Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Sophie, it's okay."

Sophie nearly jumped as two hands reached over to stop her fumbling fingers. She'd been messing with the button on her suit, anxiously picking and prodding at it for no reason. She had to find something to do with her hands since she didn't want to risk sacrificing the makeup her mother had spent so much time on just to tug on a few eyelashes. So, she settled for unbuttoning and re-buttoning frantically.

Edaline was smiling down sweetly at her as Sophie released a long exhale. Edaline bent over slightly, readjusting it for her daughter so that it was set perfectly in place. Her hand trailed up to cup Sophie's cheek for a bliss second to show her affection, and when Edaline spotted a stray strand of hair tangled in Sophie's dangling earring, she uncoiled it softly.

Sophie stared up at her, blushing because she felt so dishevelled, but also extremely pampered. There were a few guests watching them quietly.

Edaline noticed and she pulled her hand away from the dazzling earring once it had been fixed. Her smile didn't falter as she asked, "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"Mom," Sophie groaned, and it made Edaline laugh lightly. Her laugh was always light and delicate, Sophie noted. But she couldn't just attribute it to chiming bells -- it was more melodic and sweet. Chiming bells sent images of high-pitched choir bells dinging obnoxiously. No, Edaline's laugh was as wind chimes, but as light as floating balloons and soft as tears.

Yet, Edaline looked anything but light or delicate in that moment. Regal and powerful were the first things that flashed to the front of Sophie's mind when she looked at her adoptive mother in that snapshot of a moment. She'd convinced her to ditch the gowns for the day's proceedings, and now Edaline looked like a woman on a striking mission. The light blue complimented her eyes perfectly, and contrasted with her caramel curls that rushed around her shoulders like a waterfall. Her glossed lips were curving when Sophie met her eyes. "You have no reason to be nervous, Sophie. It's just another day."

"They seem to be getting farther away from any treaties," Sophie grumbled in response, shoving her hands in her pants pockets to avoid the urge of tugging on anything else.

"Dimitar is persistent," Edaline agreed with a bob of her head, eliciting a wistful sigh from Sophie.

"I can't wait until we eat dinner."

Edaline laughed, and even though Sophie had said it in full seriousness, her cheeks tainted pink. "We just ate lunch, Sophie."

"And now all of this stress is making me hungry," she groaned, and Edaline laughed some more, lifting the weight off of Sophie's shoulders. It could be worse, she supposed. She could be all alone at this summit, but instead, she got to spend time with her mother. "It feels like everyone is watching me."

Sophie frowned as she said it, eyes darting around the room to see if it was true. People were, in fact, looking at her. Mr. Forkle caught her eyes, sending her a reassuring dip of his chin before resuming his conversation with another elf and Sophie held back a sigh. Especially when Edaline began trying to give her a pep-talk.

"They're just enraptured," she said with a grin clearly meant to lift her spirits. "They aren't staring at you because. . ."

She was only half-listening, she knew that. A sliver of her felt guilty for purposely blotting out parts of what Edaline was saying, but all she could focus on was the very noticeable amount of people staring. A few of them made direct eye contact with her as she scanned the room, quickly darting their eyes away in embarrassment, and it made Sophie's body heat.

". . . Strong in the face of adversity. . ."

So many eyes. So many pairs of eyes, from blue to green to—

She sucked in a barely audible, but sharp breath. The air escaped her lungs in a flash, and her eyes widened in horror. What is that?

Her brain was reeling because surely she wasn't seeing what she thought she was. The figure wasn't moving, so she knew it was all in her head, her mind was playing tricks on her, anything.

They waved.

Her heart plummeted down to her shoes. Not a dream.

They were peeking out from behind the corner of a hallway, part of their long cloak billowing past the wall into her line of sight. She recognized that hood and sleeve anywhere, but who was it? How had they gotten in? The security was insane, so surely it just had to be her.

". . . I think—"

Sophie whirled to her mother. "Please be safe for a second, okay?"

Edaline's mouth was still open mid-sentence when her elegant brows puckered. "What?" she asked, needing clarification.

But Sophie was already backing up from her, holding out her hands. "Just. . . Bathroom! I'm going to the bathroom."

Sophie turned away from her, striding swiftly out of the large ballroom before anyone could try and stop her. She noted the multitude of eyes resting on her shoulders, making her face flame as she sped out, gaze glued to the corner she'd seen the cloak disappear around.

Who are you who are you who are you ?

Her heart was drumming in her chest, pounding and thrashing like a bucking horse, and as her stomach twisted she knew she shouldn't have been wishing for more food earlier.

Bile shot up into her mouth as she stormed around the corner as bravely as she could manage, shoulders stiffened. She halted instantly when the figure was only practically a foot away from her, and she scrambled back.

A lump lodged in her throat, and she was about to demand who they were, when a chuckle erupted from underneath the vast shadow of the hood that concealed their face. They swished it back, revealing tousled blond hair and striking ice blue eyes that filled her mind much too often. His smirk was contagious as he strode towards her casually, eyeing her suit. "So, like, you don't think this neckline goes down too far for something as formal as this?" he asked, reaching forward and brushing a thumb down it. "I'm also fairly sure you're not wearing anything underneath that suit coat, given the fact I see no undershirt or bra—"

Keefe Sencen. Keefe fucking Sencen.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, grabbing him by the collar. She darted her eyes around to check for any witnesses before storming off, dragging him behind her. They swirled around corners, jumping into new hallway after new hallway before she spotted one that was a dead-end. She set out towards it, away from the party, hoping that no one had seen. When she reached a spot where she knew no one could see them (unless they strolled down that specific hallway) and she could only hear the muffled sounds of voices, she harshly shoved him against the pristine wall.

It glittered behind him, illuminating his hair to the point where it appeared as if he had a halo. With it, she could see just how pale he was against the warm glow of the crystal, and the light revealed several bruises littering his body. She could see them peeking out from under his collar, and even though she knew they weren't from her, she panicked, shame and guilt flushing through her body. It also wasn't like it was rare to see him beat up, because, between his hectic lifestyle, constant shenanigans, and (the one she hated most) his association with the Neverseen, he revealed himself scarred to her half the time.

But every time it managed to punch her in the gut.

She flinched her hand away from him, wringing her fingers. "What are you doing here?" she repeated when Keefe simply looked her up and down.

His infamous smirk stretched onto his face, brightening his eyes. "What, you don't want to see me?" 

Sophie pushed her hand against his chest, disregarding the nearby bruises. Luckily, Keefe only chuckled. "C'mon, Foster, I haven't had time with you for a month."

The way he mumbled it set a fire burning low in her navel. He lifted his hand, letting his fingers brush against her cheek and linger. He swirled one of the hairs framing her face around his finger, fumbling with it for a few extra seconds before tucking it behind her ear. His touch ignited a tingle that shot up her spine.

Sophie sighed as he began messing with her dangling earring, thumbing the glittering diamonds between his fingers. He stared at them before she pushed his hand away tenderly, lacing their fingers together at the last second.

His teasing statement was true, and she had to admit that she'd missed him just as much as it appeared he had missed her.

Ever since Keefe had joined the Neverseen two years ago, they'd been secretly meeting one another at least once a month. Whenever time allotted and they could sneak away from their overbearing duties, they made it a point to meet one another. Usually in a secluded place, but sometimes they had to settle for trying to blend in with crowds.

At first Sophie had selfishly set them up not only because she missed Keefe and wanted so desperately to see him again, to know he was okay, (which she would never admit straight to his face) but she'd also wanted to raise every attempt that she could to try and convince him that he could come back. That they'd welcome him with open arms. That he had a purpose and was loved and appreciated.

All attempts were futile.

In fact, with every meeting, she noticed Keefe's growing agitation and how much less patience he tended to have with her and her words.

There was one day when he finally snapped at her for it, calling her out on the fact that she was only there to try and convince him to come back to her side. Partially true, she knew. But she also just. . . Needed to see him. Needed time with him, because some stupid part of her heart couldn't let him go so easily.

It broke Sophie that they were on opposite sides. After his confrontation that day, she'd felt him stretching further away from the light. Drifting over the hard lines he'd originally promised he wouldn't cross. And she knew.

She knew they were enemies now.

And yet, they were. . . Also not enemies, in a way.

She could see that by the way her stomach fluttered anytime he got close to her in the hallway, and by the way he was currently looking at her. They weren't here to fight, she knew, nor were they meeting to try and recruit one another for the side. And he knew that just the same.

Because after he yelled at her that day, almost two years ago, her reaction to his snapping had been to storm forward, grab his face, and crash their mouths together.

They'd kissed.

○

Sophie twined her fingers, constricting her blood flow. She watched the colour drain from them, going from peach to stark white, reminding her of the clouded sky outside. No blue was visible, muddled over by white and grey clouds. A gloomy day. Perfect for her mood, she supposed.

Keefe was growing distant. Though, more distant was the better phrase. He had already been distant with her for a while, but now she couldn't deny he had truly reached his peak of impatience with her. It was odd (but mostly alarming) for her to see his fuse so short, as he'd always been so gracious towards her. His tempers with her had been mellow, if they even existed at all, back then.

Now everything was. . . Different.

The clack of a tongue made Sophie jump. "That is a lot of worry, Foster."

She whirled around, hand clutched around her throat, and she blew out a breath of pure relief when she saw him standing in her doorway. Quickly her eyes narrowed. "How did you get in here without all my bodyguards seeing you?"

He fanned out his fingers and excitedly shook his hands in a jazzy gesture. "Magic."

She rolled her eyes and Keefe laughed, though she found it anything but funny. It honestly had begun to terrify her how easily he evaded any and all security precautions Sandor laid out. "Did Grady or Edaline see you?"

Keefe cocked an eyebrow. "You really think I would have made it to your bedroom if Grady had seen me? I'm flattered, but let's be honest here. Realistically, you'd have found me in the verminion's food."

Sophie shrugged, stealing a glance out the window. She didn't know how to respond to Keefe's humour anymore. It felt too light-hearted and simple like it belonged solely to their past.

Keefe seemed to notice, clearing his throat. He lifted his eyebrows temporarily as he readjusted against the door frame, leaning against it casually. She stared out the window for a few extra seconds (that she was thankful for because she wasn't sure how to look at him without getting lost in his eyes) before she heard him call for her. "So, what's in it for us, today?"

There was an attempted light, teasing ring to the edges of his voice, but she knew in reality he was asking her in full seriousness why she'd called him there.

Sophie watched the way his cloak swished around his legs as he tapped his boot against the door frame, waiting. You're staring, he brain warned. Look up, you're staring.

She swallowed thickly, tearing her eyes away, forcing herself to meet his. She was enraptured just like that, heart picking up its pace in her chest. They weren't like Fitz's eyes, unique, where you didn't think of them even existing. But they were beautiful, the perfect mix of a clear sky and frost over a glistening lake. It pricked at her heart.

Sophie squared her shoulders, blinking her eyes softly to avoid having constant, unwavering eye contact with him, and she pinned her arms to her sides to keep from tugging on her eyelashes. "I, uh, I wanted to talk."

He cocked one curious brow. He looked her up and down in one swift motion. "Oh?"

She took a deep breath, shifting on her feet. "Yeah, um. . ." Sophie screwed eyes shut, taking one long and slow breath in through her mouth, releasing it through her nose. She still felt anxiety wafting through her, but she forced it down. 

