Keeper Of The Lost Cities Legacy Quotes

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.

There’s never a good time to almost die.

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.

Easy. You’ll say, ‘Wow, that’s the hottest Wanderling I’ve ever seen! Who knew a tree could have awesome hair?’ And then you’ll all sit under my stunning leaves and write poems about my general amazingness.

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!

How could I lose that much time?” “It’s called almost dying,” Edaline said gently. “Actually, it’s called ‘Fostering’ now,” Keefe corrected

Having a family crest meant a lot to a girl who'd been adopted.

She was officially starting to hate everybody. And herself. And the world.

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.

Maybe this was what growing up meant--tackling the huge challenges, whether you were ready for them or not. And trusting that you'd figure out a way to get through it.

Sophie ignored the insult—but might’ve allowed herself half a smile when Ro coughed something that sounded like “awfully smug for a tiny hairless dude” from wherever the ogre princess had tucked herself away in the shadows.

Is it, now?” Ro patted the chaise next to her. “Well then, why don’t you sit right here and tell Auntie Ro all about it?” “Auntie Ro?” Sophie, Sandor, and Keefe all asked in unison. Ro shrugged. “What? I can be nurturing when I want to be.” That would’ve been a lot easier to believe if she weren’t using a dagger to clean beneath her claws.

Foster?” he asked, jolting upright—which only drew more attention to the fact that he was currently shirtless. He crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing with a hint of pink when his ice blue eyes focused on her. “I… um… what are you doing here?” Ro snickered from the corner, where she lounged on a cushioned chaise, painting her claws the same purple she must have recently dyed the ends of her choppy pink pigtails. “Smooth, Lord Hunkyhair. Smooooooooooooooooooth

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?

Then again, she also wasn’t sure how having Councillors who were a Vociferator, a Conjurer, and an Empath was going to do her group a whole lot of good—and she really wished she could think of an unsuspicious way to trade Councillor Lyingcurls to the other group.

She leaned over, pulling Keefe into the tightest hug possible, and whispered, “Thank you.

Mr. Happy Shadow Thoughts.

Bronte! The-Dude-Who’s-Tried-to-Have-You-Exiled-Almost-as-Many-Times-as-Dame-Alina-Has-Tried-to-Have-Me-Expelled,

There's never a good time to almost die.

SO, QUESTION,” DEX SAID, BREAKING the uncomfortable silence. “Can we get a cooler name? Because ‘Team Prodigious’ is an epic fail.

Aw, come on, Gigantor!” Keefe whined. “We’re talking about elf-shaped cookies! I need this in my life!” “So do I!” Ro added. “Do you have any idea how much fun I would have smashing them?

The question is”—his eyes locked with hers—“when are you taking me to go get some of these magical E.L. Fudge thingies? Because they’re officially a need, Foster. I neeeeeeeeeeeed tiny elf-shaped cookies in my life. I can’t believe you’ve never brought me any before! In fact, I kinda feel like that’s a betrayal of our friendship!” The question was so unexpected that Sophie couldn’t stop the loud snort-laugh from bursting out, which of course was followed by a fit of embarrassed giggles. “You’re not laughing your way out of this one either, Miss F!” Keefe warned her. “I expect another cookie delivery ASAP

Dude, you have to stop calling it that,” Dex told him. “How about Team T. Rex?” “Or Team Alicorn?” Biana added. “If we go that route, why don’t we just call ourselves the Order of the Phoenix?” Sophie couldn’t resist suggesting—but of course no one appreciated her reference. “Never mind.

Back to nag me already? You seriously need to get yourself a hobby. I hear spelunking’s fun. Oooh, or you could try swimming with the krakens! I doubt they’d eat you—but maybe we’ll get lucky!

I’d still be thinking I was being chased by kelpies and unicorns. There might’ve been a talking murcat, too, and maybe a flock of boobries? I don’t know—it was super weird and really overwhelming.

Okay. What if we went with something cool and space-y, like… Team Nebula?” “You realize that would technically make us Team Swirling-Cloud-of-Gas, right?” Biana asked, earning a choked laugh from Grady.

Keefe gave her another reassuring shoulder pat—but when she flung the pillow aside and buried her face in her hands, she heard him growl something that sounded like “screw it.” Then his arms wrapped around her and she sank into the hug, not realizing she was crying until she felt her tears soak into his tunic.

