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“I think my device is broken?” Sophie said, sheepish. She held up the step counter on her wrist to show the matchmakers. Instead of displaying numbers like it was supposed to, the screen simply had a line through it.
“Huh,” the matchmaker, Brisa, said. “That’s never happened before.”
Of course it had never happened before. Sophie was always stumbling into things that had never happened before. Just once, Sophie wanted to run into a problem and find out it was very common, easily solvable because hundreds of people before her had already encountered and solved that same problem.
Brisa was still looking at her, brow furrowed, like Sophie was a particularly complicated equation she was trying to solve. “I guess something went wrong with the manufacturing,” she said finally. “I’ll go get you a new one.”
She left, and Sophie was alone in the matchmaking office, tugging at her eyelashes.
She wasn’t sure why she’d gone to the matchmakers, really. She had no interest in finding her soulmate, in falling in love. There would be plenty of time for that later would she want that later, though? Would she ever want it?
Maybe she wanted to try being a normal teenager, for once. One who did normal teenager things. She could at least pretend that she was normal, like everyone else her age who cared about crushes and dating and matchmaking.
Sophie was well versed in standing out among teenagers who cared about relationships. When she’d been in high school in the human world, she’d heard every horny, lovesick thought from every high schooler around her. Everyone thought about who was dating who, and how they were going to ask their crush to prom, and about sex. And Sophie couldn’t care less about any of those things, and it was just another way she stood out.
Sure, she was younger than all of her classmates, but even kids her own age thought about romance. It was normal for twelve year olds to have crushes, and Sophie wasn’t normal. Even Amy, three years younger than her, pecked a girl on the lips at recess once, and held hands with her when they walked to class.
And Sophie thought, maybe she was too weird for anyone to ever like her like that.
And maybe she was too weird to ever like anyone like that either.
It was a relief in many ways, when she came to the Lost Cities. A relief to not hear everyone’s thoughts, constantly. A relief to not be the only telepath.
A relief to learn about the matchmaking system. About soulmates.
Because maybe she’d thought she would never find anyone who could fall in love with her, and maybe she’d thought she could never fall in love with anyone, but she’d been wrong, hadn’t she? The universe had determined the right person for her. They were out there, somewhere.
That filled her with more dread than excitement. She liked the idea of a soulmate, but now that it was almost a reality…
Every other level five and six was so excited to go to the matchmakers. To find out who their soulmate was, or how far away they were. To see the number of steps between them, the distance between you and the person you’re meant to be with forever.
Being with someone forever was such a terrifying concept, especially with elves’ indefinite lifespan.
People had been placing bets on who Sophie’s soulmate would be, with Fitz and Keefe as the most likely contenders. It made her nauseous Keefe was her friend, and Fitz was her cognate. But soulmates? Sophie didn’t know. She liked them. She could fall in love with one of them someday, couldn’t she? Couldn’t she? She couldn’t
Brisa returned to the office. “Sorry about that,” she said, handing Sophie a new step counter, identical to the last one. “This one should work properly.”
Sophie put it on and slowly, hesitantly, looked at it.
That same line across the screen.
“It’s not working again,” she said, hot tears springing to her eyes. She tried to force them down, convincing herself to take deep breaths. It’s fine it’s fine I’ll find my soulmate eventually do I even want a soulmate it’s fine.
Brisa’s brow furrowed again. “Hmm. I should… I’m not sure what this means.” She pulled out her imparter and sent a message. “I’m asking my boss. She’ll sort this out, don’t worry.”
But Sophie did worry, especially when someone who must have been the matchmaking office’s boss walked in, a nametag reading Juji on her chest. Brisa explained the situation and prompted Sophie to show the malfunctioning device. She did so numbly, as though moving in a dream, and Juji looked at her with pity lining her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Sophie tensed. “What is it?”
“You don’t have a soulmate.”
The device wasn’t broken. She was broken.
Sophie stormed out of the matchmaking office. Her parents (they looked so eager, how could she tell them she didn’t have a soulmate, how could she let them down) asked if she was okay, and she snapped something about needing to talk to Mr. Forkle. She barely registered the look of concern that passed between them before she leapt to Foxfire and ran down the halls to Magnate Leto’s office.
“Why do you always have to fuck up my life?” Sophie yelled, and Forkle blinked up at her in surprise.
“I’m sorry?”
“It wasn’t enough to let me grow up a Telepath in the human world, it wasn’t enough to sneak into my room and hide weird shit in my head, it wasn’t enough to let me stand out as a fucking genetic experiment here. You had to design me so I would go through all this shit, and I would go through it alone, because you designed me so I wouldn’t even have a fucking soulmate!”
“I…” Forkle started.
“What, was this some clever plan to highlight the flaws of the matchmaking system? I already know the flaws of the matchmaking system, you didn’t need to make me so I was– so I was broken.”
“You’re not broken,” Forkle said finally, and Sophie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not having a soulmate doesn’t mean you’re broken. And it’s not something we chose for you. This isn’t part of Project Moonlark, it’s part of you. It’s just who you are.”
“I don’t like who I am,” Sophie said, and the fight drained out of her. She didn’t feel like screaming at Forkle or punching him anymore. Just… sad.
He looked sad too. “I’m sorry. I hope, with time, you come to accept yourself.”
Not fucking likely, she thought.
The worst part of it all, Sophie thought, wasn’t that she was upset. It was that she was relieved. Relieved, because she hadn’t even wanted a soulmate, the whole thing quite frankly sounded awful to her, and she thought she’d change her mind once she met the one, but the one didn’t exist, and she didn’t even want a soulmate.
She just didn’t want to be broken.
When she came home, Grady and Edaline were waiting for her, sitting on the couch. Grady patted the space between them, and Sophie sat. “Can we talk about what happened at the matchmaking office?” he asked.
Sophie took a deep breath, closed her eyes as Edaline ran her fingers through her hair. “They told me I don’t have a soulmate. At all. I… I’m never going to have a soulmate. Never fall in love.”
She braced herself for their questions, their Are you sure? Never? Maybe you’ll change, someday, but it didn’t come. Grady simply said, “Okay.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You’re not upset?”
“Of course not, Sophie.” He could probably tell she was unconvinced, because he added, “Last time I took my daughter to the matchmakers, we found out her soulmate wasn’t someone she was allowed to marry, and then he killed her. Trust me, this is an improvement. I’m not upset, I promise.”
“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she said. Her voice hitched. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Grady told her.
“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Edaline added.
Tears rose to her eyes, threatening to spill. “I’m broken.”
“You’re my daughter,” Edaline said. “And I love you. I will always love you, soulmate or no soulmate.”
Sophie still felt like there was something wrong with her. She’d believed that for a very long time, and maybe a part of her would believe it forever. It wasn’t going to be easy, to accept that she didn’t have a soulmate, that she was different, but not broken. It hurt, but her parents loved her, and they were holding her, and for now, that was enough.