When she opened her eyes, Keefe was watching her patiently from the doorway, though it looked like he was itching to get closer to her by the way he was fidgeting.

"I. . . wanted to talk about you and your. . . decision. Again."

Keefe fluttered his eyelids. "Oh."

"Yeah, um. . ." She had barely even started, but she already felt the urge to rip off all her eyelashes. "Okay. For starters, I just. . . Need to remind you that I'm not attacking you when I say these things. I'm only trying to remind you that everyone here is your support system, Keefe. I know it's been a few months, a-and I can't deny that you may have made some secure connections over, er, there. But we all. . . We all genuinely care for you, Keefe."

He was standing ramrod at the door, now.

You're repeating his name too much.

She swallowed. "A-And I know that what your mother laid out. . . It's tempting, yeah. She's your Mom, after all. But you don't need to follow it. You have so much more ahead of you, and you weren't born for one sole thing. Hell, I wasn't made for one sole thing."

He bit the inside of his cheek, part of it sinking in.

"You can always come to us, Keefe. Any of us. We're all here for you. I—"

He muttered under his breath, tiredly, "You've said this a million times." 

Sophie clamped her jaw shut, eyebrows pressing together. She watched him run a hand down his face, exhausted, a sigh escaping. Her entire speech was thrown out the window, entirely forgotten at the look of pure rage building in his eyes. She'd never seen that directed towards her, so her body went rigid at the sight of it. "What was that?" she asked.

Keefe grumbled. "I just. . . Foster. You. . . I love you, but you don't know when to quit!" Sophie flinched at the way his volume rose so quickly. He seemed so exasperated that Sophie grazed over the love comment.

Her heart was in her throat, yet her blood was beginning to boil. "What do you mean?"

"This!" he practically roared, gesturing to all of her. "You only meet up with me to tell me the same shit over and over. I'm-I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you, but that's true and you know it."

She scowled. "If it were true that you didn't want me hurt you wouldn't have joined the other side. I was only trying to tell you the truth, Keefe. You think you have to stay with them, but you don't."

Keefe scoffed, throwing his hands back up in the air at her reply. "Oh, well, it seems we're back at it."

"I'm serious, Keefe! You think sucking up to your mother is going to—" She clenched her jaw. Fuck, wrong words. "Sorry, no, I—"

"See, this. This is not the Foster I know."

"This isn't the Keefe I know! You've changed! So much. And I don't like it."

He grit his teeth, a muscle feathering in his cheek. "I haven't changed one damn bit!"

"Yes, you have! I don't know a time when you'd ever yell at me before all this bullshit!"

"Maybe I'm just learning to speak up for myself!"

"Maybe I'm learning, that, too!"

"This is so fucking stupid!" Keefe exclaimed, laughing bitterly. He drug a hand over his face. "It's not ever my intent to hurt you, Foster, but you can't just expect me to stay calm when you drag me all over the place, giving me this false hope. And then you constantly badger me with these pep talks, thinking one day I'm going to give in and just come back home. I don't have a home here!"

Sophie bit her tongue to keep from snapping. She'd never heard anything like this from him, and even though part of her knew it was just him spewing out random junk to take a load off his shoulders, she knew that he didn't mean any of it, she couldn't deny the part of her core that was burning with rage. "Keefe—"

"You know what, Sophie? No. I'm not going to listen to it anymore. I know I've changed because of my Mom, but I don't care right now. And I know that after I've said all this to you, I've probably lost you. But whatever. I thought I lost you awhile ago. I don't even know why you've put up with me this long. I don't understand why you hold on to this delusion that I'm going to one day waltz back and—"

"Oh my God, would you just shut the fuck up?!"

The air between them froze. Keefe made a face at her, clearly surprised, but she held her ground, glaring at him. Keefe's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stalked up to her in a flash, Sophie's heart leaping into her throat. For a brief second her eyes widened as he towered over her, his face mere centimetres from hers.

"Make me."

The way he growled it threatened a tingle that yearned to run up Sophie's spine, but she ignored it. Instead, her eyes widened for a second. She blinked briskly and quickly narrowed them, looking him up and down as if he was insane. Her nose scrunched, but not in disgust — mere thought. Finally, she snapped, "Fine, then."

Sophie harshly grabbed his collar, yanking him down while meeting the action by standing on her tiptoes. Keefe's mouth crashed onto hers with a muffled "Hmph!" and she just knew his eyes were bulging, even though she'd squeezed hers shut.

Oh, she knew it was wrong. She knew it was so wrong to be kissing the enemy because this would either drive a wedge between them or push them further apart, but it was also so right because every piece of her puzzle was finally shifting into place. Even if he pushed her away out of disgust, she knew she wouldn't regret getting to soak up one last piece of him before he left her.

But he didn't leave. In fact, soon his mouth was moving along with hers, and it felt so much more magical than it had when she'd been moving to her own accord. She didn't care that half of the power was now in his hands because she'd succumb to this touch any day. Every day.

The first time Sophie broke the kiss to suck in more air to her burning lungs, she'd expected Keefe to snap back to and push her away, saying it was wrong and they had to stop, but he just kept returning. Every time they'd part for more air to allow them to go under again, he kissed her with more fever, hard and frenzied and pulsing with energy.

She opened her eyes at one point to check how he looked, out of curiosity, to find his brow furrowed in concentration. It made her lips curve into a satisfied smile, the kiss twisting and breaking with a crude pop before they reconnected.

Sophie didn't know how long the kisses lasted. All she knew was that his hands were on her face, her fingers had become numb from gripping his collar, and her lips were swollen from the many times they'd accidentally jammed teeth against one another.

The kisses slowed eventually until they were both focusing on gulping in the air around them, foreheads pressed senselessly together. Cautiously, their eyes locked, sea and earth swimming together.

"Well. . ." Keefe cleared his throat, which was still hoarse from the kiss. "Okay. You win, then, Foster."

○

Sophie snapped out of the memory as Keefe hummed in thought, rubbing her earlobe for a brief second before sliding his fingers down her earring one last time.

Ever since that day, they'd taken aside the time to sneak away and steal kisses, bask in each other's arms, delight in the enemy. They hadn't put any label on it — hadn't much thought about the detail any more than need be. They were content with the soft touches and the time they carved out for the other (never speaking of their respective sides during that time, however).

No one else knew of their rendezvous. But, if they weren't careful, someone was going to find out very fast.

Sophie looked down the hallway again, trying to check to ensure no one was coming, but hands sliding onto her waist distracted her. She rose an eyebrow when Keefe tugged her forward, and mirth danced in his eyes as he chuckled at her expression. "That was a mood drop," he murmured.

"Well, you're distracting me," she grumbled, placing her hands onto his chest. She shifted in his arms, turning her head again out of instinct to check for any people or guards passing by. Keefe hummed as she absent-mindedly drew patterns onto the warm, thick cloak over his collarbones, and it made her realize just how near his face had gotten. He was right up against the side of her face, lips tickling her ear. She didn't give him the satisfaction of her flicking her eyes to peer at him out of curiosity — no matter how much she wanted to — but he still seemed satisfied, because he chuckled. "Your mood is all over the place, Foster. Just relax."

"But what if someone—"

"You say that every time," he reminded softly. He leaned back, then, to meet her eyes in some attempt to display that he knew they were going to be fine. She lifted her hands off his chest and cupped his face, holding his intense, smouldering gaze just to say she'd held it that day. She wanted to memorize his eyes, burn them into her brain so that she'd get to see them as she dreamt.

"So," he purred, grabbing the collar of her suit and running his hands down it. They grazed over her chest, finally slipping back to her waist once the neckline ended and he decided it was best not to let his hands rest there. "Suit?"

She blushed. Crazy, she thought, how that one simple word could send her spiralling over the edge like that. He obviously saw (and felt) the effect it had on her, grinning as he playfully reached behind and tugged on her low ponytail softly.

"Suit, yes," she agreed after clearing her throat and swatting at his hand. He recoiled with a chuckle, hands resuming their place on her hips. "But not for long, sadly. It's required that I have to wear an evening gown for the dance."

"There's a dance at this thing?"

Sophie snorted, musing over the fact that that was the detail he honed in on. She set her hands on his shoulders. "Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy if you ask me. Dimitar looks like he wants to slice everyone's throats, so I doubt a glittering dance is going to appeal to him. And everyone is. . ." Sophie's face flamed. "Well, we're all different species. And some are very. . . Short. In comparison to others, I mean."

Keefe burst into laughter at that, and Sophie's face went supernova as she hushed him. She begged him to quiet down, fear gripping her heart at the thought of someone finding them in the hallway, but then she couldn't help the slight smile that cracked on her face at the way his bubbly laughter lifted her mood. "Not gonna dance with a dwarf, Foster?"

"Not likely, no," she admitted, brushing some hair off his forehead. "Don't think I'll be doing any dancing."

Keefe pursed his lips. "Oh?"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Since when have you known me to dance? For one, it's ballroom dancing. That screams 'elegant and graceful,' whereas I scream 'will trip over air.' Secondly, no one is going to dance with me. I'm, like, the only kid here."

Keefe frowned, tracing circles over her hips. "That's a shame, Foster."

Sophie shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "No, I don't really mind. If I were to dance with anyone. it'd be my Mom, just for fun—"

"No, like, you seem really distraught about this," Keefe said, reaching up and placing the back of his hand against her forehead like he was checking for a fever. Her eyebrows pressed together in confusion, temporarily believing what he was saying. But then she caught the look on her face, a smirk twisted his mouth upwards, and she knew he was teasing with her. Her eyes shifted to it, that damn smirk, and when she met his eyes again, they were gleaming in triumph.

He knew. Oh, he knew she wanted those lips on hers.

She was in trouble.

Keefe tsked as he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. A startled yelp escaped past her lips as her back crashed against the wall, two hands boxing her in on both sides.

"So, why don't you let me make it up to you?" His voice had dropped, low and steady, his eyes calculated as he searched over her.

"Keefe, we're out in the open," she whispered, a shiver running down her back.

"A little kissing isn't going to kill you."

"It's never a little kissing with you."

Sophie flushed as the words came out, but Keefe just quirked up an eyebrow, laughing softly. "And vice-versa," he agreed quietly, humming in thought as he stooped to cover his mouth over hers.

Sophie made a tiny sound of surprise the moment they touched, his lips vibrating with his humming. Sophie wrapped her arms over Keefe's shoulders, pulling him closer, and she could feel his lips smile on her.

Sophie rose on her tiptoes, deepening the kiss, sighing contently into his mouth. All rational thoughts flew away at his touch, and she couldn't even find time to dwell on the fear of being caught.

The kiss was dry and chaste and would have been much quicker if Keefe hadn't parted his lips. He sprung to action, recognizing the fact that they didn't have much time with each other before someone would notice Sophie's absence. She felt his tongue prod her lips after running it along her lower lip, and when she allowed him access, she sucked in a tiny breath at his teeth grabbing onto her lower lip. He tugged, and she knew nothing would ever rival that, groaning. He seemed satisfied with every sound he could cause her to create, and when he released her lip to return to his mouth, she found his tongue replacing that disappointing absence.

He swept over every inch of her mouth skillfully, exploring and sending rushes of blinding sensations coursing through Sophie's. She shivered, moving her mouth against his, wishing the night wouldn't change. Wouldn't end. And that they could stay like that forever.

