Keeper of the Lost Cities: Rebuild [COMPLETED]

Chapter Forty-Eight - TAM

"If Dimitar takes one more second to make a stinking decision, we're going to go all Shadow-Pyrokinetic-Destruction on his precious capital!" Marella hollered, pacing the length of the Triad.

Tam was leaning against the wall in the shadow-iest spot he could find. They were always easier to control than the shadowflux, and that small ounce of power he had over his ability gave him comfort. "I don't know what you mean by 'we,' 'cause I'm not helping you expend your frustration in such an immature manner."

"You'll get imprisoned no matter what."

"From what?"

"Guilty by association!" She shot him an evil grin. "Don't you love being associated with me?"

"Not when you get your crazy pyromaniac tendencies! Also, have you noticed you're starting to sound more and more like Keefe? No wonder I don't like you."

"It's because I'm so stir-crazy! Sophie left for some battle hours ago! What if she needed our help? What if she's in trouble?"

"Sophie'll be fine—although I don't know why I'm trying to convince you, since you never listen to me anyway."

"Who would when you act like you know everything?"

Tam didn't rise to the bait. This was pointless—them fighting. That was all they'd been doing for the past few days; hazard of being so close to her, he guessed. Then again, being so close to her had almost made him want to stay close—which was a thought almost as stupid as her destroy-the-ogre-capital plan.

"What makes you have so much faith in Sophie anyway?" Marella asked after a moment, like she'd considered not talking to him but then decided that was unavoidable. "You haven't exactly been super enthusiastic about this whole mission in the first place."

He ignored that jab. "I don't know. Sophie's just..." He hesitated. He didn't know how to finish that. What was she?

She hadn't been committed to one decision or another the whole trip, and then suddenly she'd given this long speech to Dimitar that proved maybe there'd been a shift in her, a moment of clarity.

I get it—you're angry. Angry that things aren't going your way, and scrambling to find something to hold onto.

In that moment, Tam had forgotten where they were, what they were doing, who they were trying to convince. He'd thought Sophie had been talking to him—and she was right. He was angry, but he didn't know why.

The shadows did, though. That was why they flocked to him; they were attracted to pain. They hid it from him, and after a while...

They bite back.

Marella cleared her throat. "Sophie's what?"

"She's... a good leader. She knows what she's doing."

"Except when it comes to her love life, apparently," Ro said, strutting into the Triad like some bulky ogreish has-at-least-twelve-weapons-on-me fashion model. "She's broken up with Keefe, hasn't she?"

Marella glanced at Tam. "Uh..."

"Don't look at me!" he spluttered. "I don't keep track of who Sophie's kissing or not!"

"Why is Sophie and kissing the first thing that comes to your mind in this scenario?"

"What? Is this a trap? Because I feel like it's a trap."

Ro whistled. "Never mind about Sokeefe sailing; what is up with Tarella over here? Or do you prefer Maram? Actually, that last one sounds like something Sandor would name his goblin baby, so let's stick with Tarella."