped onto Goldie's arm, and she opened her mouth to yelp - and thought of those children carrying their baby brothers and sisters through the night - and closed her mouth and kept going. She rounded the corner in time to hear Olga Ciavolga murmur,"Of course, I am not saying that it is a good thing to give children such heavy responsibility's. They must be allowed to have a childhood. But they must also be allowed to find their courage and their wisdom, and learn when to stand and when to run away. After all, if they are not permitted to climb the trees, how will they ever see the great and wonderful world that lies before them?

Uh . . . you’ve seen how cute she is, right?” Keefe asked. Sophie flung a pillow at his head. Or, she tried to. Throwing with her left arm was much harder than she’d expected, and . . . She ended up nailing Magnate Leto in the face. Keefe doubled over, clutching his sides and gasping between choking laughs: “THAT . . . WAS . . . THE . . . GREATEST . . . THING . . . I’VE . . . EVER . . . SEEN!” “IT WAS!” Ro agreed,

Keefe wrapped his arm around Sophie. “Foster gets all worked up when she’s trying to protect me.” “That’s not what this is about!” Sophie snapped, pulling away. “Though would it kill you to do the smart thing, just once, and actually listen to someone when they’re giving you good advice, instead of thinking you know everything and doing whatever you want?” Keefe considered that for a second. “Yeah, that might actually kill me.

Amy reached for her eyelashes, giving them a good, hard tug—then winced. “Ugh, Sophie, how can you stand that?” Sophie smiled. “We all have our things.” “Well, yours is weird,” Amy told her. “And your world is even weirder.

That’s absolutely what they want,” Ro interrupted. “Isn’t that obvious? I mean . . . they exploded your bones—and filled you with those echo things, and—” “Uh, we’re supposed to be keeping her calm, remember?” Keefe cut in.

Dex leaned in. “Um, I’m pretty sure it’s your call, since you’re the one in charge—unless you want us to choose for you. How about Lady Sophie the Reluctant?” “Very funny,” Sophie told him as Biana covered her mouth to muffle her giggle. “I kinda like Foster the Great,” Dex went on, oblivious to her annoyance—or perhaps because of it. “But I still feel like we could do better. Hmmm. Wait! I’ve got it!” He paused for a beat, dragging out the suspense before he leaned in and whispered, “The Fos-Boss.” “Ohhhhh, I like it!” Biana breathed. “I vote for that too,” Wylie added as he leaned in. “Then it’s settled,” Dex decided. “Unless you think Lady Fos-Boss is better.” “Yes!” Biana said, fighting to hold back another giggle. “That’s the winner.” Sophie gave them each her deadliest glare. “If you call me either of those things, I swear I’ll—” “And she thought she was going to have a hard time bossing us around,” Dex whispered to Biana and Wylie. “Looks like our fearless Lady Fos-Boss is a natural leader.” This time even Wylie had to muffle his laughter. “You guys are worse than Keefe,” Sophie grumbled, wondering if she could smother them with her frilly gown.

Sophie had been thinking the same thing about Keefe. He’d said he wouldn’t cross the hard lines—but would he count Wylie as one of them? Or would it be one of those “shady things” he was willing to do in order to keep playing the game?

Like… choosing moments to bend the rules of telepathy—or break them. Or when to teleport to important places, even if they’re technically forbidden.” “So… things you already do—but now you wouldn’t get in trouble for them,” Grady teased,

All the more reason we need to make Team We’re-Having-More-Fun-Than-You-Are! a thing. Come on, Fitzy—I’m sure Linh would be okay with you as our fearless leader. Then you can order everyone around and I can call you Lord Bossypants. It’s a win-win!

You want a bag of Fitz’s barf?” Keefe asked, snapping out of his daze. “Wow, that’s even too gross for me.” Physic shrugged. “It’s not even in the top ten grossest things I’ve done.” “What’s in the top ten?” Keefe asked. “I’ll tell you another time.

I suppose,” Sophie said slowly. “But what happened to the whole ‘no one will be asking anyone to put their life in serious danger’ promise you made earlier?” “I was about to remind him of the same thing,” Sandor growled. “I said serious danger,” Mr. Forkle argued.

Silveny’s pregnant,” Sophie said, and all the scrolls went THUNK! “Are you certain?” Granite whispered, bending to gather the uncurling paper. Sophie nodded, and Mr. Forkle rushed to her side. “Tell me everything.” “And I’m out!” Keefe said, covering his ears and singing, “LALALALALA! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” as he raced up the stairs to the boys’ tree house. Fitz, Dex, and Biana followed—but not before Granite gave them scrolls and asked them to put them somewhere safe. It was a good thing they left, because Mr. Forkle wanted all the details.

That was one of the most striking things I noticed during my years living among them,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Each generation dumps their problems on the next because they simply do not have enough time to deal with them. I suspect that if they could see a bigger picture, they would not destroy themselves and their planet the same way.” Sophie nodded, remembering some of the thoughts she’d heard growing up. Death truly was humans’ constant companion. Maybe if it wasn’t, they’d care more about others and take the time to do things the right way.

Uh . . . you’ve seen how cute she is, right?” Keefe asked. Sophie flung a pillow at his head. Or, she tried to. Throwing with her left arm was much harder than she’d expected, and . . . She ended up nailing Magnate Leto in the face. Keefe doubled over, clutching his sides and gasping between choking laughs: “THAT . . . WAS . . . THE . . . GREATEST . . . THING . . . I’VE . . . EVER . . . SEEN!” “IT WAS!” Ro agreed, nearly collapsing to the floor in a fit of giggles. Fitz and Elwin were cracking up too—though they at least tried to cover it with coughs. Sophie slunk down under her covers. “Sorry.” “It’s all right, Miss Foster,” Magnate Leto said, handing her back her pillow. “It’s good to see you regaining some strength.” Keefe wiped the tears streaming down his cheeks. “You realize I’m going to call you Principal Pillowhead from now on, right?

Cognate—RAWR? Is that the technical term?” “I mean, I can talk about the ‘staring into each other’s eyes’ thing if you really want me to.” Sophie held Iggy close and whispered, “Feel free to go fart on him.” Instead, Iggy blinked his watery green eyes and unleashed a belly-shaking burp.

In this world, Daisy, we are tiny. We can’t always win and we can’t always be happy. But the one thing that we can always do is try. There will always be Baylee-Trashcan Johnsons”—a twitch of a smile crossed Daisy’s face—“and you can’t change that. But you can change how she makes you feel.

