Sandor let out a squeaky growl.

But the joke mostly fell flat. And Sophie’s worry surged even stronger.

“I’m seriously okay, Foster,” Keefe promised. “It’s always this way when Empaths first manifest—ask Elwin.”

“Well, I’m not an Empath,” Elwin corrected. “But… abilities do tend to be overwhelming in the beginning. And it seems like Keefe’s empathy has been reset. I’m sure you understand better than any of us how intense that can be, right, Sophie?”

“Yeeesss,” she agreed, dragging out the word as she tugged softly on her eyelashes.

She really was the cutest worrier ever.

“I’m fine, Foster,” Keefe assured her, “and yes, Ro, I know I keep saying that. But I’m serious. In a couple of days, I’ll be totally back to normal.”

Sophie flicked an eyelash away. “But… Fitz said you’re a Polyglot now.…”

Fitz at least had the decency to look uncomfortable as he mumbled, “Well… I don’t know for sure if he is. But he mimicked—”

“No, I thought I mimicked,” Keefe corrected. “That doesn’t mean I was right.”

“You realize there’s a super-easy way to settle that, don’t you?” Ro asked before Fitz could argue. “Do the pretty boy’s snooty voice again!”

Keefe snorted. “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the worry storm kicked up again, thrashing against his senses so hard, it felt like a hurricane.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, struggling to focus on Sophie. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She sacrificed another eyelash before she told him, “Because… you understood Ro. And you replied back in her same language.”

Her same language?

He spun toward Ro. “You were speaking Ogreish?”

Ro nodded. “So were you. And your pronunciation was eerily perfect. Who knew you could growl like that?”

It was the perfect setup for a joke.

But Keefe couldn’t find anything funny to say.

He couldn’t find any words at all—except the ones he really didn’t want to admit.

He made himself say them anyway.

“So… I guess I’m a Polyglot, then.”

“Why is that bad?” Elwin asked as Keefe reached for his pillow and hugged it tight, wishing it was Mrs. Stinkbottom. “Your dad’s an Empath. Your mom’s a Polyglot. Now you have both of their abilities. That’s honestly the way the matchmakers wish it would work all the time!”

Keefe squeezed his pillow tighter. “Awesome, because my goal in life has always been to make the matchmakers happy. Besides, we all know I wasn’t a Polyglot yesterday—or the day before, or the day before that. And I wouldn’t be one now if my mom hadn’t attacked all of my friends, bound me to King Enki’s throne, and…”

He shook his head, not wanting to relive the rest.

But his brain still gave him a full playback—and thanks to his photographic memory he got to witness the terror in Sophie’s eyes as she watched the freaky shadows rush toward him, and the agony on Tam’s face, and his mom’s sickening smile.

He’d told himself not to look at her, but he’d stolen one quick glance, and…

She’d looked triumphant.

Like, Yay, torturing my son is the greatest thing I’ve ever done!

And now he was going to have to face her again someday and watch her celebrate how she’d gotten exactly what she wanted.

“Hey.”

Sophie’s voice sounded closer, and when Keefe followed the sound, she was standing only a few steps away.

His senses hadn’t overloaded when she moved—which should’ve been good news.

But he was too busy freaking out to care.

“Hey,” Sophie said again, closing the last of the space between them. “I know what you’re thinking—and not because I read your mind. I just… I get it, okay? I’ve been experimented on too. I know what it’s like to have unnatural abilities—how unsettling it is. And I’ve been lucky, since the Black Swan—”

“Aren’t psychotic murderers?” Keefe interrupted, twisting his pillow into a stranglehold.

“Well… yeah,” Sophie admitted. “That does make it a little easier. But I’ve also been lucky because they’ve been pretty good about reminding me of something I’m sure your mom is hoping you’ll forget.” She waited for him to look at her before she said, “You still have a choice, Keefe. Nothing your mom does will ever take that away. She can give you whatever abilities she wants, but she can’t make you use them. You’re not her puppet—you’re Keefe Sencen: the most stubborn person I know.”

Sandor snorted from the doorway. “Boy, is that the truth.”

“Tell me about it,” Ro agreed.

Keefe felt his lips twitch, like they wanted to smile.

“You should listen to your pretty little Blondie, Hunkyhair,” Ro told him. “I honestly don’t get what your mom is thinking. Like… she’s met you. She has to know there’s no way you’re ever going to do what she wants you to. So why give you more elf-y powers to use against her?”

“And why a Polyglot?” Fitz added. “It’s not exactly the most useful talent. Not that it’s bad or anything,” he added, glancing sheepishly at Sophie—which normally would’ve given Keefe an abundance of Fitzphie Fail jokes.

But he’d been wondering the same thing.

What did his mom think he was going to do for her now that he was a Polyglot?

Translate stuff?

Mimic voices?

She could already do all of that herself!

“Well… maybe this is proof that your mom’s plan isn’t very good,” Sophie suggested.

“Yeah, most of the Neverseen’s plans don’t make a whole lot of sense,” Fitz reminded him.

“And yet, they keep beating us,” Keefe muttered, tossing his pillow aside, “usually because we can’t figure out what they want until it’s too late. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand here we are again.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pity party you’re throwing for yourself,” Ro told him.

“Uh, if anyone’s heaping on any pity, it’s you guys.” Keefe fanned the air, which felt so thick and sour it made him want to vomit.

“I don’t think your senses are as good as you think they are,” Sophie said, offering him her hand, just like Elwin had earlier. “You’re not getting any pity from me. Go ahead and check.”

Keefe stared at her gloved fingers, very aware that holding her hand in front of the Fitzster was a terrible idea—even if it was just to take a reading.

But… he couldn’t leave her hanging there, could he?

And he was curious about what she was feeling.

So he reached up and…

There were no words.

Keefe had never stood directly under a waterfall before, but he was pretty sure he knew what it felt like now as every possible emotion crashed against his senses with the force of a million stampeding mastodons.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.