Eh, let’s drink this stuff that’ll almost kill us and see what happens to our baby!’ And then it didn’t work, so she was like… ‘I know! Let’s make a Shade do some stupid trick when my son’s already way past manifesting age and see if that fixes it!’ And then her Shade died, so she was like, ‘No worries, I’ll kidnap this surly guy with ugly bangs and make him take over!

It's a tremendous responsibility. One that every young generation must learn to carry. Adults may have wisdom and experience. But our youth are bold and brave and willing to fight for what they believe in with a formidable kind of energy.

Maybe you did important stuff,” Dex told her. “But I heard Stina put out some blankets or something? Good job! No one else could’ve done that.

That’s between us and Team Prodigious,” Councillor Emery said, glancing at Dex and reluctantly adding, “or Team Whatever-They-Decide-to-Call-Themselves.

Smooth, Lord Hunkyhair. Smooooooooooooooooooth.

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.

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 changed Iggy’s color?” she asked, heading over to his cage, where, sure enough, the tiny imp had yet another new look. His neatly trimmed, gold, sparkly fur was now a much poofier ice blue with tiny crimps. “Huh, I figured he’d be pink and purple,” Sophie admitted, pointing to Ro’s colorful pigtails. Ro tossed her head, swishing her hair in the process. “Uh, no, I’m not sharing my fabulous style with anyone—much less a creature who spent the last hour eating his own toenails.

[I’M NOT YOUR LEGACY-BOY] Sencen NOTE: Despite numerous attempts—and lots of enhancements to registry security—the information in this file remains hopelessly altered, presumably by Keefe Sencen, who was likely given access by Dex Dizznee. Until we can figure out how they did it, we can’t seem to fix it.

Don’t feel bad, Fitzy—you’re not the only one who didn’t make the cut,” Keefe told him. “In fact, I’m kinda thinking you, me, and Linh should start our own team—Team We’re-Having-More-Fun-Than-You-Are! Instead of crowns, we can wear tunics that say ‘You Wish You Were This Hot.’ And all of our mascots will be gulons. You with me?

Sandor had been complaining vigorously about the restrictions—right up until he saw the mire of steaming mud they all had to sink through. Then he’d become much more cooperative.

We will,” Grady agreed. “Though I gotta say, I hear staying single can be amazing.” He yanked his hand free before Edaline could pinch him again.

Great. So… basically, you’re asking me to trust you with my life—again—while also admitting that you don’t actually know what you’re doing,” Sophie had to point out. “Awesome.

Ro peeked over Keefe’s shoulder. “Wow. Leave it to Mommy Dearest to make Lord Jerkypants seem like the good parent.

Said the guy who still won’t tell me who my biological parents are,” Sophie felt the need to point out. “Ohhhhhh, she has you there!” Livvy added.

You changed Iggy’s color?” she asked, heading over to his cage, where, sure enough, the tiny imp had yet another new look. His neatly trimmed, gold, sparkly fur was now a much poofier ice blue with tiny crimps. “Huh, I figured he’d be pink and purple,” Sophie admitted, pointing to Ro’s colorful pigtails. Ro tossed her head, swishing her hair in the process. “Uh, no, I’m not sharing my fabulous style with anyone—much less a creature who spent the last hour eating his own toenails. But I thought it was only right to save your imp from being sparkle-fied—and I was going to be nice and turn him your favorite color. But apparently your favorite color is teal—and yeah, yeah, we all know why. But, um, do you realize how many of the nastiest little microbes are in that color?" She shuddered. "I couldn't do that to you—or the little dude. So I went with a nice ice blue. The kind of color you can't help but love. Classic. Reliable—

She tried to distract herself by staring into Bullhorn’s beady purple eyes, silently begging him not to freak everyone out as much as he had the last time. “I’m going to be fine,” she whispered to him. Bullhorn snorted.

Hmm, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should drag you off to a cave, then. Oh! Or to my dad’s palace! No one’s breached the security there in centuries.” “Sounds fun,” Keefe retorted. “I can teach King Daddy The Ballad of Bo and Ro!

Are Dex, Biana, Stina, and Wylie getting makeovers too?” Sophie asked, hoping Dex would show up with his hair dyed black and styled all shaggy—because Emo Dex would be hilarious—and that Stina would end up with giant hair-sprayed bangs.

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.

Better?” Sophie asked Bronte as Dex received a thorough Stina-dunking and Biana scrambled over and tackled her. “Not quite what I’d imagined,” Bronte noted, dodging several splats of flying mud. “But I suppose the method was still effective.