He drank milk and fruit juice straight from the carton, ate with his elbows on the table, held his knife like a pen, and spoke with his mouth full. Each on its own was a small thing, like the many other small things he did and said that Laura tried to ignore, but nonetheless chafed her soul.

KNOWN ABILITIES: Empath [DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING ELSE MY MOM TELLS YOU] RESIDENCE: The Shores of Solace and Candleshade [ANYONE WANNA TRADE LIVES WITH ME?] IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Lord Cassius Sencen (father); Lady Gisela Sencen (mother) [AKA: WORST. PARENTS. EVER!] MATCH STATUS: Unregistered [TRY NOT TO BE TOO HEARTBROKEN, PEOPLE] [THOUGH I GOTTA SAY: I DON’T REALLY GET WHY EVERYONE PAYS SO MUCH ATTENTION TO THIS.] EDUCATION: Current Foxfire prodigy [AND PROUD DETENTION RECORD–HOLDER] NEXUS: No longer required [BECAUSE I’M COOL LIKE THAT] PATHFINDER: Not assigned. Restricted to Leapmasters and home crystals. [HA, THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK!] SPYBALL APPROVAL: None [BUT I HAVE FRIENDS WITH CONNECTIONS, THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING.…] MEMBER OF THE NOBILITY: No [THANK GOODNESS] TITLE: None [UM, HELLO, WHAT ABOUT LORD HUNKYHAIR? THAT’S A THING!] NOBLE ASSIGNMENT: None [MASTER MISCHIEF-MAKER] SIGNIFICANT CONNECTIONS: Fealty-sworn member of the Black Swan; former Wayward at Exillium; son to one of the leaders of the Neverseen [SWORN PROTECTOR OF THE MYSTERIOUS MISS F] ASSIGNED BODYGUARD(S): Ro (ogre) [AND SHE KNOWS, LIKE, 500,000 WAYS TO KILL YOU! SO IT’S REALLY NOT A GOOD IDEA TO MESS WITH US!]

Things I know about Wraith He’s a Vanisher, so all I ever see is his floating silver cloak. According to Della, making the body disappear while leaving the clothes visible is called a “layered vanish,” and it’s super hard to do. Huh. That’s all I know. I don’t even have any theories about his identity!

It’s one of those Things That Only Happen to Foster,” Keefe jumped in as Sophie tried to calculate the odds of successfully flinging a piece of furniture through one of her bedroom windows, levitating to freedom, and teleporting to a new life—maybe with Silveny, Greyfell, and their twin babies in a nice, peaceful meadow somewhere.

for the teens who were the first one that classmate with the wild hair and the dark makeup and the frightened eyes told about the things that were happening at home. the secret keepers, the unpaid crisis responders, the ones who took frantic calls at all hours of the night and went to the high school guidance counselor ostensibly for assessment for therapy, for support for the scars on their arms, but mostly to figure out how to become therapists themselves, because no adult can help a kid the way another kid can. for the ones who grew up to be social workers and nurses and psychologists and any other flavor of professional helper, because they were already doing the helping, so they might as well get paid for it too. because helping and holding and listening and caring were the only times we felt we knew what we were doing, even though we had no idea. because that was the way that other people loved us. because maybe, we thought in our secret hearts, that’s all we were good for. caregiver, i see you.

Ro giggled. “The adorable obliviousness strikes again!” Keefe rolled his eyes and tugged on the hem of his tunic—which was still inside out, Sophie realized. “Fine. Now that you and Fitz are dating—” “We’re not,” she interrupted. “I know, I know—not officially. But come on, Foster. You guys are totally a ‘thing.’ Fitz told me the whole sappy story about his big confession. And yours.” He kicked one of his shoes across the room. “That’s ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Ro added as Sophie’s cheeks reached nuclear levels of heat. “Though I did enjoy the part where you bailed on Pretty Boy right before all the smooching.” “I didn’t bail on him,” Sophie mumbled, refusing to look at anybody. “Silveny went into labor, and we had to go save her and the babies.” “Don’t you just hate when that happens?” Ro teased. “And that doesn’t explain why you and Swoony Boy still haven’t…” She puckered her lips and made horrifyingly loud kissy sounds. “Or have you?” They… hadn’t—but no way was Sophie answering that question.

UGH, SCROLLS ARE SERIOUSLY THE worst,” Sophie grumbled, wrestling with a particularly stubborn piece of paper that kept rolling back up the second she tried to smooth it out on the kitchen table. “Why do we still use them? Even humans moved on a few centuries ago. Now they have this handy thing called Google Maps—you should really check it out.

[WAIT—IT WON’T LET ME REDACT THESE LITTLE SUBHEADING THINGS? THAT’S SUPER ANNOYING!] [FINE, I’LL JUST GIVE YOU MY SUMMARY.] [SO, WHOEVER WROTE THIS WAS ALL BLAH-BLAH-BLAH-STELLARLUNE-SOMETHING-SOMETHING-LEGACY. BUT SERIOUSLY, NO ONE WANTS TO READ ABOUT THE CREEPY STUFF MY MOM DID BEFORE SHE GOT PREGNANT WITH ME! (AND WE’RE ALL SUPER SICK OF HEARING ABOUT MY “LEGACY,” AMIRITE?) SO, LET’S JUST LEAVE IT AT THIS: MY MOM IS EVIL. SHE THINKS SHE’S WAY SMARTER THAN SHE IS. AND NOTHING SHE DID IS GOING TO AFFECT MY GENERAL AWESOMENESS, OKAY?] A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY: [WOW, HOW DID YOU COME UP WITH SUCH A CLEVER TITLE?!] [AND YEAH, I HAVE A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY. NOT SURE WHY ANYONE CARES. BUT IT DOES COME IN HANDY DURING MIDTERMS AND FINALS.] AHEAD OF THE GAME: [BASICALLY: I’M A GENIUS. I SKIPPED LEVEL ONE AT FOXFIRE. YES, YOU SHOULD BE IMPRESSED.] UNREASONABLY HIGH STANDARDS: [GOTTA ADMIT, I WAS TEMPTED TO LEAVE THIS ONE ALONE, SINCE WHOEVER WROTE IT ACTUALLY GOT THINGS PRETTY MUCH RIGHT. I GUESS EVEN THE COUNCIL KNOWS MY DAD’S A JERK WHO FREAKS OUT ALL THE TIME BECAUSE I’M NOT A LITTLE MINI-HIM. WHO KNEW?] A POWERFUL EMPATH: [UGH, THAT’S THE BEST YOU COULD DO FOR THIS SUBHEADING???] [HOW ABOUT “LORD OF THE FEELS”? OR “TRUST THE EMPATH”! OR “HE KNOWS WHAT YOU’RE FEELING—AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF”?] [OOO! I’VE GOT IT! “HE KNOWS FOSTER BETTER THAN YOU DO! BETTER THAN SHE EVEN KNOWS HERSELF!”] [THOUGH… KEEPING IT REAL? THE FOSTER OBLIVION CAN BE KINDA NOT COOL SOMETIMES.] THE HEART OF THE MATTER: [I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS NAMED A SECTION OF MY FILE AFTER MY FATHER’S SUPER-BORING BOOK—AND THEN RAMBLED ON FOR TWO PAGES ABOUT HIS SUPER-BORING THEORY!!!!!] [YOU DON’T NEED TWO PAGES ON IT. YOU DON’T EVEN NEED TWO SENTENCES. HERE’S ALLLLLL YOU NEED TO KNOW—BESIDES THE FACT THAT HE’S TOTALLY NOT THE FIRST PERSON TO COME UP WITH THIS (JUST THE ONE WHO LOVES TO TAKE CREDIT): OUR HEADS AND OUR HEARTS SOMETIMES FEEL DIFFERENT EMOTIONS, AND WHAT’S IN OUR HEARTS IS PROBABLY STRONGER.] [THAT’S IT!] [WELL… OKAY… I GUESS HE ALSO GOES ON A BIT ABOUT HOW EMPATHS PROBABLY ONLY READ THE EMOTIONS FROM THE HEAD.] [AND THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT HEART EMOTIONS BEING PURER BECAUSE NO ONE CAN CONTROL THEM.] [BUT THAT’S IT.] [AND DON’T TELL LORD BORINGPANTS I READ HIS DUMB BOOK! I MOSTLY SKIMMED.] PRANKSTER AND TROUBLEMAKER: [100 PERCENT ACCURATE. ALSO, I’M LEAVING YOUR LITTLE ATTACHED DETENTION RECORD BECAUSE IT’S THE GREATEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!!!!]