○

Sophie didn't know where Keefe had disappeared to after their. . . run in. All she knew was that he'd pulled back halfway through the ravenous kisses, saying he should probably go before anyone noticed he was gone. She knew it was the same for her, but every piece of her had screamed not to let him go, unsure of when she'd see him next. Unsure of whether or not it would be for love or war.

Edaline noticed her funk all throughout the rest of the day, and into the night. She made several comments on it while they were in their suite, getting ready for the mandatory dance later that evening.

Edaline combed her fingers through Sophie's hair, watching as the elixir curled her hair softly. She de-tangled any stray threads, fluffing the gold waves and watching them cascade around her daughter's shoulders. "Sophie, are you sure you're okay?"

Sophie noticed the way her mother met her eyes in the vanity in front of them. Sophie wished she could avoid her gaze by staring out a window, for she knew the view outside had to be beautiful, but all the walls were marble. Beautiful, but cold. "I'm just nervous."

She knew was lying through her straight, white teeth. And she felt Edaline knew, too. But she didn't comment on it. Simply fluffed out her hair one last time before settling her hands on Sophie's shoulders, smiling at her in the mirror. "Well, I'll be there with you the whole time. You know that, right?"

Sophie bobbed her head, happy to feel some of the warm of her mother's hands seep into her. It lightened her mood, just for a second.

Next, they both broke apart respectively to change into their gowns, and Sophie was spending the entire time scowling in the mirror and how elaborate and fancy everything had to be. She knew if she could curse the summit's rules, she would. In a heartbeat.

As Sophie struggled to zip up her dress in the back (which was a hassle, given the fact it was so low down, half her back exposed) she couldn't stop catching her eyes in the mirror. It felt conceited of her to think, but for once, once, she felt. . . Pretty.

Her brain couldn't even deny it as she observed herself in the mirror. Soft, tangled curles tumbling around her shoulders, bright eyes, stewed-red cherry dress clinging to her curves. It was a brave move of her to wear it, a shoulder-less, tight thing with a low neckline and a skirt that only flared out once it reached her knees. But she loved it. She really, really loved it.

"Need help?"

Edaline appeared behind her in the mirror, and Sophie looked her mother over as she helped her to zip up her dress. Edaline was always this gorgeous being, delicate and fragile looking with pink cheeks and dainty hands. The dress that adorned her told the same story, flaming with subtle browns and oranges that blended into one another, reminding Sophie of an autumn sunset. 

Sophie knew better, though. Edaline was anything but finicky or delicate.

"Thanks," Sophie said as Edaline backed up, done with zipping. Sophie stole one last look before she turned to watch where Edaline was walking to, hearing her heels clack across the tiles.

"Last touch," Edaline promised. When she reached for a string of diamonds, Sophie held up her fingers.

"Oh, wait."

Sophie hobbled over to the vanity (the combination of heels and tight dress were not her friend), sliding out one of the white drawers. She dug around inside until she found it, pulling out the short string of painted beads. Keefe's necklace.

Sophie's face turned as red as her dress, very aware Edaline was watching her with some hint of sympathy in her eyes as she put the necklace on. Edaline watched as the beads were wrapped snugly around her neck, not even grazing her collarbones.

Sophie awkwardly let her arms fall as she clipped it in the back, wiping her sweaty palms on the hips of her dress.

Edaline wasn't frowning, but her mouth wasn't in its neutral position, coiled down lightly. She set down the diamonds, which were twinkling in the hazy light of the room. "Do you miss him?" 

Sophie blinked. She hadn't been expecting her mother to ask it so bluntly, and not so soon, so it knocked her back a step. For some unknown reason, a lump lodged in her throat that she couldn't shake. ". . .Yes."

"Oh, Sophie. . ."

She strode forward without another word, intertwining her fingers with her daughter's. Sophie sniffled despite herself, eyes pricking with tears. In the past two years, she hadn't cried for Keefe. She'd sworn she wouldn't because he always came back to see her, so it was senseless to have another part of her body endlessly in full panic mode.

So, just seeing him yesterday, she didn't know why she was crying. She wasn't scared for his safety (not too much, at least). They hadn't had a big blowout or anything crazy. They'd left on good terms. So why was there a lump constricting her throat? Why were her eyes burning?

"I wish. . ." She swallowed. She didn't want to cry. Didn't want to mess up all the time and effort Edaline had put into her makeup, even if she would have preferred to have her face bare. "I wish he was still with us."

You make it sound dramatic. You make it sound like he's dead. He visits you every month. Why are you so close to crying?

 Edaline pulled Sophie into a hug, and hair and makeup be damned, Sophie put her face into her mother's shoulder, focusing on inhaling and exhaling slowly.

"You never talk to us about him," Edaline said, rubbing circles onto her exposed shoulder blades, dipping to her lower back a few times. "You never tell us how that made you feel."

Sophie choked, "I wish I'd done more."

"It's not your fault, Sophie."

She bit her tongue, lip trembling. No tears. Don't cry.

"Sometimes I feel like it is," she whispered.

○

Sophie and Edaline ended up being a few minutes late to the event, because Edaline had insisted that Sophie shouldn't be forced to interact with anyone before she was ready. Sophie had begrudgingly agreed, feeling more than flustered at how she felt so pampered; until she concurred that had probably been for the best because if she had had any run in with Dimitar a few minutes earlier, she would have had a breakdown.

So, when they strolled in five minutes late, hand-in-hand, Sophie was eternally grateful when dozens of eyes didn't turn to stare at her. That was credited to the dim lights, Sophie knew, but she still sent a silent thank you out into the universe.

When she met Mr. Forkle's eyes from across the room, she waved, blushing when she noticed his high eyebrows. He'd probably heard the random thank you.

She felt sound enough to turn away after he'd fluttered his hand back at her in greeting, shooting a smile towards Edaline.

"So. . . Three hours of standing."

Edaline laughed. "Or eating. You're still hungry, right?"

Sophie's stomach wanted to gargle and grumble just thinking about it. She followed Edaline's pointed finger to the long table filled with gleaming platters topped full of food.

Edaline laughed again, something whimsical, and kissed Sophie's cheek when she saw her eyes gleaming. "I'm going to go speak to Mr. Forkle, to make sure we haven't missed anything. He'll transmit to you if we need you, or I'll meet back and relay everything to you once you've eaten. Okay?"

Any other day Sophie would have accused her of acting suspicious, or of trying to have some secret conversation, but Sophie had gone tunnel vision, ready to drown any sorrows in food. "Okay," she said, mouth already watering.

Edaline smiled before pecking one last kiss to her cheek, walking away to join Mr. Forkle and Oralie, who were conversing on the other side of the room.

Sophie swallowed the urge to follow as she stole one last glance at Edaline reuniting with them, setting her feet in motion to carry herself to the food. As she got closer to the table, she remembered she wasn't familiar with half of the delicacies the elvin world had to offer, so she could only recognize a few dishes, like slices of mallowmelt and a few daintily decorated ripplepuffs. She wasn't craving desserts, but since she couldn't identify any of the main courses, she decided to play it safe and pluck a few sweets onto her plate.

She ended up walking away with three oddly-coloured ripplepuffs. She'd known humans used food colouring often, but this was a whole other level, because each baked treat was gleaming a different metallic colour. Bronze, gold, and silver. There had been other options, too, like vibrant ruby red and a deep sapphire blue, but she'd ignored them. She hoped that she'd chosen wisely.

Sophie settled into a chair on a far wall, steering clear of the clusters of people who were chatting, and the strobe lights washing over the dance floor.

Sophie was sadly disappointed to find that all three ripplepuffs tasted the same, and when she finished and her eyes landed on Edaline and Mr. Forkle talking, she shot up from her seat, not wanting to speculate what they could be discussing.

Sophie didn't even have the time to yelp as the toe of her high heel caught underneath her, body flying forward. Her chin crashed into a chest, two arms encasing her.

"Whoa, hey, slow there!"

Sophie scrambled back in their arms with a barked, "Shit!", eyes flying open. She gulped in air, and when her heart slunk back into her chest from her mouth. Her wide eyes locked with two ice blue ones, which were swimming with mischief.

She'd been halfway through a bumbling apology when it clicked in her brain whose arms she had catapulted herself into. "Keefe," she gasped.

"Hey, there, Fost— Whoa!" Keefe burst into laughter when Sophie threw herself up into his arms, crushing him with a hug. "Hey," he whispered into her shoulder. "Hey, I missed you, too."

"You're back," she exclaimed, giggling into his shoulder. "You're back!"

"I'm glad to see you, too."

She shuddered when she felt his lips nuzzle onto her bare shoulder, smiling. Sophie squeezed him a bit harder before pulling back, looking him up and down. Her eyelids fluttered in surprise as they grazed over black and white. "You dressed up." She lifted her hand, dragging her pointer down his silky tie.

"I did," he agreed with a proud grin. "I listen to what you say to me, you know. It's not just a big blur before kissing."

She turned red in his arms, pushing against his chest, remembering when she briefly mentioned the dance. She hadn't told him what time, though, so she was sure he'd done some minimal snooping.

Her heart lurched in her chest when she noticed an elf over Keefe's shoulder, who was staring their way. "Keefe," she warned, trying to wriggle out of his embrace. "Keefe, someone's looking."

"They're only going to notice I'm out of place if you make a scene." He erupted with laughter when she tried to struggle further. "Stop squirming. Hey. Hey, don't make me pin you down."

The way his voice dropped at the end made goosebumps prickle her skin. Surprise shot through her, and he noticed, eyes twinkling.

Sophie cleared her throat. "Fine," she squeaked. She pushed back out of his arms, smoothing down her dress, eyes scanning the room to make sure they hadn't been spotted. Her eyes roamed on Mr. Forkle and Edaline for a few seconds longer than necessary, and even though she should have been thankful that they weren't searching for her, yet, her stomach soured. They could be discussing anything.

Sophie turned back to Keefe, expecting to see his face serene and calm, but instead, he looked distant. His eyes were on her, but they looked glazed.

Alarm bolted through her. "Hey, are you okay?"

Keefe ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "You look beautiful," he muttered, and she could have sworn his gaze had darkened, pupils dilating.

For once, Sophie felt that way, too.  The compliment made her cheeks bloom with heat, however, and she wasn't sure how to respond, not wanting to come off conceited. She brushed her hands down the front of herself, smoothing the silky fabric, nodding. "Thank you," she whispered softly.

He approached her, and she wanted to scold him for breaking his own rule after a record two minutes of starving himself from her touch, but her breath hitched at the casual, long strides he took. His lips quirked into his infamous smirk, fingers lifting up to thumb the beads around her neck. "It seems you have good taste in accessories."

"It seems you have an inflated ego."

"Hmm." His fingers trailed up her neck, settling under her chin, and he used the leverage to tilt it upwards. "Just stating facts, love."

She blinked, cheeks erupting with the same shade as her dress. It seemed his unwarranted confidence was back and blazing, all signs of the dazed boy gone. "Love?"

"What, don't like it?"

"It's. . . new," she confessed slowly. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip, chewing softly, trying to get her damn blush to go down.

His grin was feral. "But you like it."

"Hush."

Keefe followed her eyes as she averted her gaze from his, staring out at the dance floor. She could feel his eyes burning against the side of her face, and she didn't want to look back, too unprepared to lock her sight on his curved smirk.