Sandor and Bo both snorted “allowed” under their breath. Mr. Forkle smiled. “Oh, I assure you—if I didn’t want you in my office, I could cast you out before you could even draw your weapons. It’s my favorite security feature that Tinker designed.

No offense to the Black Swan. The name they chose for you is not without its significance. But we think it’s high time for people to see you as more than an experiment. More than a survivor. More than a girl left to fend for herself in a world where she didn’t truly belong. You’re a leader now, Miss Foster. Not a defenseless little bird. And you’re part of a team, not struggling alone. So we wanted you to show our world—and your enemies—that you rule your pack, and have the claws and teeth to take anyone on.

Wait,” Sophie had to interrupt. “Aren’t you always saying that abilities can’t be switched off once they’ve been triggered?” “For ordinary elves, yes,” Mr. Forkle agreed. Sophie groaned, knowing this was going to lead to another “let me explain how very weird you are” speech.

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.

Remember Dad’s blue car? The one that was in the shop so much, he called it his Lemonmobile? That’s… me. Everyone loves to tease me about how often I end up in the Healing Center—and some of that is the Neverseen’s doing. But I swear the rest comes from the fact that I’m basically defective.

And then there was Biana—proof that some people were born for moments like these. Now that she had a circlet, Sophie already couldn’t imagine Biana without it. And the look in Biana’s eyes seemed to say, I’ve just made my own Vacker legacy, and I can’t wait to show you what I’m going to do with it.

It’s like an Imparter saying, ‘Hey, I’m sick of you telling me who to hail all the time—I’m not going to do it anymore until you tell me why you made me a square!’ ” “Uh, but you’re not an Imparter, Foster—though I appreciate the little voice you just did there to really sell the character,” Keefe teased.

The mud completes the ensemble,” Grady teased, winking at her from near the center of the swampy pool, where he stood shoulder-deep, waiting for everyone to catch up to him. “Or maybe I’ll lose the stupid circlet when I get sucked under,” Sophie muttered under her breath. That might make the slimy experience worth it.

Adults may have wisdom and experience. But our youth are bold and brave and willing to fight for what they believe in with a formidable kind of energy.

She wished she could’ve come up with a stronger way to wrap up her response, but...hope was really all they ever had. And Sophie refused to treat it like it wasn’t enough.

Though I gotta say, I hear staying single can be amazing.” He yanked his hand free before Edaline could pinch him again.

*pauses while the entire Keeper fandom raises their hands*

Why is it so hard to remember what really matters?” she asked quietly, staring up at the stars. “Because it all matters,

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!

Does that mean you’re not going to try to talk me out of this?” “We can if it’ll work,” Grady offered, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Edaline.

So… we trust your judgment.” “Even if we’re not happy about it,” Grady added under his breath—and Sandor, Dex, Biana, and Wylie snorted their agreement.

That’s our girl,” Keefe said quietly as Sophie snatched the green pill and gulped it down before she could change her mind. “Knew she was going to Foster it.

Grady sighed and reached for Sophie’s hand—which didn’t feel that strange until Bronte grabbed her other hand.

I’m pretty sure all you’d have to do is show them that trick you guys do with the stomping-and-opening-up-huge-cracks-in-the-ground thing,

Pretty sure he’s pouting,” Ro told her. “I’m not pouting,” Keefe argued—in a tone that definitely sounded pouty.

Fitz gave me this big speech about how there’s no way he and I wouldn’t be on each other’s lists.” Ro snorted. “Wow. Is that what you elves call romance? ‘Don’t worry, my love, a bunch of snooty intellectuals are totally going to put your name on a piece of paper and give us permission to date each other’? Ugh, no wonder you haven’t felt ready for any smooching.

Come on, Captain Sulky,” Ro said, elbowing him harder. “There’s really nothing you want to say?” “Nope.” He scooted away before Ro could elbow him again, earning himself an epic ogre eye roll.

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.

It’s a huge relief.” In fact, her head felt lighter than it had in days. Minus twenty pounds of worry. “Good,” Bronte told her, his familiar scowl returning. “Because this is the end of this conversation.

Should I assume this means you haven’t followed up with young Miss Vacker since she spoke with me?” Sophie managed a nod. Bronte shook his head. “Wonderful, so I’m going to have to endure this conversation a second time.