Things I know about Blur He’s a Phaser and only lets himself partially re-form, so all I can see are blurry splotches of color sort of shaped like an elf. One time, I did get a slightly better glimpse of him, and I could tell he was skinny with full lips and round cheeks. But I still didn’t recognize him. Wow. That’s all I know about him—though I have a few theories for who he might be…

WHOA, EDALINE WASN’T KIDDING about the whole ‘Lady Sophie’ thing,” Keefe murmured, making Sophie jump—and then reel on Sandor for not giving her a heads-up that she had people waiting for her in her bedroom. Sandor shrugged. Clearly he was still annoyed with her for leaving the planet without him—as if the edge of the earth’s atmosphere was somehow the perfect spot for a Neverseen ambush.

We should call this one Sophitz, since—let’s face it—Foster’s the real talent when it comes to this kind of thing.” Fitz didn’t argue, but Sophie sighed. “Keefe—” “Hear that, Ro?” he interrupted. “She’s giving me her serious voice.” “And that pout she does, with the big eyes and the little crease between her eyebrows,” Ro noted. “She’s definitely figured out how to use her cuteness against you.

Sorry, was I supposed to bow?” “If you had, I would’ve flung a pillow at your head,” she told him with a grin he didn’t return. “And you can forget the Lady Sophie thing, too.” “Thank goodness,” Ro said, dropping her feet from where she’d had them propped on Sophie’s desk. “I never would’ve been able to pull that off with a straight face. And, uh, please tell me this isn’t your permanent new wardrobe.

You would’ve enjoyed all the horrible team name suggestions that Dex and Biana kept bugging the Council with, though,” Sophie shouted over the abundance of snorts and gurgles. If that was what Ro actually sounded like when she slept, poor Keefe probably had to sleep with a pillow over his head. “I thought Emery was going to exile them at one point.” “Okay, now I’m interested,” Ro informed her. “And let’s hope Team Fancypants was the winner. Because I can almost forgive you for wearing all of those sparkly accessories if that’s what you’re making your stuffy Councillors call you.” “Wait,” Keefe said, before Sophie could respond. “Dex and Biana were there?” Sophie nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. Which actually made it a little easier to tell him. “Yeah. And Wylie. And Stina. I guess the Council decided I’m way more successful when I have backup—and they’re not wrong. But I’m still trying not to be insulted that they built this whole team because I’m useless alone. Oh—and you’ll love this. They wanted to name us Team Prodigious.” “Wow,” Ro said. “You guys shut that down, right?” “First thing we did,” Sophie agreed, pulling on a blissfully boring gray tunic and wishing all clothes could be

Is it okay if I enter your mind?” Fitz asked. “Dude, do you realize how creepy that sounds?” Keefe interrupted. “It’s less creepy than reading her feelings all the time without telling her,” Fitz argued. “Hey, it’s not like I try to do that! You’re just mad that Foster can’t hide things from me.” “Pretty soon, she won’t be hiding anything from me, either.” “Yeah, and I can feel how not excited she is about that all the way over here.

Things I know about Granite He takes a powder called indurite to make himself look like an unrecognizable half-carved statue. But he’s actually Sir Tiergan, my telepathy Mentor. So… he spent my first year or two in the Lost Cities lying to me all the time. But… that’s how it goes when you’re the moonlark, I guess. Huh… I don’t really know much else about him, other than all the stuff about Prentice and Wylie—but none of that really matters for this.

Things I know about Squall She’s a Froster and covers herself in a thick layer of ice to hide her identity. She’s actually Dex’s mom (Juline)—and technically my aunt. She joined the Black Swan after she had the triplets and saw how much scorn they were going to grow up with (unless something changed). She lied to her family to hide what she was doing—especially Dex and Kesler. Unfortunately, that’s how it goes with the Black Swan. And… that’s pretty much it.

A huge, goofy grin spread across her lips as both Sandor and Grizel flushed bright pink. “Oh my goodness—that’s the sweetest thing EVER!” Sandor groaned. “As if they don’t tease us about our relationship enough already!” “I’m not going to tease you,” Sophie promised. “But Keefe will,” Fitz jumped in. “And I’m sure he’s going to be here any second, so—” “Actually, Keefe said he wasn’t getting anywhere near you and a bunch of weapons right now,” Sophie told him.