She stared at the purple lights turning the marble floor neon, resisting her urge to rip out an eyelash. She didn't know what else there was to say to Keefe, and she knew that if they slipped into a hallway, they'd end up tangled with one another all over again. Not that she was opposed to it in any way, but she knew that if she gave in, that would be how they spent their entire night.

She wanted to savour her time.

Sophie tensed when a hand laced with hers, and Keefe began dragging her forward. Sophie's brain switched to panic mode, blaring red sirens. "Keefe!" she squeaked, tugging backwards.

Keefe chuckled low, eyes shining under the lights. "Come on, Foster," he beckoned, persistently dragging her forward. She was trying to wrench her hand out of his as subtly as possible, but he held his grip, forcing her to stride forward in her heels. "Don't want to dance?"

"No, not really!" she wanted to yell. Instead, she settled with whisper-hissing, "Someone is going to see us!"

"No, they're not," Keefe assured steadily, and the way his voice had gone soft made her heart leap into her throat. "Just trust me. I have it worked out."

"Well, then. . . then. . ." Sophie nearly whimpered when he stopped, turning to face her before holding out his other hand for her to take. "Keefe I can't dance."

"Lies," he said simply. His hand snaked to her waist, tugging her forward. Her chest crashed into his and she violently sucked air in between her teeth, cringing, and Keefe laughed heartily, chest shaking her own. "Relax."

She was trying to. Oh, how she was trying to. But his rough hand was warm on her waist, holding her lithe frame pressed flush against his, and her one hand was on his shoulder, the other tangled with his and, oh, she was forgetting how to breathe. Oh, Eternalia, what was breathing, again? Why did it feel amazing to have his hand on her waist like that? Why was her heart shooting fireworks throughout her chest?

"Foster, that is not relaxing," Keefe tsked, smirking gently.

"I'm embarrassed!" she snapped defensively, blood rushing to her face when it dawned on her that she'd said it aloud. "Sorry, I. . . I just can't dance, Keefe. You of all people should know that."

Keefe shook his head. "That's not even close to true. I saw you with Valin that day in detention. Despite having to deal with a guy you hated, and don't even deny that you did because I could feel that, you did really well." When Sophie looked away, cheeks blooming with heat, Keefe squeezed her hand, saying, "I'm serious, Sophie."

He murmured it to her, and when he didn't prod again after a few seconds, Sophie had the courage to look him in the eyes. They were glittering with assurance and patience, so she knew without a doubt he was speaking the truth. She bit the inside of her cheek, dipping her chin into a nod. She prayed that her face wasn't as red as her dress.

"So, then, if you'd do me the honour. . ." He stepped forward with his right foot, and Sophie squeaked lightly taking a step back in turn. Keefe chuckled in amusement, pressing the side of his face against hers. Temple to temple, Keefe's lips tickled her ear, and she tried to control her breathing. She knew it was a weak attempt though because every part of her body was racing towards desires she knew she wasn't going to regret.

Sophie screwed her eyes shut as they began to move, ignoring Keefe's snickers and comments of 'You look like you're preparing for battle.' She tried to get used to the feel of how he moved, where he moved, and centre herself on getting used to the feel of swaying to the beat of the music. Halfway through the song, her eyes relaxed but remained closed, and she only opened them when Keefe whispered tiny praises to her.

She fluttered her eyes open to find him beaming. "What?"

"You're doing great," he repeated.

Raw heat bloomed on her cheeks.

Over time, Sophie learned that dancing really wasn't designed to kill her and that Keefe was a lot more understanding whenever she goofed up, than she would have anticipated. He kept his teasing to a record low (one, when she tripped and nearly brought both of them down in a giggling heap) clearly seeing how nerve-wracking the whole thing was for her.

He replaced his playful remarks with little praises, taking his time to remind her that she was doing wonderfully and he was genuinely proud of her.

Sophie knew he truly meant all of the sentiments he whispered to her, but she also didn't discount the fact that he was taking great pleasure in watching her face fill with the colour of a sunset. 

At one point she had to turn her head away from him, unable to meet his eyes. Her blush was a supernova, she knew by Keefe's snickers, so she had to look away in order to regain composure (if she miraculously managed to retain any).

She could hear him calling for her after a while, and she was strung from her braided thoughts. She blinked, daring a peek at him from the corner of her eye before swiftly focusing on the sidelines, where guests were chatting. She heard a soft sigh near her ear.

Suddenly Keefe brushed a thumb down over her wrist, and even though it was the tiniest action, her skin zinged at the contact. It elicited a gasp, causing her to de-lace their fingers and grab onto his shoulders.

Sophie's heart was battering wildly in her chest, and the smirk Keefe threw her was utterly intoxicating. All her blood was flooding down in her body, rushing through her veins in a dizzying ritual. Her knees nearly buckled when Keefe's hand roamed to the small of her back, holding her flush against him.

"Foster," Keefe whispered, laughing softly. She knew he could feel every one of her tiniest reactions to his touches, spanning from her burning cheeks to her wobbly knees and fumbling fingers, which were currently fisted into his shirt sleeves. She was sure he could feel the way her heart was trying to escape its cage, granted how their bodies were curving into one another.

"You're, like, really excited," he murmured, laughing again. That laugh. That damned laugh was going to crumble any resolve that she was still clinging to. She wanted to drown out any of his remarks with kisses, sink her teeth into his lips, find a way to get lost in how she started and he ended.

But there were so many eyes.

So, she focused on the hypnotic thump of the pulsing melody floating around them, vibrating through the crystal walls. She focused on the dim lighting and the fluorescents that were used to illuminate the dark space. The hazy purples and pinks that drifted over their bodies, making their blushing cheeks seem neon.

She knew she was glowing with want. He knew, too. It was there and no matter how hard she was trying to stay distracted, she continually stole a glance at his mouth, wondering what it would be like. The thrill of kissing him in the middle of a dance floor, bodies cradling each other, relying solely on luck that they won't be spotted in a game they're destined to lose.

When she met his line of sight, she figured he'd crack a grin and tease her about how she was practically limp in his arms, but instead, they were mirroring her own. Longing. That was what they were blazing with. This raw, untamed longing look that made her spine stiffen.

"Foster. . ." He swallowed thickly, hand shaking on the small of her back. "Can I kiss you?"

God, I thought you'd never ask.

Even in her heels, Sophie has to rise on her tiptoes ever so slightly in order to reach the sanctuary of his mouth. The moment their lips touched, Sophie made a soft sigh, muffled by his mouth moving slowly against hers. Her eyes were screwed shut in pure delight, a zing of excitement racing through her bones.

Keefe's kisses were normally fierce and bruising, and Sophie enjoyed it that way, but this time he was more leisure, taking his time to drink her in. She felt her pulse race impossibly fast at the gentle way he had her body in his arms, letting her melt and mold into the shape of him.

Keefe smiled against her lips before dragging her closer, which she hadn't thought possible, kissing her more firmly. She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck as she pushed up farther on her tiptoes.

Keefe laughed at her enthusiasm, breaking the kiss for a second before tilting his head to give her more access, capturing her lips again. 

Magic existed, she decided. This was magic, and it was real. It wasn't some silly idea given to amuse children. No, this was here, and she'd caught it in her arms and locked it away in her heart. This was hers to treasure every day, and bring back to life every time she got the chance to steal time away with her lover.

Lover. The word itself felt exciting to think about. It was something so powerful, yet so fragile. She couldn't control whether or not she got to keep this magic. This lover.

Sophie's eyes fluttered open when Keefe broke the kiss. Dismay washed over her but was quickly replaced with shock as she met his hooded gaze on his way down as he stooped to her jawline.

He took his time to pepper kisses to her jawline, swooping up to catch the corner of her mouth, straight back to capturing her lips in feathery kiss. His mouth traveled to the shell and lobe of her ear, which he nipped at and pressed small kisses to. Leisurely, his mouth migrated down to her neck. 

He pressed languid, wet kisses down the column of her neck, sucking and nipping and causing her eyelids to flutter closed. Sophie screwed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip as she melted at his touch, trembling when he sank his teeth into a sensitive spot, sucking the flesh in between his teeth.

She couldn't contain the soft whine that escaped, body burning with heat.

Keefe released her, peppering soft kisses over the numbing spot, relishing the gasp that tore through her chest after his tongue flicked out, cooling the tender skin.

"Sophie, you're shivering," Keefe whispered, kissing his way back up her throat. Sophie made a soft sound in response, grasping the sleeves of his shirt in her fists, struggling to keep her mind aware while his hands gripped her waist. The world was blotting away, everything zoning into the places where his lips grazed and his teeth nibbled.

It was alien, how he could kiss her so fiercely but restrain himself all the while, being respectful with where he allowed his hands to roam. She felt secure.

Keefe planted steady, comforting kisses onto her jaw, and Sophie squirmed in his arms when he pressed his lips against a sensitive spot near her ear. Keefe chuckled low, air tickling that spot again, and she craned her neck around, slotting their mouths together for the millionth time.

 A jolt ran down her spine when Keefe's hand slid to the back of her neck, keeping their lips connected. Sophie made a soft, strangled sound into his mouth when the hand on her back snaked fully around her waist, supporting her.

Her brain was tingling with electricity, fire sparking when she felt his tongue slide across her lower lip. A groan escaped when he sank his teeth in to follow, and she allowed one more mind-numbing kiss before she squeezed his shoulders, alerting him. The hand behind her neck instantly loosened, allowing her the space to pull back, and she was reminded again how caring he was with her.

"Keefe," she whispered, breathless. This boy, this boy made her drunk, she knew. All her thoughts were muddled every time he returned to her with his smile, the blue fire of his eyes, his kisses. She couldn't so much as breathe in his intoxicating scent without having some part of her face go numb. His mouth sinking into hers, though, that was otherworldly. Her stomach was so fizzly it felt sick, and she was sure she accidentally made a whimper a few seconds ago, with the way Keefe's mouth was curving upwards against hers.

How had someone not seen them, yet? Surely someone was going to notice the two elves on the dancefloor hopelessly entangled in one another's arms. Surely they were a witness to their frantic kissing, their laboured breathing, the magic sparkling between them.

Sophie had to push her hand on his chest to get him to stop. Briefly, she regretted that decision, missing his mouth more than she'd ever admit. But she knew this was horrifyingly risky. "Keefe, we're going to get caught. I don't understand how we haven't been noticed already, as it is."

Keefe smiled, taking his hand off her neck, reaching to brush his thumb to her cheek in the process (thankfully he left his other hand on her waist). Cool air replaced it, and Sophie frowned, disappointment rushing through her veins, but then she watched as he reached back and swished aside his suit jacket. She noticed the bulge of his pocket, then, eyebrows furrowing. "I can tell you no one's seen us yet for a very specific reason."

His voice seemed proud, so Sophie lifted an eyebrow in question at him, studying the way the corner of his mouth twitched. Sophie reached forward slowly, eyeing him as if to ask if she could take it out, and when she saw no warning signs, she slipped her hand into his pocket. Her hand touched a cool, metal object.

Sophie pursed her lips as she pulled it out, looking at the small black orb in her palm. "An Obscurer?"

"No one can see us," he assured, two hands planted on her waist.

Sophie swirled it between her two fingers as they playfully swayed from side to side, managing to giggle. "You're such a dork. Edaline's going to have a panic attack if she notices I'm gone."

"Fork Man will tear apart the fucking Peace Summit."

