keep your friends close

(34)

Dex doubles over with laughter when Sophie tells him the news.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes between breaths while Sophie looks on, unamused. "I'm not laughing because of your grades. I'm laughing because I can't believe Forkle decided on Keefe. Out of everyone at Foxfire, without a second thought."

"Mr. Forkle showed me Keefe's Alchemy grades," Sophie adds. "He's been top of his class since he was a Level Two."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Dex replies. "But also, this is Keefe we're talking about."

Sophie laughs soundlessly. She's a little apprehensive about the idea of spending one-on-one time with Keefe—given their last encounter alone in Everglen—but she also feels better knowing she won't be tutored by a complete stranger.

Dex shivers and draws his cloak tighter around himself. "Where is Greyfell, anyway?"

She peers up into the white-blue sky. "He should be here soon." The alicorn was usually hesitant to land anywhere too close to the Lost Cities, but here at Rimeshire they're so far north that they're isolated from any kind of civilization, elvin or human.

Right on cue, a crack of thunder sounds from above, and Greyfell swoops down to the earth on blue-tipped wings. He lets out a soft grunt when Sophie reaches towards him, warm breath pluming out of his nostrils like smoke.

"Hi, boy," she croons. "Dex and I want to visit Wylie. Can you take us there?"

Greyfell whinnies softly.

Moments later, she and Dex are sitting astride the alicorn, her fingers tangled in Greyfell's silky mane. She squeezes her eyes shut as Greyfell tucks in his wings and plummets.

When she opens her eyes, they've teleported to a completely different landscape, surrounded by gently sloping moorland. A stone cottage sits amidst a meadow of heather, warm and inviting under the overcast sky.

Sophie strokes the alicorn's neck gratefully as she slides off Greyfell's back. The alicorn leaps into the air and circles above them as Sophie and Dex make their way towards the house.

Prentice answers the door and smiles at them, his eyes crinkling kindly. "I'm glad you're both here. Come on in."

The interior is decorated in shades of cozy beiges and blues—couches draped with knit blankets, fuzzy rugs on tiled floors, neatly cut logs in a basket by the fireplace. Prentice leads them upstairs, past windowsills lined with vases of lavender, to a room painted eggshell white. A curtained window looks out onto the heather meadows. Wylie lays on the bed, tucked under a pale blue quilt, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths.

"He's been in and out of consciousness because of the medicines he's on," Prentice explains quietly, "and Maruca visited earlier, so he's quite drained of energy."

"Of course," Sophie says understandingly, feeling a little relieved to hear that Maruca isn't here right now. Sophie's spent the past few days avoiding her friends under the excuse of Black Swan duties. Even Dex doesn't know about the fight she had with Maruca. Sophie doesn't want him to feel forced to side with one of them, or even worse, he would confirm what she already knows to be true—that Sophie had failed them.

They sit at Wylie's bedside, and Prentice settles in an armchair across from them. "The last time I was here, I was the one in recovery, not Wylie," Prentice says with a chuckle. "But both times, we have had you to thank, Sophie."

Sophie has a distant memory of visiting this place years ago to heal Prentice's broken mind. She tries for a smile, but Maruca's words keep echoing in her ear. You're the Moonlark. You're supposed to help people.