Sophie nodded, knowing it probably didn’t help instill Bronte with a lot of confidence when she gathered up her blankets, pillows, and Ella and stumbled toward the house with the giant bundle, tripping over her feet several times.

in their current conversation, which had started out as a long, brutal accounting of everything that had happened in Loamnore, followed by lots of panicked speculation, and had now somehow dissolved into another round of “How do we protect Sophie?

The threat might’ve sounded more ominous if she hadn’t lost her balance on her next step—and she would’ve face-planted into the mud if Wylie hadn’t lunged to grab her shoulders. The poor guy ended up sunken all the way to his chest as a reward for his heroics.

Sophie shrugged. “There’s never a good time to almost die.” “Okay, someone needs to get that embroidered on a tunic for our Mysterious Lady F immediately!” Keefe called out behind her, and when Sophie spun around, she found him striding up the path along with Ro.

So... I guess that leaves us nowhere then. And for one second, she held her breath, hoping she was wrong. But Fitz sighed and said, "I think it does." And his eyes were heartbreakingly sad as he held his home crystal up to the moonlight and slowly glittered away.

You have two choices,” Sophie decided, placing her hands on her hips—even though most of her torso was under the mud, so the effect was somewhat muted. “You can wade in now on your own. Or I can have Sandor pick you up and toss you in.” “Everyone votes for option B, right?” Dex asked. The chorus of “yes” was definitely unanimous. “I hate all of you,” Stina informed them as Sandor stalked toward her with a smile that looked downright gleeful. “Fine. I’ll do it on my own—back off!” She moved to the edge of the mud again. And then she just stood there. “Ten seconds,” Sophie warned. “Then it’s Sandor dunk time! Ten… nine… eight…” Biana, Dex, and Wylie joined in the countdown as Stina made a noise that was part growl, part moaning whale. “Four… three…” Stina muttered a string of words that would’ve made Ro proud. Then she shuffled into the mud, trying to move slowly and carefully. But two steps in, she lost her footing and… SPLASH! “For the record,” Dex said as Stina burst back to the surface looking like a sludge beast and screaming like a banshee, “this might be the greatest moment of my life.

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.

That does not mean there’s a way for an elf to pass from one to another,” Nubiti insisted. Stina rolled her eyes. “Well, there should be. Seriously, this is the most ridiculous arrangement I’ve ever heard of!” “Hey, we make everyone slide down a giant whirlpool to get to Atlantis,” Biana reminded her, sounding surprisingly chipper for a girl who usually obsessed about her hair and makeup and was currently thigh-deep in poop-colored muck. “Fitz still talks about how freaked out Sophie was the first time she had to try it. He said he was about three seconds away from having to push her over the edge because she was frozen in place.

Shouldn’t you go with someone who isn’t a walking interspeciesial disaster?” “Sophie is far from a disaster,” Grady argued, placing a reassuring hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Yeah, the only disaster I see here is you,” Dex told Stina. “And let me guess. You think you’d be a better leader?” Stina laughed. “You think I want that kind of responsibility? Uh, yeah, hard pass. Wylie’s the obvious choice. He’s older, with more training and experience, and—” “Not necessarily,” Wylie interrupted. “Sophie may be younger, but she’s lived through more than all of us combined.” “Since when is ‘not dying’ a qualification for leadership?” Stina countered.

He tapped another rhythm against the table, and the pins shifted, making new landmarks emerge among all the others: Gildingham, the goblins’ golden capital, which seemed to be tucked among the Andes Mountains—and probably inspired the human myths of El Dorado. Ravagog, the ogre stronghold on the Eventide River, which was apparently hidden in the lushest part of central Asia. Loamnore, a city Sophie assumed was the dwarven capital, since the enormous metropolis was under the Gobi desert rather than above it. And Marintrylla, an island near New Zealand that was probably the trollish capital and seemed to be an intricate network of caves and bridges.

I’ll always be their moonlark.” “And what exactly does that mean?” he asked. “Honestly? I have no idea,” Sophie admitted, holding her breath through the silence that followed the confession. And she cringed at the sharp sound King Enki finally made—until she realized it was a single barked laugh. “I think I could enjoy your company, Lady Foster,

