Keefe nodded. “A son. Actually, I think you’ve met him—his name’s Dempsey. He was a Level Six when you were a Level Two, and I feel like I remember you showing him who’s boss in a splotching match one time.”

“That does sound familiar,” Sophie agreed.

She didn’t recall him being all that nice—though she had just defeated him in front of the whole school and splattered his face with bright orange goo.

“Want me to see if Biana and I can coordinate a confrontation for Lady Pemberley?” Keefe offered.

“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “I think we’re going to need to be careful about how many people find out what we’re searching for. The more times we’re wrong, the more we risk that rumors will start flying and my biological parents will go into hiding—or at least be prepared to lie if we confront them.”

Plus, it could cause a lot more speculation about her matchmaking status, but Sophie wasn’t in the mood to remind him about that.

“I was wondering about that too,” Keefe said, finally peeling the Jammie Dodger off his face. “We might need a new strategy.”

“Like what?” Sophie asked.

He popped the cookie into his mouth, then licked his thumb and set to work removing the sticky jam residue left on his cheek. “Still working on it. Might have to get a bit creative.”

“I like creative!” Ro agreed.

Sandor muttered something unintelligible—though Sophie was pretty sure she caught the word “ridiculous.”

“In the meantime,” Keefe said, swiping the last of the raspberry smear off of his face, “you still haven’t answered the extra-super-duper-important question, Foster.”

“And what’s that?” Sophie asked.

He motioned for her to lean in closer, like he was afraid his father might be eavesdropping.

“The question is”—his eyes locked with hers—“when are you taking me to go get some of these magical E.L. Fudge thingies? Because they’re officially a need, Foster. I neeeeeeeeeeeed tiny elf-shaped cookies in my life. I can’t believe you’ve never brought me any before! In fact, I kinda feel like that’s a betrayal of our friendship!”

The question was so unexpected that Sophie couldn’t stop the loud snort-laugh from bursting out, which of course was followed by a fit of embarrassed giggles.

“You’re not laughing your way out of this one either, Miss F!” Keefe warned her. “I expect another cookie delivery ASAP—and this time it needs to have all those kinds you mentioned, plus anything else shaped like an elf. And you’d better be able to answer all my questions about them and not give me any excuses about…”

“About?” Sophie asked when his voice trailed off—right before she realized his eyes were focused on something over her shoulder.

Or someone.

Sophie had never thought she’d hope to turn around and find Lord Cassius standing there watching her—but she definitely would’ve preferred him over the handsome, teal-eyed guy with the crossed arms and the surly brow.

“Hey, Fitzy’s here!” Keefe said, shooting a quick glare at Sandor—though this wasn’t totally Sandor’s fault.

Fitz hadn’t come through the door that Sandor had been guarding, instead using a side patio entrance that Sophie hadn’t even noticed. Grizel stood several steps behind him, and Lord Cassius loomed several steps behind her, tucked in the shadows of the arched doorway, almost like he’d intentionally snuck Fitz onto the patio.

Then again, that didn’t explain why Ro and Sandor hadn’t warned them that they had visitors—unless the reason for that was because no one needed a warning.

Once again, Sophie had to remind herself that she and Keefe weren’t doing anything wrong.

Keefe had asked for biscuits.

She’d brought him biscuits.

Then they’d talked for a bit—because they were friends.

And Fitz knew they were friends.

“You need to get in on this, Fitzy,” Keefe said, holding up the box of Jaffa Cakes. “Foster and Dizznee proved that they’ll do anything I ask them to”—he made a dramatic, evil laugh—“and brought me a bunch of human cookies. They’re mostly disappointing, I’m not gonna lie. But! There are still a few we haven’t tried, and who knows? They might be the life-changing ones. And you can help me convince Foster to go get us these elf-shaped cookies I’m just now learning about—though I also think she owes us all an apology for not telling us about the elf-shaped cookies sooner, don’t you? And I think she needs to use her teleporting way more often. I’m thinking we should give her a weekly Forbidden Cities item to track down for us. Maybe then I’ll finally be able to try Ding Dongs. I don’t know what they are—but I read something about them in my research, and I mean, they’re called ‘Ding Dongs,’ so I’m here for it. You with me?”

He held up his hand like he was hoping Fitz would stride over and give him a high five.

Fitz did not.

“Looks like you’re having an interesting day,” Grizel said, her voice extra husky as she sauntered over to Sandor.

“You have no idea,” Sandor squeak-murmured. “And I’m pretty sure it’s about to get worse.”

Sophie had the same feeling, especially when she forced herself to meet Fitz’s eyes and was not gifted with one of his perfect smiles.

“Have you tried hailing me today?” she asked, really, really, really hoping he hadn’t.

“Three times,” he told her.

Even Keefe winced at that.

Okay, so maybe that was why Sophie felt so bad.

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing up from the swing to face him. “It’s been kinda a rough day—but I guess that’s not a very good excuse.”

“It isn’t,” Fitz agreed.

Silence followed, and Sophie wished Keefe would break it with another ramble about E.L. Fudges.

But he was too busy glaring at his father, while Lord Cassius raised one eyebrow back at him.

She cleared her throat and took a few steps toward Fitz—stopping before actually reaching him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted, “though maybe I should’ve guessed?”

“Yeah, we were working on”—she glanced at Lord Cassius and corrected the rest of that sentence—“that project Keefe’s helping me with—trying to come up with an alternate strategy in case we need to be a little subtler.” And because she didn’t want him to think she was hiding anything from him, she added, “We also talked through a couple of other things I still need to tell you about.”

“How come you’re here, Fitzy?” Keefe asked, jumping in before Fitz could ask any of the harder questions, like when Sophie had been planning to tell him about those things or why she hadn’t come to him first. “Finally ready for that bramble rematch? If so, I say loser has to eat the rest of the Digestives.” He pointed to the slightly smashed package he’d tossed at Ro earlier.

“Actually, Fitz is here to help me,” Lord Cassius interceded, smoothing the sides of his hair.

Keefe’s eyes narrowed at his dad. “With what?”