You’re not healed,” she warned Fitz. “You’re going to need another week of recovery for that. And you’ll need to drink a vile tea every morning.” “Did you say ‘vile’?” Della asked. “Oh yeah—it’s nasty stuff. But so is getting impaled by a giant bug.” She set a jar on the table filled with seven spiky red flowers. “Steep one hollowthistle into a cup of boiling water and make him down the whole thing in one gulp. Try not to throw it up,” she told Fitz. “And no getting out of this bed except for essential things.” “So, like, a few rounds of tackle bramble?” Keefe asked. “Very funny,” Physic said. “But seriously—no. Fitz will look worse before he gets better. Just know that’s part of the process. I promise he’ll be his old self by the seventh cup.” “Can’t I just down all seven cups right now?” Fitz asked. “Not unless you want your insides to liquefy.” “Am I the only one who thinks that would be kind of cool?” Keefe asked, earning another laugh from Physic.

IT MAY LOOK FUNKY, BUT THE TWIGGLER HACKED THROUGH LUMENARIA’S SECURITY AND HELPED SAVE THE GNOMES! FIRST: THIS IS A PANIC SWITCH—NOT A BORING COGNATE RING. IT ALSO SAVED SOPHIE’S LIFE TWICE. AND IT WORKS SO WELL THAT I’VE BEEN MAKING THEM FOR EVERYONE I CARE ABOUT! THE EVADER MAKES IT SUPER EASY TO HACK INTO THINGS LIKE THE REGISTRY—AND IT LEAVES NO TRACE THAT I WAS THERE! (WELL, UNLESS I CHANGE STUFF…) NOW I JUST NEED TO MAKE A FEW TWEAKS SO I CAN BYPASS THE SECURITY ON CERTAIN FILES.

Timkin Heks hailed me to help Keefe, who was having some sort of emotional meltdown (among other things). And I checked on Sophie while I was there. SYMPTOMS/INJURIES: Nothing I could find, except the usual signs that she’s been pushing herself too hard and risking her life. TREATMENT: A bunch more elixirs. And another hug! NOTES: Sophie asked me to get Keefe an Emotional Support Stuffed Animal. Gotta admire how she’s always taking care of her friends. Wish I could get her to take better care of herself!

ultimately, most of us would choose a rich and meaningful life over an empty, happy one, if such a thing is even possible. “Misery serves a purpose,” says psychologist David Myers. He’s right. Misery alerts us to dangers. It’s what spurs our imagination. As Iceland proves, misery has its own tasty appeal. A headline on the BBC’s website caught my eye the other day. It read: “Dirt Exposure Boosts Happiness.” Researchers at Bristol University in Britain treated lung-cancer patients with “friendly” bacteria found in soil, otherwise known as dirt. The patients reported feeling happier and had an improved quality of life. The research, while far from conclusive, points to an essential truth: We thrive on messiness. “The good life . . . cannot be mere indulgence. It must contain a measure of grit and truth,” observed geographer Yi-Fu Tuan. Tuan is the great unheralded geographer of our time and a man whose writing has accompanied me throughout my journeys. He called one chapter of his autobiography “Salvation by Geography.” The title is tongue-in-cheek, but only slightly, for geography can be our salvation. We are shaped by our environment and, if you take this Taoist belief one step further, you might say we are our environment. Out there. In here. No difference. Viewed that way, life seems a lot less lonely. The word “utopia” has two meanings. It means both “good place” and “nowhere.” That’s the way it should be. The happiest places, I think, are the ones that reside just this side of paradise. The perfect person would be insufferable to live with; likewise, we wouldn’t want to live in the perfect place, either. “A lifetime of happiness! No man could bear it: It would be hell on Earth,” wrote George Bernard Shaw, in his play Man and Superman. Ruut Veenhoven, keeper of the database, got it right when he said: “Happiness requires livable conditions, but not paradise.” We humans are imminently adaptable. We survived an Ice Age. We can survive anything. We find happiness in a variety of places and, as the residents of frumpy Slough demonstrated, places can change. Any atlas of bliss must be etched in pencil. My passport is tucked into my desk drawer again. I am relearning the pleasures of home. The simple joys of waking up in the same bed each morning. The pleasant realization that familiarity breeds contentment and not only contempt. Every now and then, though, my travels resurface and in unexpected ways. My iPod crashed the other day. I lost my entire music collection, nearly two thousand songs. In the past, I would have gone through the roof with rage. This time, though, my anger dissipated like a summer thunderstorm and, to my surprise, I found the Thai words mai pen lai on my lips. Never mind. Let it go. I am more aware of the corrosive nature of envy and try my best to squelch it before it grows. I don’t take my failures quite so hard anymore. I see beauty in a dark winter sky. I can recognize a genuine smile from twenty yards. I have a newfound appreciation for fresh fruits and vegetables. Of all the places I visited, of all the people I met, one keeps coming back to me again and again: Karma Ura,

Plenty of food. Plenty to do. Flying with Greyfell. Chasing Greyfell. Playing with Greyfell. Wait—that wasn’t playing. . . . “Gah!” Sophie said, shoving the last images out of her mind. TMI, Silveny. Too. Much. Information! She knew it was supposed to be a natural, beautiful thing. But ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww. TRUST, Silveny told her. FRIEND. SHARE. That’s okay—you don’t have to share anymore, I’m good! But Silveny had something she needed to tell Sophie. A new word she’d learned, even though Sophie had never taught it to her. BABY.

I’m just saying, I’m pretty positive that you and Fitzy could solve this thing in five minutes if you went all Cognate—RAWR on Forkle’s memories. You’ve broken through his blocking before.” “Yeah, but I’m sure he has other defenses he’d start using once he figured out what we were trying to do.” “And that’s why you do it when he’s asleep.” Sophie frowned. “We don’t know where he lives—and even if we did, I’m sure he has all kinds of security and…” Her voice trailed off as Keefe exchanged a look with Ro that seemed to say, Isn’t our moonlark the cutest?

I’m not feeling a whole lot of gratitude from you here for all the effort I went through to bring you back your biscuit shopping list—plus bonus treats,” she pointed out. “You mean having Dizznee pull some money from your birth fund and then hitting up a shop for a couple of minutes?” Keefe asked. “Yeah, Dex told me all about how not exhausting that was last night, when he checked in to tell me how things went for you two in London, while someone was off doing something with Mr. Forkle that was clearly both frustrating and intense—as most things with Forkle tend to be.

Sophie’s brain darted to silly things like, Accio cache! Allons-y! Use the force! Bibbidy-Bobbidy-Boo! My preciousssssssssssssssssss. But then she remembered how when she was little and had moved to the “older kids’ school,” her parents gave her a code phrase to say if she ever wanted to be picked up and didn’t want anyone to know she’d called her parents. Her dad was a huge Sherlock Holmes fan, so he’d chosen “221B Baker Street.” She remembered complaining that no one could work those words into normal conversation, and her dad had just said, “But you’ll never forget them.