What about this, then?” The metal surface rippled at his touch, stretching and splitting into a million thin wires that made it look like a giant version of one of those pin art toys Sophie used to play with as a kid. He tapped his fingers in a quick rhythm, and the pins shifted and sank, forming highs and lows and smooth, flat stretches. Sophie couldn’t figure out what she was seeing until he tapped a few additional beats and tiny pricks of light flared at the ends of each wire, bathing the scene in vibrant colors and marking everything with glowing labels. “It’s a map,” she murmured, making a slow circle around the table. And not just any map. A 3-D map of the Lost Cities. She’d never seen her world like that before, with everything spread out across the planet in relation to everything else. Eternalia, the elvin capital that had likely inspired the human myths of Shangri-la, was much closer to the Sanctuary than she’d realized, nestled into one of the valleys of the Himalayas—while the special animal preserve was hidden inside the hollowed-out mountains. Atlantis was deep under the Mediterranean Sea, just like the human legends described, and it looked like Mysterium was somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. The Gateway to Exile was in the middle of the Sahara desert—though the prison itself was buried in the center of the earth. And Lumenaria… “Wait. Is Lumenaria one of the Channel Islands?” she asked, trying to compare what she was seeing against the maps she’d memorized in her human geography classes. “Yes and no. It’s technically part of the same archipelago. But we’ve kept that particular island hidden, so humans have no idea it exists—well, beyond the convoluted stories we’ve occasionally leaked to cause confusion.

And you can ease up on the worry there, Pretty Boy. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to your sweet girl.” “Uh, you’re still going to give her something she’s deathly allergic to, right?” Fitz asked. Livvy’s smile faded. “Okay, I guess what I should say is that I’m only going to let some temporary bad stuff happen to your sweet girl—and then I’m going to fix it all and make her a thousand times better. So you don’t have to worry, even though I get that you’re all going to. And while we’re being honest here, I’ll tell you what I just told the worrying-adult brigade inside: Moments of this definitely aren’t going to be pretty. So if you don’t want to see that, you might want to skedaddle.

Sophie held extra still, wondering if there was any way to trick her mind into playing possum for her. Lapsing into a vegetative state for a few hours seemed like the only viable option at that point. Until another voice said, “Maybe we should let her rest a little longer,” and Sophie’s eyes popped open—as if her brain had decided, You can ignore the grumpy Councillor, but not the nice one.

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

[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!!!!]

Instead, he turned to Biana and said, “Did I hear something about an exploding chandelier—because that’s a story I need to hear.” “Uh, yeah!” Ro added. Biana gave a brief retelling, and Keefe smirked at Sophie. “That sounds like our Lovely Lady F—can’t take her anywhere without her trying to blow something up.” “Uh, excuse me, the explosion was Wylie’s doing, not mine,” Sophie argued. “And Biana was the one who suggested we search the Grand Hall.

The thought of kissing Fitz in front of Keefe was more than just awkward. It felt… wrong, somehow. “I am staying out of it,” Ro insisted. “It’s not like I’m dragging them to separate corners—though we all know I could. I just figured I should make sure that our sweet, innocent little Blondie noticed that her teal-eyed wonder boy left out that crucial detail, since I know it’s kinda hard to think when a cute boy is leaning in with his eyes all heavy-lidded and his lips all puckery. And I thought she might want a little further clarification before she got lost in all the ‘YIPPEE! HE’S KISSING ME’—but what do I know?” Fitz’s glare could’ve withered forests. “And I thought the fact that I was about to kiss her made it pretty clear how I feel.” “Does it, though?” Ro asked, tapping her chin with a painted claw. “I mean, I guess it could. Or it could mean you’re in the mood for some lip-on-lip action—and hey, no one’s judging you. Smooching rocks!

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.

All elves were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but there was something particularly handsome about Keefe Sencen—and the boy was well aware of it. Though he seemed a little off his game at the moment. His smug smirk was noticeably absent as he scrounged around his blankets, searching for something. “Here,” Ro said, tossing Keefe a wrinkled black tunic from the floor. “Bet you’re wishing it didn’t smell so much like sweaty boy in here, huh?” “It’s fine,” Sophie promised, even if the room could definitely use some airing out. A good cleaning would work wonders too. Everywhere she looked were piles of crumpled clothes and scattered shoes and stacks of papers and plates of half-eaten food. And all the thick curtains were drawn tight, leaving the space dim and stuffy. The room was clearly designed to be beautiful, with marble floors broken up by rugs woven to look like pristine sand, and seafoam walls inlaid with starfish and anemone shells. But under Keefe’s care, it was a disaster zone. Even the furniture had a strange randomness to the arrangement that made Sophie wonder if he’d moved it all just to bug his dad.