Sophie snorted, bursting into a fit of giggles. He joined her, an infectious smile beaming on her face. When their laughter began to fade, Sophie could see that longing sparking in his eyes again, and it made butterflies swim in her stomach. Before he could lean to kiss her, she reached into his pocket again, eyes catching the still-noticeable bulge. "And what's this, then? Did you bring—"

"Wait, Foster—"

Sophie didn't understand his sudden panic, so the grin was still stretching her lips playfully as she slid the object out into her hand. She couldn't seem to get why he looked so bashful, even ashamed until she noticed the glass in her hands.

Her stomach dropped, a sickening feeling swimming through it. The acidic taste of bile coated her tongue as she stared at the metallic liquid sloshing inside the vial. "Keefe. . ."

Dark flashes of a cold cave floor scraped across her brain, following with the feeling of her throat constricting, swelling to the point where she couldn't breathe. She forgot what air felt like, and her arms puckered with hives that itched so terribly she wanted to scratch them until they burst and bled.

It isn't that, her brain screamed. It isn't that.

 Still, no matter how much convincing she did, there were those phantom pains, and she couldn't shake the feeling of want, maybe even of need, to scratch at her throat and arms. She clawed for the allergy remedy necklace, which wasn't there. 

When she looked to Keefe, she waited to see him ready to give her some explanation. He looked just as stricken as she was, though.

"Sophie, careful," he begged, reaching to steal it from her grasp. She recoiled, holding it behind her, out of his reach.

"Keefe, what is this?" she asked, appalled. Her eyes had widened, and her hand was shaky.

His face sheepishly flushed with pink. "It's not what you think, Foster, but please be careful. I don't want you to accidentally unscrew the cap and have it spi—"

"Why do you have limbium?" Her voice was shaking, fist closed around the bottle as she forced it under her nose.

He stared at it, Adam's apple bobbing. Sophie didn't have to be an Empath to know that he was nervous. Suddenly, his eyes shot open in dawning. "Oh, no. Foster, no. You don't — You don't think I'd use that on you. I would never deliberately hurt you."

"Then why the hell do you have this on your body? Why do you have this here, especially when you were so close to me. . ."

Her limbs were growing numb and limp. 

Keefe stepped forward the moment he saw the colour drain from her face. "Foster, you're like, really pale—"

"Don't touch me!"

Sophie scrambled back, putting a few feet between them. She needed to be able to breathe, needed to stay away from him for the time being. Her hand shot out when he tried to take another step forward.

"Foster, you can't get too far away from me or the obscurer won't work, and it'll look pretty damn weird if you reappear in the middle of the dance floor."

"Keefe," Sophie cried, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "Why do you have this?"

Keefe opened his mouth, but quickly shut it after seeing the desperate look in his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, screwing his eyes shut and sighing heavily. He scuffed the floor with the tip of his boot before opening his eyes. "I'd never. . . I want you to know I'd never have done it, but I. . . I was supposed to. . ."

His eyes flickered up to hers. Her stomach caved in.

"That was for me," she finished in a whisper. Her hand was shaky, limbium sloshing around. "This was for me."

"I was supposed to put it in your food," he agreed, voice cracking. "Not enough to do anything fatal, but just to. . ."

"Just because you could," she whispered when he didn't finish. Her voice wobbled, hushed. Broken. "Just for shock factor."

Keefe sucked in a shaky breath when a tear slipped down her pink-tinted, alabaster cheek. "Foster, I wasn't ever going to do it. I just had to come here, anyway. And I-I wanted to see you again because I knew that if I didn't go through with it tonight, they wouldn't let me out again for a long time, so I wouldn't be able to see you next month—"

"I need you to leave."

Keefe's mouth slammed shut. He blinked steadily. "Foster—"

"I said leave!" she screamed, choking on a sob. She didn't care if she was out of the range of the obscurer. Throw caution to the wind, she decided, because she didn't mind if everyone witnessed it. Let him be caught. Let the guests stare. Let Mr. Forkle barrage her with questions.

Sophie couldn't tell if he wanted to argue. Her eyes were blurred over with tears, so she was unable to see his reaction. Finally, she watched as he backed away agonizingly slow. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone in the middle of the dance floor.

○

She was angry. She knew that for sure. She felt betrayed again.

For some unknown reason, however, she wasn't scared of him. Or the thought of him, now, at least, given that she probably wasn't going to see him again. She didn't want to see him ever again.

Kind of.

It was all so complicated that she'd developed a throbbing headache from dwelling over it so much, trying to sort out what she was feeling and ultimately trying to purge it from her system.

Edaline and Grady had thankfully left her alone, for the most part. They still checked in every so often, asking her how she was, if she needed or wanted anything, reminding her they were always there to talk. She stayed in her room, though, intent on locking herself away until she could properly function again and engage in social interactions. 

Really, she saw no other option. What could she do otherwise? Tell them about her two secret years with Keefe? That would lead to her getting drilled by Mr. Forkle and the Collective — maybe even the Council — not to mention her friends and family. Plus, she had to begrudgingly admit she wanted those memories to herself.

Sophie had successfully hidden away in her bedroom for two days before she heard a knock at her door. Two days of blissful silence, all catered to herself, and then that had to rupture her peace.

Her heart had sunk to her knees, knowing Grady and Edaline wanted to talk it through with her, because she was sure they felt helpless and concerned. She braced herself for parents, or even five bodyguards, so she was knocked back a step when her eyes struck periwinkle and teal pairs.

"Dex?" Her mouth ran dry. "Biana?"

Dex shot her a sheepish smile, hands shoved in his pockets. Biana's was bittersweet, laced with worry. "Hey, Sophie," she greeted gently.

"Hi. Did Grady and Edaline invite you over?" She wouldn't be surprised if they had. It was admirable how well her parents knew her, that they could manage to give her space and only send friends after her if they saw she truly needed someone.

Biana's smile flickered away in hesitance, and Sophie's head snapped like a rubber band, scolding herself for the choice of words. "Not that you can't just come over here. I like seeing you, I was just. . ." She choked. "Sorry, I was in the middle of something."

Biana quirked an elegantly arched eyebrow, whereas Dex peered over her shoulder. Her cheeks blazed red, knowing full well there was no sign of her doing anything because she hadn't been in the middle of something. Unless sulking and staring dramatically out her window counted.

She stepped back from the door, walking over to her bed and sitting on the edge, inviting both of them to make themselves comfortable. Dex and Biana shared a look before they followed, Dex taking a detour to Iggy's cage to take the tiny imp out before he plopped down on the flowered carpet. He faced Sophie as he scratched Iggy under his chin, grinning at the crackly purr he made.

Biana sat next to her, folding her hands in her lap.

Sophie rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Um, so, why'd you come over? Right now, I mean?"

Biana looked over to Dex, giving him a look as he played with Iggy. Dex's smile fell when he met her eyes, mouthing a silent, incredulous, 'Me?. Biana nodded, nudging her chin in Sophie's direction and Dex blew out a nervous breath, ruffling Iggy's fur. He dared to look Sophie in the eyes.

"We noticed you weren't. . . feeling well."

Sophie blinked, glancing between the two of them. "Feeling well?" she repeated.

Dex bobbed his head, scratching behind Iggy's tiny ears before setting him off to his side of the flower carpet. If Iggy could angle his eyebrows, he would have. He skittered off, batting around a few petals as Dex turned to focus on Sophie. "You haven't talked to anyone for half the week. You haven't come out of your room, in, what, two days?"

"I've hidden away longer than that," Sophie defended, and given by the look Dex shot Sophie, she knew that hadn't been her best argument. Sophie sighed dramatically. 'Okay, whatever. Yeah, I have. Point is: I'm fine."

Biana look shifted from worry to sympathy, and it reminded Sophie way too much of Edaline. "We aren't attacking you, Sophie," she promised. "Dex and I are. . . concerned, is all. You've been acting differently after that summit."

"Did one of the leaders speak to you?" Dex prodded. "Did Dimitar say something about you during the proceedings?"

"What? No," Sophie argued, voice going hard. She regretted the tone when she looked at their faces, sighing. "I'm sorry. I. . ."

Dex gave her a prodding look when she fell silent. She chewed on her lower lip, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. "I can't tell you, is all."

"You can always tell us, actually," Dex reminded. "You just. . . don't seem to want to."

Sophie's body overflooded with guilt like a champagne glass filled to the brim. "I don't mean it like that," she mumbled. She blew out a steady, long breath, burying her hands in her face for a second. When she came back up for air, she inspected her two friends, trying to waver whether or not letting it all go was really a good idea. 

After a few seconds, she had to watch Dex's face fall, and that was what sealed the decision.

With a groan, she blurted, "I've been meeting with Keefe."

Dex's eyes flew open, and Biana's jaw dropped.

"F-For two years," she continued, trying to bottle up the fear that they were going to run to someone with the information the second they got the chance. "We. . ."

She grumbled to herself, inhaling and exhaling lazily, steadying her spiked nerves. "We were. . . kind of. . ."

She had never understood how difficult words could be until then. No matter how she rearranged them in her brain, they were all mildly embarrassing to admit, and it felt personal.

Thankfully, Biana had clamped her jaw shut, and Dex's eyes had returned to their regular size. Dex cleared his throat. "You weren't. . .  working with him, were you?"

"What?" Sophie asked, too quickly. "No. No, it wasn't anything like that. I was meeting him every month, for. . . Because. . . Well. . ."

Now it was all sounding like a bad idea to Sophie. She couldn't even find the proper words to admit what she wanted to lay out on the table. They weren't dating, but they weren't friends. They weren't enemies, either, but they also were in technicality. 

"We meet every month. We have been, for the last two years." Sophie stared at her hands in her lap. "It started because. . . I kissed him."

From there, it all started pouring out. The late-night check-ins, the secret meetings, the whispered attempts at flirting, drowned out by their nonsense kisses.

Sophie knew it was such a small thing in comparison to everything else she'd experienced, yet she couldn't stop a burning ache from filling the cavity of her chest.  All of her insecurities and anxieties were expelled out of her harder than the flood at Ravagog, and she felt ashamed for dumping it all on her two friends. 

When she finished she had slumped over, resting her face in her hands. She wasn't crying, which wasn't a surprise -- she knew she'd tuckered herself out with crying the night she'd arrived back at Havenfield. (It had been so strenuous with trying to hold back tears during the summit; especially during the nights, when she slept so close to Edaline).

Biana was circling her nails on Sophie's back, and every time they grazed over her spine Sophie experienced a tingle. She let it remind herself this was something she'd surely laugh about when she was older. How she thought she was going to die because she had a fight with a boy.

Then again, this wasn't just a boy. This was Keefe. She'd lost Keefe.

"He was going to use limbium on you?" Dex murmured, and when she lifted her head out of her hands, Dex was lost with a dazed look, face pale.

"I don't know," Sophie mumbled. She wanted to say no. She did. In all the time she'd known Keefe, he'd always centred her, and had put her needs and wants above his own.

A spell of silence settled over the three, occasionally broken by the mini growls Iggy made as he battled with the petal of Sophie's carpet. Eventually, Biana cleared her throat and stood up, marching in front of Sophie and holding out her hand with determination. Sophie opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, and Dex looked equally confused as he peeked out at Sophie from behind Biana's form.

Biana interrupted her, declaring, "We're going to forget about him. He's an ass."

Sophie blinked as Biana waved her hand under her nose, insisting. "I really don't think I can just forget—"

"Sophie Foster, take my fucking hand. You are not going to let a boy overrun your thoughts."

