Honestly, he should’ve been relieved that he hadn’t woken up trapped in a Neverseen hideout with Mommy Dearest standing outside of his cell.

But… some tiny part of him had still been hoping his friends would pull off a victory—probably because then whatever his mom had done to him wouldn’t matter.

Now he was going to have to deal with it and deal with her at the same time. Which sounded… tiring.

He’d thought about asking Fitz what went wrong. But he wasn’t in the mood to hear about all of the mistakes they’d made.

Okay, fine—he wasn’t in the mood to hear about all of the mistakes he’d caused everybody to make, because his brilliant plan had turned out to be a little less-than-brilliant.

Apparently, he shared the Really-Bad-at-Scheming gene with his mom.

And yet somehow she always found a way to beat him.

He couldn’t figure out how she kept pulling that off.

Was it ruthlessness, like Vespera had droned on and on about in one of her Look—I’m-the-queen-of-all-things-evil! speeches?

Or was it a deeper kind of desperation?

Or pure, random luck?

Or was it something more insidious than all of that?

Could his mom have built some sort of… fundamental flaw into him during her creepy experiments? A way to make sure that her little Legacy Boy would be just strong enough to do her bidding but not strong enough to take her down?

The possibility felt like an angry T. rex tearing through his already aching brain, and he had to press his arms against his sides to fight the urge to reach up and smack himself.

No way did his mom deserve that kind of credit.

She wasn’t some gene-manipulating mastermind.

She was an evil, power-hungry, unstable murderer playing with things she didn’t understand—and whatever she’d tried to do to him in Loamnore wasn’t going to work.

It wasn’t.

He’d make sure of that.

Plus, he had the moonlark on his side—and Foster was even more amazing than the Black Swan had designed her to be.

She was an overachiever like that.

In fact, he’d bet anything that Sophie was the one who’d gotten him safely away from the dwarven capital while he was unconscious.

Though… maybe if she hadn’t had to do that, his mom wouldn’t have escaped.

There was no way to know, so it was probably better not to wonder about it.

He just had to keep fighting and remember that the defeats they’d suffered were… mostly a timing issue. After all, his mom had been refining her plan for years, and he was stuck playing catch-up—and he had holes in his memory slowing him down.

But he was getting smarter every day.

And stronger.

And angrier.

So.

Much.

Angrier.

And all of that rage was going to keep fueling him while he finished this game once and for all.

Until then, he needed to focus on the smaller victories. Like the fact that this time all of his friends had made it through safely. That’d been the first thing he’d asked after he’d woken up—if waking up was the right way to describe the process. He hadn’t necessarily been asleep. He’d been sort of… drifting through a strange mental space where past and present—dream and reality—all blurred together.

He probably should’ve clung to some of the images his mind had been replaying in case they turned out to be important. But hopefully they were tucked away in his photographic memory, because the only thing he could think about after his vision came into focus was “Where’s Sophie? Is she okay?”

According to Elwin, she’d been sitting by his side in the Healing Center for days and had only gone home a few hours earlier because Fitz had convinced her to get a little sleep.

Keefe might’ve gotten choked up hearing that—but he’d pretended to cough to make sure no one noticed.

Then he’d gone through a list with Fitz name by name, checking that all the other people he cared about had made it out of Loamnore without any injuries. And Fitz had assured him that everyone was good. Even Shady McSilverbangs was back living at Tiergan’s house again—not that Keefe necessarily counted Tam as a friend. But he was glad to hear that Tammy Boy hadn’t officially turned into an enemy, either—mostly because the guy could do some seriously scary stuff when he put his mind to it.

Now if only Keefe could get Elwin to stop with All the Pointless Tests Ever.

It’d also be awesome if Fitz would quit staring at him like he was expecting him to sprout wings and a tail and morph into a gorgodon.

Keefe could practically feel the worry rippling off both of them in prickly little waves.

Actually…

Nope.

He had to be imagining that.

The only emotions he could feel automatically were Sophie’s—well, and the alicorns’. And humans’. With everyone else, he had to try in order to take a reading. He also usually needed physical contact, unless Sophie was enhancing him. And most of the time he had to guess what people were feeling, since a lot of moods felt the same without context.

And thank goodness his empathy worked that way, because Foster’s feelings were more than enough for him to handle—not that he didn’t love catching glimpses of the real Miss F, instead of the brave face she tried to put on for everybody.

But being around Sophie could be intense. Particularly when she was worried about something.

It also wasn’t a whole lot of fun when her heart got all pitter-pattery—though that might be changing.

Foster hadn’t told him anything for certain, but he’d sure felt a whole lot of heartache when he’d asked what was going on between her and the Fitzster. She also hadn’t corrected him when he’d said he was sorry—which he shouldn’t be happy about.

He absolutely, one hundred percent, should not be glad that someone he cared about was experiencing any kind of emotional pain—two someones, actually.

But… if he was honest… he wasn’t necessarily sad.

He glanced at his best friend, knowing it definitely wasn’t the right time to grill him about troubles in Fitzphieland—and even if it was, that was the kind of conversation he should stay far, far away from for lots of practical, let’s-not-turn-this-into-a-huge-mess-of-drama reasons.

But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from blurting out, “I’m surprised Foster isn’t here by now. I figured you’d do that Team-Cognates-Forever! thing and telepathically tell her it’s time to come yell at me for breaking my promises to stay away from Loamnore.”

“Actually, I did,” Fitz said, fidgeting with the end of his tunic. “I’m sure she’ll be here any second.”

And WHAM!

A giant gut-punch of feelings hit Keefe out of nowhere.

Sadness.

Nervousness.

Regret.

Loneliness.

Plus, a hefty dash of anger.

And as much as Keefe didn’t want anything to be different after… everything… he had to admit that the emotions weren’t his.

He could feel them zinging through the air.

Coming straight from Fitz.

“Sooooooo, how’s the nausea?” Elwin asked, raising one of his eyebrows as he snapped his fingers and surrounded Keefe with a bubble of purple light. “Hmm, I guess I should also be asking how the headache’s going—and think very carefully about how you answer. Remember: I can see your cells right now. So there’s no use pretending that everything’s normal. I know you want that to be true—and believe me, I wish it were. But what happened to you isn’t something you can just pretend away. That’s why I need you to be honest with me, so I can figure out the best means to help you. We’re in this together, and I promise, I’m going to do everything in my power to get you through it. I just need you to cooperate.”