But then they hand you your beautiful baby, and the baby gazes up at you and says hello, and your heart just melts.” “It talks?” Sophie asked, then remembered Alden telling her months earlier that elvin babies spoke from birth. It sounded even stranger now that she could picture it. “Your speaking caused quite the uproar,” Mr. Forkle told her. “Though luckily no one could understand the Enlightened Language, so they thought you were babbling. I spent the majority of your infancy inventing excuses for the elvin things you did.” “Okay,” Sophie said, wishing he’d stop with the weird-info overload. “But what I mean is . . . I’ve been counting my age from my birthday.” Mr. Forkle didn’t look surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “How could I? Humans built everything around their birthdays. As long as you were living with them I had to let you do the same. And since you’ve been in the Lost Cities, we’ve had so little contact. I assumed someone would notice, since your proper ID is on your Foxfire record—and in the registry. But I don’t think anyone realized you were counting differently.” “Alden wouldn’t have thought to check,” Della agreed. “Neither of us knew humans didn’t count inception.” “So wait,” Biana jumped in, “does that mean that by our rules Sophie is—” “Thirty-nine weeks older than she’s been saying,” Mr. Forkle finished for her. Fitz cocked his head as he stared at Sophie, like everything had turned sideways. “So then you’re not thirteen . . .” “Not according to the way we count,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Going by Sophie’s ID, she’s fourteen and a little more than five months old.” Keefe laughed. “Only Foster would find a way to age nine months in a day. Also, welcome to the cool fourteen-year-olds club!” He held out his hand for a high five.

Or we could ask Grizel,” Biana suggested. She clearly meant it as a joke, but it was too close to the truth—and Sandor’s red-flushed cheeks gave him away. “You and Grizel?” Biana squealed. “Aaaah—that’s the cutest thing ever! How long have you been together?” “Since the attack at Havenfield,” Sophie said when Sandor was too busy scowling. Keefe reeled on her. “YOU KNEW GIGANTOR HAD A GIRLFRIEND AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?” “I think Sandor’s ready for us to change the subject,” Della noted. “Indeed, I’ve never seen a goblin blush,” Lady Cadence said, with a bigger smile than Sophie had ever seen her have.

I don’t know,” Keefe jumped in. “We like Gigantor, here, and he’s pretty funny-looking.” Sandor rolled his eyes. “Ask any of my people, and you’ll find no complaints about my appearance.” “Or we could ask Grizel,” Biana suggested. She clearly meant it as a joke, but it was too close to the truth—and Sandor’s red-flushed cheeks gave him away. “You and Grizel?” Biana squealed. “Aaaah—that’s the cutest thing ever! How long have you been together?” “Since the attack at Havenfield,” Sophie said when Sandor was too busy scowling. Keefe reeled on her. “YOU KNEW GIGANTOR HAD A GIRLFRIEND AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?

Whatever happened between you and Keefe yesterday—and I know something happened, so there’s no point trying to deny it—are you going to talk to him about it? And I mean really talk to him and tell him how you feel?” Sophie twisted free. “I don’t—” “Yes, you do,” Edaline insisted. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Edaline smiled. “Pretty sure I can guess. And I understand the instinct to hide these kinds of feelings—sometimes even from ourselves. But… I know they’re there. And not just for you.” She pointed to Sophie’s new stuffed elf as evidence—and Sophie could’ve sworn its little smile turned a bit smug. “I’m definitely not trying to tell you what to do or who to choose or put any pressure on you in any way,” Edaline assured her. “I also know that what I’m asking you to do isn’t easy. Having an open conversation about feelings with someone can be really scary. Especially when they’re also your friend. It’s natural to be afraid of getting hurt—or of ruining all the good things you already have. And I can’t guarantee that won’t happen. But”—she reached for Sophie’s arms again—“it’s still super important to have that conversation. Because it’s way too easy to jump to the wrong conclusion. So just… talk to him, okay? I’m not saying right this moment. But don’t let it go too long, either. And I know you’re going to tell me you have all these huge things going on and you need to focus on them, but… this is important. I can tell Keefe is important to you. So just… do what you always do when you’re getting ready to face some epic showdown with the Neverseen.” “You’re comparing this to a battle?” Sophie had to ask. “Why not? Sometimes relationships feel like that. So put your shields up if you need to. But don’t let that stop you from charging headfirst into the unknown. Be bold. Be brave. Be honest. And be you. You’re Sophie Foster. I know you can do this!

It was because of the war, Daddy had once confided in them--- everything she loved had been lost when that bomb fell on her family home... and turned her past to rubble. She'd been determined her children would never suffer the same fate. She might not be able to spare them every heartache, but she could damn well make sure they knew where to find their class photo when they wanted it. Their mother's passion for things, for possessions---objects that could be held in one's hands and invested with deeper meaning---had verged on obsessive, her enthusiasm for collecting so great that is was hard not to fall in line. Everything was kept; nothing thrown away; traditions adhered to religiously.

Oh please, you look amazing,” Sophie assured her. “Like always.” It wasn’t a lie. Even in a hall full of Vackers, Biana managed to shine. So did Fitz—though Sophie was trying not to notice. “Hey, Fitzy,” Keefe said, elbowing Fitz’s side. “Wanna join our bet on how long this Tribunal is going to last? You get to name your terms—oh, but if you lose, you’ll have to wear a metal diaper to school and call me Lord Hunkyhair from now on.” “Uh . . . yeah, no,” Fitz said as Biana asked, “Hunkyhair?” “Lord Hunkyhair,” Keefe corrected. “What? It’s accurate.” He tossed his head like he was in a shampoo commercial. “I think we need to make it a thing either way—don’t you, Foster?” “I think you’re ridiculous,” Sophie told him.

Hang on!” Ro said, stomping over to join them by the windows. “Did you just say that Pretty Boy’s not a part of this?” Her mouth fell open when Sophie nodded. “But… aren’t you two, like, a package deal? Team Obnoxious-Telepaths?” “We usually are,” Sophie agreed, ignoring the “obnoxious” part of that nickname. “But the Council wants to separate us. They think I rely too much on my telepathy and am not taking full advantage of my other abilities. So they want me to work on stuff without Fitz and see if it helps me widen my focus.” Ro blinked. “Wow! Okay—I officially take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about your Councillors! They’re my heroes! All hail the sparkle-fied twelve for breaking up the Great Fitzphie!