Dex's only response was a shrug and smile, so Sophie swallowed her doubts like a pill and took her outstretched hand.

For the next few hours, they tried multiple things to get her out of her funk. None of them, however, seemed to really work. Sophie had become desperate, because eventually they moved from dying Iggy and listening to music on her iPod, to activities Sophie normally strayed from, including looking through her scrapbook and allowing Biana to fiddle with her hair.

Sophie flipped a page in the scrapbook, observing the laminated photos with some droopy gaze as Biana combed her fingers through her platinum hair. She knew Dex and Biana were continually exchanging worried glances because every so often she'd glance up to find Dex leaning against her headboard, eyes shot over her head as he mouthed quiet concerns.

She tried to focus on the tickling sensation of Biana's fingers running across her scalp, or the swelling feeling in her chest whenever she'd catch Amy's smile in a photo, but then it'd all come crashing down again when her brain would flash to a bottle of limbium.

She reached up and gripped the cord around her neck, feeling the bottle of her allergy remedy dangling against her collarbone. She'd dug it out of her nightstand ever since that night, keeping it close to her heart, squeezing it whenever she thought of that stricken look on his face as she removed the bottle from his pocket. It was a false sense of security.

A part of her felt ashamed for stringing it back on her body. Keefe wouldn't hurt her deliberately. Especially not so fatally, like that. But it still made her stomach feel uneasy, knowing he'd been carrying that around in his pocket. Surely he could have found a time to drop it in a nearby trashcan before he'd gotten so close to her.

"Sophie?"

Sophie perked up at her name, peeking over her shoulder at Biana. "Hm?"

"I know this is probably the last thing you'd want to do right now, but I'm giving it a shot. . . Can I dress you up?" Sophie opened her mouth to reply, and Biana swiftly added, "I know this is going to sound conceited, but. . . It feels good to, well, feel pretty. Feeling good about yourself when you're sad is actually a really great feeling. And I know you don't usually experience that type of. . .  Appreciation for yourself, unless you've put time into your appearance, so. . ."

 When a line creased in Sophie's forehead as she thought, Biana jumped to say, "Sorry, that was really poorly explained—"

"No, no," Sophie assured. "I. . . I get it." To show she meant it she pulled the best smile she could muster, outstretching her hand to Biana. Biana looked at it for a second, then allowed her face to crack into a sad smile, intertwining their fingers.

Since the activity had never been Sophie's favourite, it wasn't the best remedy. However, she also couldn't deny that she'd had fun during it.

Dex constantly distracted her with jokes, Iggy alternated between sitting her lap while Biana did her hair, or knocking off all the vials from her dresser whenever Biana reached for one. 

They chattered and laughed the afternoon away, Sophie not even (fully) minding having Biana smear red over her lips or brush soft shades over her eyelids and cheekbones.

Sophie wasn't excited to get into a dress, but Bian insisted, saying they could all goof around, and she could take it off whenever. Sophie put it on without any fuss, fand her anticipations about it were wrong.

She'd been expecting to feel like a disco ball and look stupid when coming out of that bathroom, but she caught herself in the mirror before leaving. She couldn't think her way around the thought that crept into her mind, couldn't escape the way she felt in that moment.

I look pretty. And, god, Biana was right. It felt amazing to feel good about yourself when you were sad.

So, for another hour, she sat contently in her dress, playing Cards Against Humanity with Dex and Biana (completely disregarding the fact that it would have worked much better with a fourth person). 

She'd been in the middle of drawing a white card for the round, Dex teasingly telling the two girls to not disappoint him with their choices, when she caught a flash of light out of the corner of her. Sophie hadn't been the only one to see it, because Dex turned to look out the window with her, eyebrows meeting.

The sky was gloomy enough that they supposed it could have been lightning, but when no crack resounded, Sophie decided she was going to take a look. She nearly tripped on the way over to the window, which Dex barraged her about. She'd been halfway through rolling her eyes when she caught a familiar figure in the pastures.

Her heart stopped.

She could hear Biana talking to her from behind, and then the bed creaked, and both of her friends flanked her sides. Biana's jaw hung open. "What the fuck? Really?"

Yes, really. Keefe had light-leapt onto the property, Neverseen cloak and all.

"I'm going to murder him if he thinks he can just waltz back onto your property after that and—"

Biana was already storming towards the door to the hallway, shoulders set back and squared for battle when Sophie noticed a burly, seven-foot figure stalking towards Keefe. "Hang on!" she beckoned to Biana, and when she turned back around to argue, Dex and Sophie waved her over to the window again.

Biana's perfect nose scrunched. "Is that Sandor?"

"He's really chewing Keefe out," Dex observed with a light laugh, and Sophie had to agree. Even from the window, she could see his blurry fists waving. She assumed Sandor now knew why she'd been in a funk, especially when Keefe started talking, clearly explaining things.

She sighed as Biana muttered colourful threats. "I'll go take care of him."

She swished the skirts of her dress to the side, ensuring she wouldn't trip on them as she began making her way downstairs. "You guys stay there!" she called back, knowing they were going to fight to come along with her. This was her battle, though.

The moment her heels hit the bottom floor she booked it to the front door, swinging it open and bolting outside. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her down the path to the cliffside pasture, dodging tiny, skittering animals and piles of various foods.

Her breath hitched when she got close enough to hear Sandor barking at Keefe.

"You are not allowed anywhere near Miss Foster. You haven't been for a while."

His voice was nasally as he growled, but Keefe didn't pop a joke as she'd expected. "I know, Sandor. I'm sorry. But like I already admitted, I've been seeing her for years now. I need to talk to her, please. I don't have a lot of time."

So he did confess everything.

She couldn't help but think that was brave, and a little un-Keefe like, to upfront admit everything so quickly. She'd only seen him light-leap onto the property a few minutes ago, plus however long it had taken her to run there, so he clearly hadn't fought to keep it hidden.

"Keefe?"

Keefe's head peeked around Sandor's burly body, and they widened when they landed on her. "Foster," he said in soft amusement.

Sandor turned around, face distorted in anger. "You've been meeting with him?"

Her face flooded with a rush of blood. She nodded meekly, unable to form words. She really hoped Keefe hadn't said anything about the kissing. "Yes," she choked.

Sandor growled low, and Sophie wanted to offer an apology, but she was trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Keefe, who was equally as desperate to gain her attention. Sophie's eyebrows furrowed when she noticed a cardboard box in his arms, and she darted her gaze away when Keefe noticed her eyes lingering on it.

She cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she met Sandor's eyes. "I can handle him."

Sandor gave her a prodding look, silently asking if she was really okay, and when she gave a series of nods, he dipped his chin before stalking off. Sophie followed his form, only turning back to Keefe when she deemed him far away enough.

She eyed his box suspiciously before she picked up the skirt of her dress, making her way towards Calla's panakes. Keefe's eyes widened in understanding as she brushed past him, turning to follow her. He kept his distance, always remaining a few feet behind her.

She stopped near a fallen log by Calla's tree, in a perfect spot where she could peer over the edge of the cliff if she rose on her tippy-toes, and where she could look to her left at that magnificent tree with ease.

She heard Keefe's feet stop swishing in the grass behind her, indicating that he'd halted.

"Foster."

Her shoulders stiffened lightly, but she turned, letting her eyes fall on him.

"You look. . ." He cleared his throat, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as his eyes trailed up and down her form leisurely. He took his time, as if he owned the concept itself, memorizing every detail of her like he wanted to retain it to memory. "Foster, you look really beautiful. Like, you always look gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but I. . . I, um. . ."

There had been so few times of witnessing Keefe at a loss for words that it made Sophie's core stiffen and her heart batter in her chest. It picked up an extra notch that she hadn't thought possible when he asked, "May I ask why you're so dressy?"

Her eyelashes fluttered in surprise. She folded her hands. "Well, Dex and Biana stopped over. They tried a lot of things with me, but this just so happens to be the one thing that stuck — for now." When Keefe rose an eyebrow to indicate he wasn't quite understanding, Sophie bluntly clarified, "Finding a cure for heartbreak isn't that easy. You'll do anything to take your mind off it." She lifted the skirt of her dress as proof, her leg slipping through the slit in the side. "Including enduring an activity you absolutely despise."

She could practically see Keefe's heart plop onto the grassy knolls. But she didn't want his pity.

Sophie nonchalantly brushed her fingers through a few of the curls framed around her face, allowing them to swish and bounce around her shoulders. She delicately picked up the side of her dress, tossing the skirt off the side as she sat down on a nearby log, overlooking the sparkling waves. She could smell the salt from the ocean, even from high up on the cliffs.

She brushed down the silky fabric, hands catching on the rough sequins and glittering diamonds sewn into the skirt and bodice that clung to her form. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked firmly, not caring to look back at him.

Sophie could hear his swallow from behind her. "I, uh. . . I wanted to give something to you."

Whatever was in that box he had been holding, no doubt.

Curiosity got the best of her and she stole a glance back after seconds of internal debating. She noticed how his grip had stiffed, knuckles white. She caught Sandor staring from a distance behind Keefe. "So, you told Sandor everything?" she grilled, not sure she was ready to find out what was in that box.

Keefe sheepishly tightened his hold on the box, readjusting it so that it was more comfortable for him to hold. "Yeah. And he yelled at me. For, for a lot of things, I mean." He held her eyes for a second longer than necessary, ensuring she knew what he was referring to. A silent apology. "But he did promise to keep watch until I had light-leapt away, so."

"Good. That means if you try anything I can tell him to drag you off the property."

Keefe flinched lightly like she'd swung her fist at him. She knew she was acting horribly towards him, by snapping and giving him little to no chance, but she couldn't find it in her to care. There was this tugging inside her that told her to stay solid as stone, to bark at him and order him to leave. And then there was that other dumb-as-a-rock piece of her that felt terrible for her words and actions whenever she'd look into his eyes and see that raw pain.

And he wasn't doing anything to stop her from saying all of it. He was taking it like a helpless pinata dangling from a string. Meanwhile, she was the blindfolded toddler aimlessly swinging in the dark, not fully realizing how much damage she was causing with every punch she threw.

She sighed, shaking her head. She stole another look out at the waves, taking a deep breath in through her nostrils. The salty scent cleared her head, and it gave her the courage to look back at him again and offer, "Tell me about what's in the box."

He opened his mouth as if he was surprised but quickly clamped it shut. He stole a swift glance down at the box in his arms before he nodded. "But, um, could you stand up? And come over here?"

"Keefe—"

"It's not a bomb, Foster." There was a familiar twitch that returned to his lips, and Sophie's traitorous heart fluttered.

But she scoffed, just praying that he hadn't felt it as she rose up from her spot and stepped in front of him. She crossed her arms, giving him a prodding look.

"Okay, uh, I know this probably isn't going to convince you to take this, but I'm going to say it anyway because you look like you're about to use a goblin throwing star on me if I don't get on with it." Sophie rolled her eyes as he continued, "Alvar and I found him when Fintan sent us to the Forbidden Cities on this. . . Mission." He cleared his throat as Sophie's eyebrows gradually furrowed. "We took him back with us, and we've had him ever since. Fintan didn't like him originally, but then he super grew attached annnnd you really hate talking about this, don't you? I'm going to shut up."