SOOOOOOOO… THESE ARE DISAPPOINTING.” Keefe took a second bite from a round Digestive biscuit and crinkled his nose. “Are they supposed to suck up all the spit in your mouth and turn it into a paste? Is that, like, something humans find delicious?” “Maybe you’re supposed to dunk them in milk?” Sophie suggested, trying not to spray crumbs as she struggled to swallow the bite she’d taken. They really did win the prize for Driest. Cookies. Ever. “Actually, I think you’re supposed to eat them with tea.” “You think?” Keefe asked, shaking his head and stuffing the rest of the Digestive into his mouth. “You’re failing me with your human knowledge, Foster.” “For the thousandth time, I grew up in the U.S., not the U.K.!” she reminded him. “We had Chips Ahoy! and Oreos and E.L. Fudges!” “Hm. Those do sound more fun than a Digestive,” Keefe conceded. “I’m sure you’d especially enjoy the E.L. Fudges,” Sophie told him. “They’re shaped like tiny elves.” Keefe dropped the package of Jaffa Cakes he’d been in the process of opening and scanned the beach in front of them. “Okay, where’s the nearest cliff? You need to teleport me somewhere to get some of those immediately.

Her knock was wimpier than she meant it to be—so wimpy that there was a second where she wasn’t sure if Keefe had actually heard her. But then he called out, “Back to nag me already? You seriously need to get yourself a hobby. I hear spelunking’s fun. Oooh, or you could try swimming with the krakens! I doubt they’d eat you—but maybe we’ll get lucky!” Which wasn’t exactly a “come in.” But Sophie still grabbed the silver handle and turned it—realizing only as she was yanking the door open that she should’ve made sure Keefe was dressed before she barged in. Thankfully, he was. Mostly… He lay sprawled across a huge bed that rested on a pedestal made of lacy bleached coral, wearing fuzzy blue pajama bottoms covered in tiny black gremlins, with his head propped against a familiar green gulon stuffed animal. “Foster?” he asked, jolting upright—which only drew more attention to the fact that he was currently shirtless. He crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing with a hint of pink when his ice blue eyes focused on her. “I… um… what are you doing here?” Ro snickered from the corner, where she lounged on a cushioned chaise, painting her claws the same purple she must have recently dyed the ends of her choppy pink pigtails. “Smooth, Lord Hunkyhair. Smooooooooooooooooooth

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!

Why does almost dying have to be the worst?” “Pretty sure the answer’s in the name,” Biana said gently. “So let’s rename it!” Keefe suggested, making his way over to Sophie and draping his arm across her shoulders. “From now on, any time there’s a disaster, we’ll say, ‘Wow, we almost Fostered it!’ ” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” Keefe insisted. “We’ll make it your big claim to fame!” “So, when you challenged King Dimitar to a sparring match and he sliced a huge gash under your ribs…,” Sophie challenged. “I totally Fostered it!” Keefe finished without missing a beat. “And when you projectile vomit all over the Councillors today, you’ll be Fostering it hardcore—” “And some of us are super looking forward to that, by the way!” Ro cut in. “I’m just wishing I’d thought to bring snacks.

Just keep in mind,” Dex warned the Council, “that if this goes anything like the time I accidentally gave her limbium, there’s going to be a lot of Sophie-vomit. So if that’s going to trigger a hurlfest for you guys, this could get really messy really fast.” “Actually, I think I have an elixir that will help with that,” Elwin told him. “I’ll grab some when I go back for Bullhorn.” “You’re bringing your banshee here?” Grady asked. Elwin nodded. “The last time I worked on Sophie’s allergy, he was the only way I knew if something was or wasn’t helping.” Right. Because banshees could tell when someone was either close to dying—or really, really, really close to dying. “Gotta say, it’s not sounding like a whole lot of fun to be the moonlark right now,” Stina mumbled. “And it’s not feeling very awesome, either.

We need to have a serious discussion about your leadership skills, Miss Foster,” Bronte’s sharp voice barked the next morning, jolting Sophie out of the dazed, half-sleepy state she’d been lingering in since sunrise. “And perhaps also about your strange choices for sleeping location.” Some part of her brain had been telling her that she needed to get up and get ready for a big day of super-important stuff. The other part had decided that all of that stuff could wait a tiny bit longer. And then a tiny bit longer after that. And a little more after that. As if she’d found some sort of strange mental snooze button—which she was happy to keep hitting as long as it let her stay surrounded by baby alicorns and Calla’s soothing songs instead of having to face reality. And now her entire brain was telling her that the best solution to her current situation was to pull her blankets over her head and wait for Bronte to go away.