You know those sedative things you hate so much?” he asked. “We’d slip one into the Forklenator’s lunch when school’s back in session and he’s in Magnate Leto mode. Then you and Fitz would ditch your afternoon sessions, let me work my mad skills on the lock to his office, and ta-da! One conked-out Forkle drooling on his giant desk, just waiting to have his memories explored. You guys would have plenty of time to do your Telepath thing and slip back to study hall before he wakes up. I doubt he’d even know anything happened.” “Absolutely not!” Sandor snapped. “No one will be ditching sessions or drugging anybody!” Sophie had to agree, even if the less-than-noble part of herself couldn’t deny that the plan was solid.

Are you going to Slurps and Burps?” Dex asked. “My dad will get us anything you need. I could even go with you to make sure.” “You’re sweet to offer,” Physic told him, “but that would ruin my incognito thing.” She adjusted the tilt of her mask and glanced at Mr. Forkle. “You know it’s only a matter of time before I slip and use my real name, right? But today I’ll play along. And I actually need to go to a gnomish apothecary,” she told Dex. “They have a much better selection of feces.” “Is that in the top ten?” Keefe asked. “Not even close. And speaking of gross things, someone needs to stay here with Fitz and make sure he doesn’t choke on his vomit.” “Fun as that sounds,” Keefe jumped in, “I have a project to work on.

and helped her invent two flavor combinations. “How did you know that chocolate and mint is my favorite?” Fitz asked, peeling off the silver wrapper and devouring the whole fluff in one bite. “I didn’t,” Sophie admitted. “If I had, I wouldn’t have given you any of the butter toffee ones.” “Those look amazing too,” he said, then frowned at his present. “Aren’t you going to open it?” “Shouldn’t I wait until we’re with the others?” “Nah. It’ll be better if it’s just the two of us.” Something about the way he said it made her heart switch to flutter mode, even though she knew Fitz didn’t think of her that way. Her mind raced through a dozen theories as she carefully tore the shimmering paper. But she still wasn’t prepared to find . . . “Rings?” “They go on your thumbs,” Fitz explained. “It’s a Cognate thing.” She wasn’t sure what thumb jewelry had to do with their rare telepathic connection. But she noticed Fitz was wearing an identical set. Each ring had initials stamped into the verdigris metal. SEF on the right—Sophie Elizabeth Foster—and FAV on the left. “Fitzroy Avery Vacker.” “Your full name is Fitzroy?” she asked. “Yeah. No idea what my parents were thinking with that one. But watch this. Try opening your thoughts to mine, and then do this.” He held his hands palm-out, waiting for her to do the same. As soon as she did, the rings turned warm against her skin and snapped their hands together like magnets. “They’re made from ruminel,” Fitz said, “which reacts to mental

He reached for her other hand. “Speaking of helping—hear me out on this, okay? I know you and Keefe have a plan—and I’m not saying it’s a bad one. But I really think I should be the one to go with you when you confront Bronte.” Ro sniffed. “Of course you do.” “Um, reading his thoughts will be way clearer than trying to translate his emotions,” Fitz argued, “and this is the kind of thing we need to be absolutely certain about.” “It is,” Sophie agreed. “But… I’ve been in Bronte’s head. It’s really not a great place for a Telepath.” “But you went in alone,” Fitz reminded her. “Now we’d be taking him on together.” Ro clapped her hands, jumping up and down. “Oh! Oh! This is the part where he’s going to remind you that you’re Cognates!” “Well, we are!” Fitz snapped back, looking like he’d had about all he could stand of Ro’s interruptions. Sophie was equally done with them.

Foster, you don’t have to take care of me.” “Maybe I just like you,” she said—then realized how that sounded. “I’m just… worried about you.” Keefe stepped closer. “I know. It’s one of the things I like about you.” Her stomach filled with fluttering things, which flitted around even more when she noticed how close they were now standing. The toes of their boots were almost touching, and his breath felt warm on her cheeks. Someone cleared their throat, reminding them they weren’t alone. When Sophie turned, she found Grady glaring and Edaline smiling that goofy smile again. She couldn’t decide which was worse. “We’re heading home—” Grady started. “But you don’t have to leave with us,” Edaline finished. “Just make sure you let us know where you are if you decide to go somewhere.” Grady started to say something else, but Edaline created a path of light and whisked him away.

HIYA, FITZY,” KEEFE SAID, LOOKING and sounding infinitely calmer than Sophie was feeling as he gave Fitz a quick chin nod and stood up to greet him—though he also shot Ro a look that said, Your punishment for not warning us will be LEGENDARY. “Didn’t know you’d be stopping by.” Fitz snorted. “Clearly.” Keefe smirked. “Wow, someone’s grumpy. Did Biana kick your butt in bramble again? He haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaates to lose,” he stage-whispered to Sophie. “But I guess you probably already know that about your boyfriend.” Sophie had a feeling he’d used the last word intentionally—and she chose to not correct him for the same reason, even though the label felt especially tenuous at the moment. “Or is it because Biana’s making you call her ‘Lady Biana’ now?” Keefe asked. “Your girlfriend’s totally been doing the same thing, in case you were wondering. Isn’t that right, Lady Fos-Boss?” Sophie scowled.

The Black Swan convinced Sophie that they could “fix” her. So she flew across the ocean with Silveny (and Keefe) to have her abilities reset. And after that nightmare, a bunch of cloaked enemies attacked. SYMPTOMS/INJURIES: WHERE DO I EVEN START? THE BLACK SWAN GAVE HER AN ENTIRE OUNCE OF LIMBIUM AND THEN INJECTED HER WITH SOME MYSTERIOUS REMEDY SO SHE WOULDN’T DIE—AND THEN THE SAME CREEPS WHO KIDNAPPED HER NEARLY KILLED HER AGAIN!!! TREATMENT: According to this Mr. Forkle person (who I have quite a few things I’d love to say to), I was only allowed to clean Sophie’s wounds for the next twenty-four hours—no giving her elixirs or serums because they could mess with her “reset.” NOT EVEN ANY PAINKILLERS. UPDATE: As soon as that twenty-four hours was up, I gave her all the medicine she could safely handle. NOTES: There’s a bruise on Sophie’s hand from where the Black Swan injected their “remedy.” Pretty sure it’s going to scar. But… I think the reset did fix the issues she’s been dealing with. It also appears she can teleport. (Don’t know why I’m even surprised.)