Sophie rolled her eyes as he clenched his jaw. "I never said I hated—"

Keefe pointed to her narrowed eyes and the deep valley indented between her pressed brows. Sophie sighed, crossing her arms. She took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, rubbing the crease between her brows until it dissolved. "Okay, there, I'm calm. What do you mean he?"

Keefe blinked for a second before outstretching the box, holding it out to her. She snorted but took the box. She felt it weigh in her arms — lighter than anticipated, though there was still some weight to it — and her eyebrows shot up as scratching resounded from inside. The muscles in her arms tightened. "Keefe, what the fuck—"

"It's fine!" he promised quickly, holding his hands up as he sensed her growing panic. He stepped forward, taking the two flaps of the box in his hands. He opened them for her, holding her eyes the entire time as if to signal that everything was going to be okay.

A tiny yelp resounded as the two flaps were pulled to the side, and Sophie's mouth became a dry valley. When she peered down into the box, she expected to seem some mutant beast, with scraggly limbs like a spider or beady eyes like a frog, but instead, they settled on a ball of pure white fur. She rose an eyebrow as it moved, and she observed the tiny paws and swishing bob of a tail.

"You. . . You came here to give me a dog?"

The ball of fur yapped in response, and Sophie carefully lowered the cardboard box to the ground. Cautiously she settled her hands around the dog, fingers smushing into the fluffy mass of its coat. She scooped it up, taking a moment to admire its adorable face. Big eyes, pretty pink nose, adorable lapping tongue.

Sophie leaned it against her chest, relishing the fuzzy feel of its fur against her skin, and the equally fuzzy feeling it placed inside of her. Warm and swelling was that feeling — and it was pure happiness, she knew, which was something she hadn't felt in a while. A smile spread on her face as the dog stilled, relaxing against her hand that had arrived to caress him.

Keefe ran a hand through his hair, bobbing his head lightly. His eyes were glued to the bundle of fluff in her arms. "Yeah," he answered, mouth dry. "His name is Lodie."

"Lodie?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Lodie, like, uh. . ." He cleared his throat. "Like Lodestar."

Her mouth soured, but she nodded. "I see." She combed her fingers through Lodie's fluffy white fur, parting it like waves of silk before brushing back over it and making it smooth again. She kept gazing down at the dog, purposely avoiding looking at Keefe. She was swaying her body softly, rocking her and the dog back and forth, murmuring tiny things to it.

Keefe finally opened his mouth again to speak, but Sophie interrupted him before he got the chance, asking, "Why did you bring him to me?"

She flashed her eyes up to meet his after planting a soft kiss to the top of the dog's head, and Keefe twined his fingers together. She had never seen him do it before, so watching the nervous action made her stomach feel uneasy. "I wanted him to have a good home," he said honestly. "And I know you guys — you're good with animals. Obviously. I just. . . I knew he'd be better off here than anywhere." He paused for a second. "I also wanted to piss Fintan off."

Sophie snorted against her will, a small fissure breaking in her firm facade. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at him, and for some reason, she didn't have the stomach to fight it. Why couldn't staying angry at him be easy?

She held his eyes, then, determined to find something in there that could allow her to trust him fully again. Something that would make her feel sound in his arms, give her some brittle sense of security. She didn't just want those kisses back — she wanted him. And she was tired of this battle.

Keefe didn't waver his eyes away from hers, even though he was wringing his hands so tightly that his knuckles were turning as white as Lodie's pure fur. Sophie glanced down at the dog again, who was panting in her arms, and she smiled softly before lowering him down to the ground. The moment his paws touched the grass he squirmed out of her arms and started running around, yipping and jumping.

Keefe smiled, but it dissolved when he met her line of sight again. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He sheepishly looked at the ground and kicked a certain tuff of grass. "Well, uh, I think I should get going before Fintan notices I'm gone and—"

He turned swiftly, reply drowned out by the breeze. Sophie chewed on her lower lip, staring as his hand dug into his pocket for a crystal, and the moment that it peeked out of the fabric, her legs were carrying her forward. She didn't know why — it was so stupid. She knew that. This feeling was stupid; the one that she couldn't shake from her ribcage, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn't going to go away.

"Keefe, wait."

The burning in her lungs relaxed when he stopped without hesitation, turning around to face her. "Yeah, Foster?"

"I. . ." She closed her eyes, breathing in the wafting scent of the panake's perfume Biana had spritzed onto her form and in her hair. Her eyes opened. "I'm angry at you."

Keefe's eyebrows puckered. "Yeah, I know, F—"

"But I can't let you go."

Keefe grew silent. And he remained silent as she approached him, maintaining eye contact with every step forward she took.

"So. . . Make me."

Keefe blinked, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "What?"

"Make me," she ordered. "Make me let you go. Make me forget you."

She could see the horror in his eyes, and imagine the queasiness in his stomach. He looked pained to hear those words, and Sophie couldn't blame him for that reaction, because she'd felt sick having to even offer it. If Keefe took it, she didn't know what she was going to do.

A second passed and she watched as a gust of wind blew a tiny curl on his forehead. She tucked a flying strand of hair behind her own ear, and he watched the motion with a sad glint in his eyes.

When he finally locked eyes with her, holding her gaze, she panicked. He truly looked finished. Don't do it. Don't do it. Oh, don't actually leave.

She started to panic, wishing she could take back the dumb challenge, but then that glint in his eyes snapped as hard as iron, strong and unyielding determination glimmering. All breath left her lungs as he closed the distance between them, his hand finding the familiar groove behind her neck, pulling her in.

All of her pent-up anger fizzled away in a flash of lightning as their mouths connected in what felt like the first time in a thousand years. She never truly realized how deprived she constantly felt of him, not recognizing the hunger that lingered in her veins.

Sophie met his movements with enthusiasm, cupping his jaw and sinking into the arms he'd snaked around her waist.

Fuck, this was not what she'd planned. She was supposed to be angry at him. Fuming, even. Instead, there were butterflies rummaging through her stomach like a nightstand drawer.

Sophie had the feeling they were going slow. Slower than they usually did, at any rate. As if his mouth was working to reach some secret sweet spot that could only be found with time. It made Sophie's eyelids droopy.

She decided she could drown in these kisses, let the sunshine of his mouth slotted against hers drizzle into her lungs, fill the caverns with that glowing feeling, let it rake through her veins and burn as hot as embers.

These were no doubt different than the other kisses they'd shared — slower, softer, more earnest. Like he wanted to take his dear time with colliding with her. They were mind-numbing presses, gentle and yet fiery, a tingling feeling coiling low in her stomach.

This. This was heaven. She felt more secure and cared for than she ever had.

Sophie found herself crying through the electrifying kisses, suddenly, and when Keefe pulled back to check that she was okay, she found herself blubbering out laughter through the tears. She ran her thumb across his lips, hating the disgusting sobs that she couldn't stop — not even with her half-hearted laughter. "You have red lipstick on you, now."

Keefe smiled softly as he cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the tears as they spilt down her cheeks. "Mm," he mumbled as she continued to smear it away. "Thanks for the present, Foster."

He leaned down, slotting their mouths together again and Sophie whimpered despite herself. She allowed a few blissful seconds to tick by before pulling back, shuddering.

"You'd never hurt me, right?"

She didn't need to read Keefe's mind to know he had flashed back to the dance floor. "Never," he assured immediately. "I promise."

She nodded, leaned forward, and planted another kiss on his mouth before pulling back.

"You'd always protect me?"

"Always."

It was his turn to return his mouth to their destination, that time. Sophie had to get a grip on herself to not get too lost in the moment, even as they kissed and kissed and broke apart and returned to one another like magnets.

In between the kisses she found the time to mutter, "So, come back," onto his lips.

His kisses stopped, even though her mouth still moved against his. She noticed it, and quickly pulled back, meeting his eyes. "Come back?" he repeated.

"Because you're hurting me," she admitted with a dip of her chin. "You're hurting me by being away. So if you'd really do all of that for me, Keefe, I need you to come back. Come back and protect me."

Keefe swallowed hard, eyes stinging with tears. The reaction was instant, his eyes welling as fast as Sophie's drowning emotions that were caving in her lungs. "Sophie," he croaked.

"Come back," she beckoned again, "or I'll never kiss you again. I won't talk to you. I won't see you. But. . . I will fight you. And I won't deny that you're my enemy any longer. Come back, or. . . I'm gone."

Her chin wobbled as she said it, voice growing increasingly thick as she looked up at him. Her hand had migrated to his chest, pressed over his heart which was thumping erratically. He stared down at her, opening and closing and reopening his mouth repeatedly, trying to form the words.

"Sophie. . ."

He looked away. She could see how he was growing distant again.

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "You're hurting me," she whispered.

Keefe squeezed his eyes shut and nodded like the words brought him physical pain. "I know," he agreed shakily, turning back to her. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, taking the time to tuck stray strands of hair behind her ears. "I can feel it. I. . . Sophie. . ."

"You're not protecting me," she croaked. "You're hurting me."

"Foster, I-I can't just leave. I'm not who you think I am, okay? I can't be a hero like you, because—"

"You're my hero," she argued, chin wobbling. She blinked softly, a tear cascading down her cheek. "You have been for a long time. Why don't you see that?"

Keefe swallowed the lump in his throat as he wiped the tear from her face. "I never wanted to hurt you, Foster," he mumbled miserably, shaking his head. "I just. . . My mom. . ." His voice cracked.

"Is an asshole," Sophie finished in a whisper. Keefe cracked a smile, some bubbly laugh erupting through the pain of his tightened chest and burning lungs. It didn't flicker away as he gazed down at her, caressing her cheeks. Something warm filled her at that twinkle in his eyes because she didn't need to be an Empath to realize he was adoring her, in some small way. And that meant the world to her.

She took a deep breath. "I know your perspective has changed drastically over these past two years, Keefe. I know that. But this. . . is the last chance I'll ever give you. I won't bother you with this ever again. No one will." She met his eyes, waiting for him to nod. "I have so much faith in you, Keefe, but after this, you won't be given another option." It came out more hushed than intended.

Keefe bobbed his head again, showing he (miserably) understood. "I. . ." He cleared his throat, changing his answer. "You'd. . . Take me back? After everything?"

"I know. I've given you way too many chances." She laughed when he cracked a smile, and when they grew somber again, Sophie continued, "I told you. I believe in you."

"I crossed a lot of hard lines," he countered. "Boundaries. That we set together."

"Are you trying to argue with me?"

"Maybe I'm just stalling."

Sophie didn't know how to respond. So she settled with nodding slowly. "Well. . ." Her sentence dissolved. She didn't know where she had been going with it, anyway, so it was probably best to let it trail off.

Minutes passed until he spoke up.

"I want to come back, Foster. I've been gone so long, though. I've. . . I've hurt a lot of people." It took him a moment before he dared to look her directly in the eyes. "I've hurt you."

She hummed. "Yeah," she agreed calmly, "You have. Doesn't mean you haven't made up for it."

"But—"

"Friends hurt friends, Keefe. It's going to happen. Whether you like it or not." She set a hand over his heart, letting the thump dull the festering anxiety coursing through her body. "What matters is if you try and make it right, or if you let it sit."

Keefe's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "We're friends?"

Sophie rolled her eyes, clapping her hand against his chest. Of course he'd noticed that above all. "Stay on topic, Keefe."

He gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he said, though his lip was twitching.

Sophie stared at it, eyes flashing from his mouth to his eyes in some wild panic. She hoped he didn't read too much into her darting eyes, but she couldn't look away from his mouth when it was quirking in ways like that and his voice was steady and low like that and he was looking at her like that.

