“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.”

“She most certainly does not,” Sandor corrected from his position in the doorway that connected the patio they were on to the rest of the Shores of Solace.

Sophie couldn’t tell if he’d chosen that spot to keep an eye on both the house and the shoreline, or if he was there to keep Lord Cassius away from them. Either way, she was just glad Sandor hadn’t fought her—too hard—about the visit.

“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?”

Sophie laughed, and Keefe leaned back against the arm of the large cushioned swing they’d been sharing, watching the sun slowly sink toward the ocean.

“There’s the smile I’ve been waiting for! It’s about time, Foster! I wasn’t sure how many more biscuits I’d be able to stomach. I mean, these weren’t too bad”—he picked up the Jammie Dodgers from the stack of cookie packages piled between them—“but note to self: Next time Foster shows up out of the blue, clearly upset over something she’s been worrying about all day and yet refuses to talk about, stick with mallowmelt for the cheer-up process.”

Sophie’s gaze dropped to the pack of Custard Creams they still hadn’t opened. “I didn’t need cheering up. And I’m not worrying about anything.”

“Uh, do I really need to remind you that I’m an Empath?” he asked. “Or can I just pelt you with the rest of these Digestives? It’d be way better than having to eat them.”

He wasn’t wrong about anything he’d just said—but Sophie still stuck with the safer topic.

“I’m not feeling a whole lot of gratitude from you here for all the effort I went through to bring you back your biscuit shopping list—plus bonus treats,” she pointed out.

“You mean having Dizznee pull some money from your birth fund and then hitting up a shop for a couple of minutes?” Keefe asked. “Yeah, Dex told me all about how not exhausting that was last night, when he checked in to tell me how things went for you two in London, while someone was off doing something with Mr. Forkle that was clearly both frustrating and intense—as most things with Forkle tend to be.”

“Hey, I still thought of you!” Sophie argued, ignoring the obvious nudge he was giving the conversation. “That counts for something.”

“It does indeed, Foster,” Keefe said quietly, fidgeting with another Digestive. “It does indeed.”

A beat of silence followed before he cleared his throat and added, “But do you really think you’re going to be able to leave here without telling me what happened with the Forklenator? If you do, you’re going to be sorely, sorely disappointed—and covered in biscuit crumbs.”

“Don’t worry, she came here to talk to you about it,” Ro jumped in. “The cookies were just her excuse. You gonna deny it?” she asked when Sophie turned to scowl at her.

Sophie definitely wanted to.

But… Ro was right.

Sophie had spent the day avoiding Grady and Edaline’s questions about where Mr. Forkle had taken her—and ignoring whoever kept hailing her on her Imparter. And after a few hours of that, her bedroom had started to feel smaller and smaller and smaller. She’d been ready to beg Silveny to fly her somewhere far away when she’d noticed the bag of biscuits on her floor, and the next thing she knew, she was teleporting to the Shores of Solace again and claiming she’d wanted to bring Keefe his London cookies before they got stale.

“The thing is,” she said, scooting back as far as she could on the swing, since space felt important in that moment, “I made a decision yesterday—and it probably wasn’t the right decision, or the smart decision, but I made it anyway because… I just had to. And I’m sure I can take it back if I want, but… I don’t want to. And I figured you might understand that better than a lot of other people would.”

“Soooooooo, what you’re saying is, you think I’m the king of bad decisions,” Keefe said, laughing when Sophie fumbled for an apology. “Relax—I know what you meant. I’m just giving you a hard time. And you have a point. I’m not necessarily great at doing what I’m supposed to do and giving people what they want. And I’m not usually sorry about it either.”

“Don’t forget about all of the self-sabotage!” Ro added. “I can happily provide numerous examples.” She ducked when Keefe flung the package of Digestives at her. “That all you got, Cookie Boy?”

Keefe rolled his eyes and turned back to Sophie. “Anyway… how can I help?”

Sophie dropped her gaze back to the packs of biscuits, tracing her gloved fingers along the logo for the Hobnobs. “I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who might not judge me for what I decided, since I’m pretty sure most people are going to say I made the wrong call—and they’re probably right. I know what the smart thing to do is. I’m just so sick of always being the good little moonlark, you know?”

“Sorta?” Keefe said, waiting for her to look at him. “I mean, you came to the right place—this is definitely a judgment-free zone. But it miiiiiiiiiiight help if you tell me what the decision actually was. Just, you know, for clarity.”

Sophie gave in to the urge to tug on her itchy eyelashes as she explained what had happened in her missing memory, and how Mr. Forkle wanted to reset her inflicting and enhancing, and why she’d refused and leaped away.

“So… you chose to not let the Black Swan almost kill you—again,” Keefe said when she’d finished. “And you think people are going to judge you for that?”

“They should,” Sophie mumbled. “I have the chance to have an ability—or maybe two abilities—that might actually help us take down the Neverseen. And I know better than anyone how badly we’re going to need that kind of power.”

“Yeah, but you also know better than anybody what it feels like to almost die from a huge allergic reaction,” Keefe countered.

“I do,” Sophie agreed.

Her sister had said pretty much the same thing when Sophie had hailed her to check on her after she’d leaped back to Havenfield. Amy had been firmly on Team Don’t-You-Dare-Let-Them-Convince-You-to-Risk-Your-Life-Again.

But… Amy was also human.

She didn’t really understand the gigantic problems the entire planet was facing, or how they threatened the safety of every single species.

“The thing is,” Sophie admitted quietly, “that’s not why I said ‘no’ to what Mr. Forkle was asking. I’m used to pain. I don’t like it—but it’s not like it’s a deal-breaker or anything. And I’m not that worried about surviving, since I’m pretty sure Mr. Forkle, Elwin, and Livvy would find a way to get me through. I even know how valuable the abilities might be. I just… I’m sick of everyone telling me to trust them when they clearly don’t trust me. And I’m really tired of no one caring about what I want when it comes to… pretty much anything. I mean, would it be so hard for someone to say, ‘Hey, Sophie, we get how rough this is for you and we want to do something to make your life a little easier’? Is that such an unreasonable dream? Especially since all I’ve been asking for is a tiny bit of personal information?”