I’d just settled into bed when Sophie hailed me. Somehow she hurt herself bottling starlight for her Universe assignment. (Always an adventure with this girl!) SYMPTOMS/INJURIES: Major burns with blackish, purplish blisters. Looked super painful. Glad she set aside her fears and hailed me. TREATMENT: I started with my strongest burn salve mixed with painkiller and a Youth soak. But her skin still looked raw, so I ran home for something a little more extreme. (I figured Sophie wouldn’t want to know that her hands were covered in yeti pee, so I left out that detail—but I did warn her to wash her hands thoroughly.) NOTES: I also wrapped up the starlight to make sure she couldn’t hurt herself again. Weird thing was, it felt cold—not hot. And I’ve never seen light like that before—or heard of UPDATE: Sophie stopped by early (I think she didn’t want her friends to see her in the Healing Center again), and her hands looked perfect! But I still gave her one more elixir, just to be safe. ADDITIONAL NOTES: In the category of Proof That Things Keep Getting Weirder Around Here, a couple of Councillors showed up and asked me a billion questions—and made me black out the star’s name from this record. Pretty sure I know what that means.…

I’ll forgive you for ignoring us if you tell me one thing.” She grinned when Sophie nodded. “So all that one-on-one time with Fitz in the Healing Center—anything happen?” Sophie’s face burned, and she looked away, mumbling the only answer she could truthfully give. “We’re friends.” “Still in denial—got it,” Marella said. “You guys seriously need to make it official. It’s getting kind of ridiculous. Plus, you’re not the only one who’d be happy to snatch that up, you know? So unless there’s someone else . . .” Sophie turned to head down the stairs, done with this conversation. Marella blocked her. “Just promise me you’re not going to get all ‘I don’t know who I love’ and spend months angsting about it, ’kay? ’Cause I might have to smack you.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “We’d better get down there before Bo gives Linh the same speech he gave me the first time I met him. I don’t think Tam would take it as well as I did.” “There’s a Bo and a Ro?” Marella clarified. “Yep—and if you’re looking for gossip, you should focus on them. They have some sort of weird history, but neither of them will tell us what it is. Keefe even made a bet with Ro about it—that’s why he’s not here. If he comes to Havenfield before I find out the story, Ro gets one unlimited dare.

That was one of the most striking things I noticed during my years living among them,' Mr. Forkle agreed. 'Each generation dumps their problems on the next because they simply do not have enough time to deal with them. I suspect that if they could see a bigger picture, they would not destroy themselves and their planet the same way.' Sophie nodded, remembering some of the thoughts she'd heard growing up. Death truly was humans' constant companion. Maybe if it wasn't, they'd care more about others and take the time to do things the right way. And yet, later that night, as she tossed and turned in bed nervous for what the first day at Exillium would bring, Sophie couldn't help wondering if the elves' indefinite lifespan hindered them just as much as the humans' fleeting lives, Would the Council--and even the Black Swan--be so willing to sit back and ignore problems if they couldn't rest so comfortably in the knowledge that they still had centuries and centuries ahead of them? The more she thought about it, the more she realized both sides had lost an important alternate perspective. And maybe that was what she'd been created for. A girl from both worlds, who'd seen the follies and triumphs of each side. And her job was to shake things up and do something new.

Tonight would’ve been . . . pretty rough if you hadn’t stopped by.” “I know,” he told her. “For me too.” “Awwwwwww, you guys are SO adorable,” Ro jumped in. “You want to talk about adorable,” Keefe snapped back. “I wrote another verse in The Ballad of Bo and Ro—and just think! Tomorrow, Foster finally gets to meet your long-lost love!” “Do not share that verse,” Ro warned, pretty much guaranteeing that Keefe would be chanting it to her for the rest of the night. But first she told Sophie, “Don’t tell him anything about me.” “Why not?” Sophie had to ask. “Because he doesn’t deserve to know.” Keefe leaned closer to Sophie, stage-whispering. “You realize it’s now your job to pester Bo for all the details Ro’s trying to hide from us.” Ro smirked. “Try it—Bo won’t tell you a thing.” “Wanna bet?” Keefe countered. “Bad idea,” Sophie told him. “You’ve won twice now—that means you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose. Especially since this bet relies on me again.” He grinned. “Exactly, Foster. You’re always the safe bet.” “Not this time,” Ro told him. “We doing this, then?” Keefe asked her. Ro folded her arms. “Fine. If I win, I get one guaranteed dare. I can tell you to do anything I want, and you have to do it.” Keefe raised one eyebrow. “Deal—but only if I get the same thing if I win.” Ro leaned into his face, flashing a deadly smile. “It’s on.” Sophie sighed, laying on the sarcasm nice and thick when she mumbled, “This can only end well.

You don’t want this butterblast, do you?” He took a huge bite of a round, golden pastry topped with giant sugar crystals. If it weren’t for her injuries, she would’ve leaped out of bed and wrestled it away from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you a bite. But first you need to go one solid hour without your stomach growling. So ignore me”—he took another giant bite of the butterblast—“and focus on Krakie. Or you can focus on Krakie’s new buddies.” He set three Prattles pins on her tray—a jaculus, a kelpie, and a sasquatch. “Meet Bitey, Scaley Butt, and The Stink—your new bandage buddies! We need to figure out the perfect place to put them. I think Scaley Butt should be near Krakie so it looks like they’re swimming together. And then Bitey could be close to The Stink so it looks like he’s trying to chomp him.” “You’re a very strange person, you know that?” she asked as he pinned the new creatures in place. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘awesome.’ I’m an awesome person—who stopped you from thinking about how hungry you are for, like, five minutes.” “And then reminded me,” Sophie noted with a stomach growl. “Oops. Well . . . okay, your new hour starts now!” It was a very long afternoon. But it was worth it when Keefe gave her the last bite of butterblast, which was chewy like a doughnut but tasted like pancakes hot off the griddle and was filled with some sort of thick, maple-y cream. It was quite possibly the most amazing thing she’d ever put in her mouth—and that was saying something, considering she lived in a world with mallowmelt and custard bursts and ripplefluffs and pudding puffs. “If you want another,” Keefe told her, “you’re going to have to let Ro carry you with me into the secret cafeteria.” “Not happening,” Elwin warned. Keefe smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.