She blushed wildly when he shot her a questioning look (which was most likely connected to some mood change he'd felt from her) and she averted her eyes, focusing on the hand she'd placed over his heart. She felt the pitter-patter underneath her hand, tracing miniature circles with her pointer finger, watching her nail turn the fabric grey for a split second.

Sophie had no restraint, though, and soon she was daring glances back at his jawline, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the corner of his mouth, his neck, and everywhere in between. She caught his throat muscles constrict as he swallowed from the corner of her eye, and when she peeked she was met with a patch of purple.

She frowned. It was a bruise. A very, very heavy bruise. The words, "Keefe, is this new?", flew out before she could even consider them, her 'stay on topic' comment be damned.

When he didn't answer her, she dipped her fingers into his collar, rolling it down to reveal his neck. She sucked in a sharp breath at the swirling purple and yellow and green. "Holy shit, Keefe. That has to hurt."

He'd gone rigid, so she rubbed his shoulders, hoping he got the signal that she was there. "Where'd you get all these bruises from?" she asked delicately, wincing from the sight of them. Oh, how sore he had to be.

Without another word she unpinned his cloak, throwing it off his shoulders and back onto the grass. Keefe watched it pool around his boots before she unlaced the top of his jerkin, roughly unbuttoning his undershirt to reveal more bruises littering his body. They were dark and ugly, staining his skin like blackberries peppered on a bush. 

Sophie glanced up into Keefe's gaze for a second, outstretching her fingers slow, making sure he was okay with her touching them before she went through with it. He didn't say anything, so Sophie took it as a yes, wincing as she grazed her fingertip along the top of the swollen flesh. Keefe flinched.

Sophie whispered, "These aren't from training, are they?"

Keefe shook his head sheepishly.

"What did they do to you?" she asked, hands shaking. She set them on his shoulders cautiously, praying he didn't have any bruise there.

"Mm." He set his hands on her waist, tugging her forward. She sucked in air between her teeth, creating a hissing sound, and it was abundantly clear she was afraid of hurting him.

Keefe had a sad smile on his lips as he lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Sophie's ear. "I didn't give you the, uh." He waited until she met his eyes to shrug. And it clicked.

He didn't give her the limbium, so they punished him, quite brutally.

His eyes held this look that practically voiced 'it could be worse' and Sophie hated how he seemed to be shrugging the experience off.

Shame rushed over her body in a wave of heat. It sweltered under her skin, making her cheeks and chest burn. After she'd snapped at him that night in a screaming rage, he'd had no problem light leaping away to people he knew would show him no mercy. He did it without a second thought, obeying her wishes almost instantly.

"Hey, don't cry, Foster. That was my decision to go back." A thumb brushed under her lashes, wiping away a tear she hadn't felt fall. Now that she thought about it, though, her vision was growing blurry.

"I'm gonna kill them," was her hushed reply. She risked caressing her thumb over one of his bruises. And another. And another.

His hand slinking around her wrist was the only thing that stopped her.

She peered up to his face, eyes laden with fresh tears. She blinked, a few streaming down her cheeks, salty rivers pouring down her neck. Keefe followed them with his eyes until they disappeared down the neckline of her dress.

His smile was surprisingly bright when he caught her gaze again. "No guilt, Foster."

"Easier said than done."

He gave a singular breathy laugh. "Well, then, what can we do to fix that? Would you like to make it up to me?"

Sophie wanted to grumble at him for how light he could seem during a situation like that, but instead, she blinked, letting the question sink in and her eyebrows steadily furrow. Sophie reached up, brushing the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "What? How?"

When Keefe's reaction to her question was for him to form a smirk with his mouth, she knew she'd sealed her doom.

She squealed when he scooped her up and four big strides later she was lowered halfway to the ground, back biting into the rough bark of a tree. She gasped again at the contact, looking up at the wisping leaves of Calla's panakes.

She blinked, realizing Keefe was propping her against the tree by the waist, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Her legs instinctively wrapped and tightened around his waist, heart thudding in her throat.

"I'll give you some bruises, how about that?"

Shit. That paired with the ravenous look in his eyes was not helping her steer clear from beckoning gutter thoughts. 

Sophie swallowed hard. "I don't think Calla would approve of this."

Keefe laughed, eyes twinkling as he leaned his head back, looking up at the panakes branches. Calla's leaves were swaying in the wind, wisping around playfully, dancing in the breeze while emitting a light perfume. Keefe looked back to Sophie, grinning. "Nah, I think she's cool with it."

Tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump. Sophie could have sworn her heart had cracked her ribcage by how it was beating with no mercy.

"The only question is: do you want this?"

His eyebrows were risen slightly on his forehead, asking her for permission. Her mouth ran dry, very aware that the hands he had on her waist tickled and tingled to no end. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, heels halfway dangling off her feet. She was barely holding onto them with the tips of her toes, and Keefe must have noticed because he laughed, reaching behind and slipping them off for her. She bit the inside of her cheek at the feel of his fingers running down the bottom arches of her feet, not wanting to give away the fact that that was one of her ticklish spots.

She watched her silver heels plop into the grass, stomach falling with them.

She met his eyes and slowly licked her lips, not missing the way his eyes followed the motion. "Well, I'm not opposed, but I—"

Her breath hitched when he stooped forward, and he chuckled as he felt her panic.

"Shh," Keefe hushed, eyes drooping."You owe me, Foster."

He captured her lips in a quick, heated, vulgar kiss before she could say anything else and all rational thoughts were dumped out the back of her brain. She was sure Sandor could see them, and she didn't care. She was sure Dex and Biana were spying through the window and could see them, but she didn't care.

She let the firm presses of his mouth drag her farther from reality.

Keefe pulled back instantly, and Sophie's mouth formed into a pouting frown that had him smiling. He wasted no time, making good on his promise, travelling down the column of her neck. He left a few open-mouthed, heated kisses in a line on her throat, waiting until he felt her focus fizzle away to sink his teeth in. Sophie made a strangled sound of surprise, and Keefe could feel the vibrations from it on his mouth. 

He held it there for a cluster of agonizing seconds, ensuring that it would be coloured as he released the skin from his teeth.  From there he peppered kisses over her Adam's apple, sliding down to her collarbones, where he decided to remain for a while. Sophie got lost in the constant stimulation, nipping and sucking at her sensitive skin until she was left a groaning mess in his arms.

Sophie fisted her hand in his hair, whining softly as he slid his tongue over her collarbone, cooling one of his rather deep marks.

He seemed intent on making her create noises, memorizing and worshipping every spot that made her gasp softly, or flutter her eyelids, or tighten her hands in his hair. Every spot that made her toes curl, made her erupt in a whine, a whimper, a groan.

In a mere second, Sophie could no longer feel his hot breath on her throat. He had finally pulled back, and he was smiling softly at her, while she was gulping in air. Her neck was still tingling from the love bites, and Keefe had flicked his eyes down to them, observing his handiwork like it was art.

"Y-You can never just stay kissing my mouth," she teased breathlessly, her chest bursting up and down as she panted.

Keefe smiled up at her, lifting a hand off her waist, placing it on her flushed cheek. He shrugged, helping her pop off his waist and settle her bare feet back on the ground, resting his free hand on the other side of the tree next to her head. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, igniting a shockwave that shot through Sophie's skin. He murmured, in a voice that made her toes curl, "I want to love every inch of you."

He dropped his hand to her neck, whisking his thumb over the areas that had begun to bruise on her neck and collarbone.

Sophie chewed on her lower lip, and she noticed the way Keefe's eyes strayed to the sight of her taking the plush flesh in between her teeth and they were kissing again. Sophie's hands cupped Keefe's cheeks, loving the feel of his body pressing her into the braided bark.

I hope Calla doesn't mind.

Even though she was quite used to him being fragile with her, she could never seem to get over the way her body acted as if it were experiencing electric shock every time he gently trailed his hands over her body. Anywhere and everywhere was a fire, whether hands or arms or hips or breasts or face.

Keefe knotted a hand in her hair, angling her face in different ways to see how many positions they could find themselves in. To discover how many ways their mouths could fit together.

When she felt something moving the material of her dress at her thigh, tightening the fabric around her hips, she'd figured it was Keefe trying to be playful with her, until her mind fizzled back to reality just enough to remind her that one hand was on her side, the other in her hair.

Ultimately, she ignored it, focusing on drinking in Keefe. But then it couldn't be ignored, because whatever it was was persistent.

Sophie found herself giggling, breaking the kiss and leaving Keefe temporarily stupefied as to what was so hilarious. She could hear growling, so she pulled back in Keefe's arms just enough to peer down to where her dress was being insistently tugged at, envisioning a white ball of fur biting at her ankles.

Sure enough, her suspicions were correct as she met the eager gaze of a bouncy puppy.

Keefe pulled Sophie flush against him, chest to chest, and she could feel his rising and drooping with his infectious laughter. "Lodie, stop," he chided (though he was chuckling). "Don't ruin Foster's dress."

"Oh, please let him ruin it. It'll give me an excuse to never wear it again."

She could throw it off the side of the cliff. Watch it sink in and soak up the salty water before disappearing down into the sand. Let the snails and seaweed devour it.

"But I like seeing you so dolled-up," he teased, and with the way he bounced one of her curls playfully she would have assumed it was solely teasing. But then he caught her eyes again with some awe-struck, half-lidded daze that made her heartbeat in a rhythmic pulse against her eardrums.

She countered, "You like seeing me any way," and immediately regretted it the instant that his face lit up.

"Honestly, very true. Your natural beauty is truly a sight to behold."

She swatted as he tried to squish her cheeks. "Stop, you corndog."

"Stop what?"

"The teasing," she complained, even though she knew he already had known what she'd meant, judging by the smirk on his face.

"Oh, that's not teasing, Foster. Those are cold, hard facts."

"Mhm." She rolled her eyes, rubbing her thumb over the Neverseen patch on his cloak's shoulder. He grabbed her wrist gently when she didn't stop after a minute, setting her hand idly on his shoulder. When Keefe leaned forward, then, she fully expected him to return to their kissing, but instead, she only felt his forehead pressed against hers.

A soft smile stretched over her red lips and she raised her hands higher around his neck, swirling his fingers around the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Foster," he muttered into her ear. He tangled a hand in her hair, kissing the golden threads with his eyes screwed shut.

Sophie focused on the rise and fall of his chest against her own. He was alive. He was with her. "It's okay, Keefe."

He shook his head, burying it into her neck. "No," he said calmly. "It's not. It wasn't."

"You're here now." She began rubbing steady circles on his back.

She could have sworn she felt the upward tug of his lips against her shoulder. "Yeah." His laugh was quiet but clearly happy. "Yeah, I am. I'm right here."

Sophie's throat tightened. She blinked her eyes, hoping that the tears threatening to well in her eyes would stay tamed and keep themselves at bay. She nuzzled the bottom half of her face into his shoulder, lips and nose meeting with the warm but scratchy thickness of his cloak.

"So. . . . this means you're staying?" she asked softly into his shoulder, needing to clarify it. "You're joining our side again?"

Keefe shuddered, melting into her touch. "Staying," he agreed when his shivering had ceased. He murmured, "Fintan's gonna kill me."

"I won't let him," she promised. She combed a hand through his hair soothingly, smiling gently. "I missed you."

"I missed you more."

She smiled.