Fitz gritted his teeth and looked away, tearing a hand through his hair. “I just want to know what’s going on with my girlfriend. I didn’t realize that was a lot to ask.”

His eyes darted to Sophie, and there was such betrayal in his stare that it took her a second to realize he’d just used the g word.

It was the first time he’d ever called her that, and it should’ve made her all floaty and fluttery. But the hurt in his tone filled her whole body with something sour and slimy.

Keefe looked pretty miserable too as he slowly backed toward her bedroom door, giving the two of them as much space as possible.

Or maybe getting ready to flee.

She wouldn’t have blamed him.

This was why he’d made her swear she’d talk to Fitz before he agreed to start helping her. And even though she’d made that promise less than twenty-four hours earlier—and had lost most of that time to the Regent appointment process—that didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t held up her end of the bargain.

Plus, she was the one who’d chosen to hide everything from Fitz in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” she told both of them, glad her mouth seemed to be regaining the ability to form recognizable words. She even managed to hold Fitz’s gaze as she added, “I… should’ve told you sooner.”

“Then why didn’t you?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, scraping together the courage to give an honest answer. “Because… once I told you, then it’d be real. And I wasn’t ready to find out what would happen next. I’m still not, but…”

She forced herself to tell him everything. From the color of the gown she’d worn that day in Atlantis—teal, of course—to the names of her matchmakers—Brisa and Juji—to how close she’d come to vomiting when she saw the ugly red letters that would define her future if she couldn’t make them go away. And how she’d spent days hiding out, hoping Mr. Forkle would give her the information she needed to fix everything—but of course the Black Swan let her down. So now she was stuck going rogue with her own investigation, which Keefe was helping her with—but only because Ro had forced the information out of her. And even though her voice was pretty wobbly at that point, she ended with the theory that Keefe had come up with about Councillor Bronte, as well as their plan to find out if it was true, and the very mixed feelings she had about the whole thing.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated when she’d finished, squeezing her eyes as tight as she could. She definitely wasn’t ready to see the look on Fitz’s face as he processed all of those bombshells.

And then, it got very quiet.

The only sound was a bit of whisper-hissing out in the hallway from Grizel—Fitz’s bodyguard—who was also Sandor’s girlfriend, and who seemed to be less than thrilled that her boyfriend had kept her totally in the dark about all of this as well. And Sandor, being Sandor, was unapologetically defending his need to protect his charge’s secrets—which was great for Sophie. But was probably going to earn him another one of Grizel’s humiliating punishments involving tight pants and dancing.

“Anything you want to say?” Ro finally asked, and Sophie couldn’t tell which boy she was talking to. She still hadn’t worked up the courage to open her eyes.

Keefe was the one to speak up, and his voice sounded even farther away. “You get that the reason Foster went to the matchmakers was for you, right?” he asked Fitz. “And you know what a big deal that was for her, don’t you?”

Ro muttered something about foolish boys, which made it impossible to translate Fitz’s tone when he told Keefe, “Yeah.”

More silence followed, and Sophie went back to imagining which piece of furniture would be the best to fling through a window for her teleporting escape. And as the seconds stacked into minutes, she started to wonder if everyone had left.

Then she felt her mattress shift, and someone sat beside her on the bed.

“Okay.” Fitz’s voice was quiet, but she still flinched at his sudden closeness. “I don’t want this to be a big fight. So will you please just promise me something?”

She forced herself to look at him, needing several seconds for the world to blur back into focus. And her heart stumbled a beat when she found his gorgeous face staring at her without all the anger and betrayal she’d last seen in his expression.

He was the kind of handsome that made her eyes tune out everything except him, and her brain shut down—which was probably why she nodded without bothering to ask what she was promising.

“I just want you to remember this,” he told her, running a hand through his dark hair as he scooted even closer. He stopped when their legs touched, and that tiny contact between them felt like fireworks in Sophie’s veins. “I want you to remember me sitting here with you, not freaking out or causing any of the drama you’ve been worrying about, okay? I know I haven’t always been great about that—but I’m working on it. So I need you to work on trusting me—because having you avoid me like you’ve been doing really hurts. And finding out you’ve been hiding something this important totally sucks. And knowing you confided in other people before telling me makes it even worse.”

She hung her head. “I know. I’m really, really sorry.”

He tilted her chin back up, leaving his warm fingers resting there—which made it very hard to concentrate as he told her, “You don’t have to apologize, Sophie. Just try not to do it again. Especially the avoiding me part. I’ve really missed you.”

Her heart and stomach seemed to be competing over which could flutter the hardest. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Yeah?” He flashed one of his breathtaking smiles, and she needed a moment to remind herself that this was actually happening.

This beautiful, perfect guy she’d had a crush on from the moment she’d first stared into his impossibly teal eyes was really saying these things, and looking at her like she meant something—even knowing what the matchmakers had said.

And his fingers were really tracing up her jaw, triggering a new explosion of tingly fireworks as his gaze shifted to her mouth and he leaned closer.

Closer.

“Uh, not to ruin the smoochy-smoochy time,” Ro interrupted at the absolute last second—making Fitz snarl, “Are you kidding me?” as Sophie tried to decide if she wanted to die of embarrassment or launch the heaviest thing she could find at Ro’s head.

Ro shrugged, unrepentant. “Thought we’d left, didn’t you? Nope! Someone had to keep an eye on you two. And what kind of chaperone would I be if I didn’t remind you that Pretty Boy hasn’t actually said what he thinks about the whole unmatchable thing? In case that matters to you.”

“Stay out of it,” Keefe warned, adding a whole new level to Sophie’s humiliation.

She hid behind her hair, suddenly glad that Ro had interrupted.

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?”