Things I know about Project Moonlark I’m the moonlark—which means I get to have lots of people trying to kill me. Calla came up with the name for the project because of the way moonlarks treat their eggs. She also helped the Black Swan figure out my genetics, which are mostly based off alicorn DNA. That’s why I have brown eyes and can teleport. (And yeah, it’s hard not to feel like “the horse girl.”) They chose a lot of the abilities they gave me because they were hoping I’d be able to use them to heal broken minds (since the Black Swan knew some of their members might endure memory breaks—like poor Prentice). I grew up with humans, partly to make sure no one found me. But mostly so I’d understand humans differently from how other elves understand them. And I guess I do, but… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that information. It’s possible I may end up manifesting another special ability (or more than one—anything’s possible at this point). But I hope not. Five is seriously enough! My biological mother is Councillor Oralie, which means she lied to me every time she saw me for years (and signed me up for a genetic experiment and then totally abandoned me). I also can’t tell anyone who she is, because then she’d have to resign from the Council, and that would create so much chaos that it could give the Neverseen the opportunity to take control. So, lucky me—I get to be unmatchable! The Black Swan loves to tell me I have a choice in all of this, and I guess I do for certain things. But it’s not like I can change my genetics. Or everything I’ve gone through. Or the fact that everyone’s expecting me to be this big important THING, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to do it. Sometimes I wonder if the real reason the Black Swan won’t tell me what they’re planning is because they don’t actually have a PLAN. They just made their little moonlark and are expecting me to figure out the rest. Which, you know, would be pretty terrifying if I’m right. But at the same time… I kinda think it might be better—because if they do have a PLAN, then wouldn’t that mean they also knew exactly what the Neverseen were going to do and could’ve prevented it all from happening in the first place?

Things I know about Mr. Forkle His official name (for this identity, at least) is Mr. Errol L. Forkle, which he apparently chose because the initials spell out “elf,” and because the word “Forkle” can sometimes mean “disguise” in Norwegian. (I guess he used to spend a lot of time in Norway—no idea why.) The L stands for Loki, because he was kinda the source of some of the Loki myths—which is way too weird to think about. He claims he’s not my biological father (despite being listed that way on certain documents). Even if that’s true, he still helped create me. And he knows who my biological father is. And he refuses to tell me. He’s a super powerful Telepath. He loves to start sentences with “you kids.” He eats a lot of ruckleberries to disguise what he really looks like. He lies sometimes. Maybe all the time. Who knows? He was my annoying next-door neighbor in San Diego, always sitting in his yard rearranging his lawn gnomes (and apparently the gnomes were one of the ways he passed along messages to the Black Swan). He’s the one who triggered my abilities. And the one who stole my missing memories. And the one who planted the information in my brain. He also rescued me from the Neverseen after they kidnapped me. And probably a bunch of other stuff I don’t know about yet. He’s Magnate Leto. Also Sir Astin. I’m sure he has other identities too. I just haven’t figured out what they are yet. And… he secretly had an identical twin. Only one of them was registered (their parents didn’t want them to face the scorn of being a “multiple birth”), and they were sharing one life and switching places all the time. Sometimes I was talking to one brother, and sometimes I was talking to the other—or I was, until one of them died right in front of me in Lumenaria. I thought he was gone, but… then Granite brought us to Brumevale, and… there was the other Forkle. I still don’t really know how to process it. But I’m glad he’s still here, even if he’s a little more limited now that he can’t be two places at once. We planted a Wanderling for the Forkle-twin we lost near Trolltunga in Norway. The tree looks like it’s leaning a bit, waiting for its brother—but I’m selfishly hoping it grows alone for a really long time. Maybe forever.

THE GREAT GULON INCIDENT: [JUST GONNA LEAVE THIS ONE WITH: REDACTED] [NOT THAT I HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS!] THE VACKER CONNECTION: [UH, FITZY’S MY BEST FRIEND—NOT A “CONNECTION.” AND ALDEN AND DELLA ARE WAY NICER TO ME THAN MY OWN PARENTS ARE. BIANA’S SUPER AWESOME TOO. ALVAR… NOT SO MUCH. I PROBABLY SHOULD’VE SEEN THAT ONE COMING. BUT WHATEVER, MY POINT IS: I DIDN’T TRY TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE VACKERS—NO MATTER WHAT WEIRD STUFF WAS IN ONE OF MY ERASED MEMORIES. SO DON’T GO THINKING THERE’S MORE TO IT THAN THAT.] [AND HOW DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT MEMORY? THAT KINDA MAKES ME WANT TO RIP THIS REGISTRY PENDANT OFF MY NECK AND THROW IT FAR, FAR AWAY!] INSTANT RIVALRY: [YOU THINK BANGS BOY AND ME ARE “RIVALS”? HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT NOPE! I MEAN, YEAH, HE’S SUPER ANNOYING WITH ALL THE “LOOK AT ME, I’M A MOODY SHADE” NONSENSE—AND HIS HAIR IS TOTALLY RIDICULOUS. BUT THERE’S NO RIVALRY. JUST DON’T EXPECT US TO BE BESTIES, AND WE’LL BE GOOD.] UNWITTING ERRAND BOY: [OKAY, THAT SUBHEADING MAKES ME WANT TO PUNCH WHOEVER WROTE IT IN THE MOUTH. BUT… I GUESS IT’S ALSO KIND OF TRUE. MY MOM DID HAVE ME DO STUFF AND THEN ERASE MY MEMORIES SO I WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT. MOM OF THE YEAR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. TRY NOT TO BE JEALOUS.] [AND I’M WORKING ON GETTING THOSE MEMORIES BACK, BY THE WAY. I’VE BEEN FILLING JOURNALS WITH DRAWINGS AND EVERYTHING. IT’S JUST TAKING A WHILE BECAUSE I’VE BEEN A LITTLE BUSY ALMOST DYING AND STUFF.] TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE: [WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!] [BUT THE REST OF THE STUFF IN THIS SECTION IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GETTING REDACTED. SERIOUSLY—BOUNDARIES, PEOPLE! FOSTER’S AMAZING—AND OBVIOUSLY WORKING WITH ME MAKES HER EVEN MORE AMAZING. BUT YOU GUYS NEED TO STOP WITH ALL OF YOUR WEIRDO SPECULATING.] ONE PART OF A TRIANGLE: [OKAY, THAT’S IT. I’M DEEEEEEEEEEFINITELY DITCHING THIS PENDANT THING. WHY IS THE COUNCIL PAYING ATTENTION TO THIS STUFF???????????] [ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, BUT I’M GOING TO ADD ONE THING: FOSTER GETS TO DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS, OKAY? SHE CAN LIKE WHOEVER SHE WANTS. OR BE CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT SHE’S FEELING. SHE CAN EVEN BE OBLIVIOUS—IT’S HER LIFE. HER CHOICE. AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO STAY OUT OF IT.] [EVEN ME.] [ESPECIALLY ME. I WOULD NEVER WANT TO…] [NEVER MIND. MY POINT IS, LET THE POOR GIRL FIGURE THIS OUT ON HER OWN. AND SERIOUSLY, STAY OUT OF OUR LIVES!!!!]