Fresh tears streaked down her face as she begged, “Please stop guessing, Fitz. Please. This is going to be awful enough. Just please. Please let it go. Please.”

“Okay,” he promised, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a hug. “I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thank you,” Sophie whispered, sinking into the hug.

And for that one quiet second, everything was good.

Or as good as it could be.

And then Fitz asked, “But… what about the match?”

And Sophie leaned back, meeting his eyes, trying to find the will to say the words he surely already knew were coming.

But after the day she’d had, she didn’t have anything left.

Fitz nodded slowly, his face shifting back into lines and shadows. “So… that’s the plan, then? You’re just going to keep this all a big secret and live with the consequences—and you didn’t think you should at least discuss that with me first?”

“Discuss it with you?” Sophie repeated.

“Um, yeah—you’re not the only one this affects!”

And there it was.

The truth they’d been dancing around, finally forcing them to face it.

“You… don’t want me to be unmatchable,” Sophie mumbled.

“Of course I don’t! No one wants that, Sophie—no matter what they’re telling you. And you don’t want it either—you know you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Sophie agreed. “But I don’t have a choice.”

“Really? Because it seems pretty simple to me. You’re fifty percent of the way there to fixing everything.”

The sound she made was somewhere between a sigh and a weary laugh. “No, I’m not, Fitz. How many times do I have to say this? I. Can’t. Tell. Anyone.”

“So… what you’re really saying is… protecting that secret is more important than your future?”

“Sort of?” Sophie said, wanting to feel angry but instead feeling very, very sad.

She wished she didn’t have to explain the next part, but she forced out the words. “I can still have a future, Fitz. It’ll be a little more complicated, but… what else is new?”

She knew she was mostly trying to convince herself in that moment.

But she really, really, really needed Fitz to agree with her.

Instead, he said, “I… don’t think you’ve thought this through. But of course you haven’t. It’s late. You’ve had a long day with lots of huge stuff. So… can we just agree to not make any decisions right now?”

“We?” Sophie repeated.

“Uh, yeah. Like I said—this affects both of us, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t we decide it together?”

He actually said the words quite sweetly.

Gently.

Maybe even a little tenderly.

But they were still all wrong.

“No, Fitz—it’s my life. I’m the one who makes this decision.”

Fitz straightened up. “Just like that.”

She nodded.

“And you’re not going to put any more thought into it,” he pressed. “You’ve just made up your mind, and that’s it—everything’s settled?”

Sophie nodded again. “If you understood why—”

“WELL, I DON’T!” Fitz interrupted. “Because you won’t tell me! And apparently I’m not even supposed to be guessing—and I’m just supposed to be super okay with this too! Like it isn’t going to also ruin everything for me.”

And that was it.

Right there.

That was the cold, hard reality they’d both been trying to pretend away.

There was something eerily calming about having it “out there.”

Like some giant toxic cloud had been lifted off of them, clearing Sophie’s head enough for her to say, “So… I guess that leaves us nowhere, doesn’t it?”

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.

FORTY-FIVE

SOPHIE?” EDALINE ASKED, SLOWLY sitting down beside her on the cold, damp grass. “What’s wrong?”

Sophie wanted so badly to assure her that everything was fine.

But she didn’t know how to be brave at the moment.

She’d sunk to her knees after Fitz had left and had been there ever since, watching the fluttering Panakes blossoms fall all around her, wondering how long she’d have to sit there until she was completely buried by flowers.

As far as life goals went, complete petal submersion seemed like her best option—and it was definitely better than admitting to herself that some small part of her had stayed, hoping that Fitz would come back.

She wouldn’t have needed some big, dramatic apology—though she wouldn’t have minded a little begging.

But she would’ve been good with a simple We’ve both had tough days—can we start over tomorrow?

Instead… they really were broken up—which felt so strange, since they’d barely been together.

She’d still been getting used to thinking of him as her boyfriend.

They hadn’t even kissed!

And now…

Now there would be so many ugly, painful, awkward, messy moments and conversations ahead.

She might even lose a few friends.

And she just couldn’t deal with any of it.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Edaline promised as she wrapped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “But I would love it if you’d be willing to answer one question for me, okay? Just so I have some idea of which direction to focus my worrying.”

Sophie’s stomach twisted at the last word, and she realized how knotted up her insides were. It felt like everything was one big tangle and she’d never unravel it all.

She didn’t want Edaline feeling the same.

So she forced herself to nod, and Edaline pulled her a little bit closer and whispered, “Did something happen with Fitz? Or Councillor Oralie?”

The correct answer was both.

And Sophie’s lips started to form the word, but…

She couldn’t give Edaline the truth.

And she wondered if maybe that was the real reason that Mr. Forkle hadn’t wanted her to look into her biological parents.

He’d known the burden that would come with it.

The role she’d have to play.

The lies she’d have to tell, over and over.

And she hated that in a strange way, her breakup was a good thing.

It meant she could tell Edaline, “Fitz,” and have a perfect excuse for the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

One ugly truth to cover everything she was hiding.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Edaline said, shifting to pull Sophie into a full hug.

And as Sophie sobbed against Edaline’s shoulder, some tiny piece of her crumpled heart smoothed itself out again.

Because as much as she hated The Liar Who Didn’t Deserve to Be Mentioned, she also knew—with absolute certainty—that she didn’t need her.