keep your friends close

(31)

Everglen is huge and dark at this time of night, but Sophie keeps walking. She reasons that, at some point, she'll find somewhere far away enough, somewhere she doesn't have to think about anything at all.

Most of the doors she tries are locked or lead down other hallways, but eventually she finds a set of doors that swing inward with a small click. She closes them behind her and leans back against the doors with a stuttered sigh.

Her throat constricts as tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She squeezes them shut. Don't cry don't cry don't cry—

"Um."

Her eyes fly open.

Sitting at the other end of the room is Keefe. Like everyone else, he looks tired, his hair more ruffled and unkempt than stylishly messy. He eyes her with a confused stare.

"What are you doing in here?" Sophie blurts.

Keefe raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Fitz said I could stay in here."

She glances at her surroundings. They're clearly in a bedroom, judging by the four-poster bed that Keefe is seated on. The room has a similar layout as Biana's but much tidier, with an expansive closet at one end and a large sofa set at the other. A dark shelf as tall as the high ceiling is piled with books.

"This is Fitz's room," she says in realization.

"Bingo," Keefe says.

Sophie looks back at him. There are medical supplies sitting beside him on the bed—bandages, cotton balls, a couple bottles of liquid that look like they came from Elwin's bag—and she realizes with a start that Keefe's shirt is hanging open, half-unbuttoned.

"Oh, Keefe," she says quietly. "What happened to you?"

He regards her warily as she approaches, but doesn't move away as Sophie sits carefully beside him on the bed. She knew he would be injured—this close up, she can clearly see a gash on his lower lip and a bruise forming on his temple—but she still winces at the sight of the jagged cuts running across his chest and collarbones.

"It looks worse than it really is," Keefe assures. "Elwin told me I need to clean them before using elixirs to seal them."

He grits his teeth as he dabs lightly at one of the cuts across his collarbone. Sophie feels a stab of helplessness. She hates watching her friends in pain, especially knowing it's her fault that he and Biana ended up like this.

"Here, let me help," she offers, and gently takes the cotton swab from him to continue carefully cleaning out the cut.

Keefe raises his eyebrows when she moves closer. "You really don't have to—"

"I don't mind," she insists. Quietly, she adds, "It's my fault Biana got hurt, anyway. I just... need to do something to help right now."

He frowns. "There's no way that's true."

"Well, it is," she begins to say, but he shakes his head.

"Biana went looking for me," Keefe tells her. "She shielded me from the explosion. That's why she's—" He closes his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "She wasn't supposed to get hurt. It's my fault."

There's so much pain and guilt in the air tonight. No wonder Keefe wanted to hide away in Fitz's room. Sophie is careful to avoid touching him, too afraid that he would be able to feel through her meticulously constructed layer of lies to who she really is.

"You really care about her, don't you?" she asks him.

"Of course I do," Keefe answers. "Biana's like a sister to me."