xliv. forty-four

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Sophie untangled their hands, pulling away, her thoughts swirling. "What do you mean, I'm not Enhancing you?" The words came out sharper than she intended.

Keefe's jaw locked. "I mean, nothing happens when when I touch your hand."

Sophie shook her head. "That's impossible."

"Are you sure you don't have your Enhancing switched off?"

"What do you mean?" Sophie snapped. She knew she was being unkind, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She got up and started pacing. All the instances when something like this had happened before rose up in her mind, coming to the front.

The first one was when she was captured by the Black Swan and taken to Aurahand, and she'd tried to transmit to Ruy. She'd been able to do it, but it had given her a splitting headache—and she hadn't been able to keep it up for long.

The second was when she had tried to blow apart a lock at Foxfire with her mind when she had snuck in to steal Mallowmelt, but hadn't been able to.

A third was falling from her window at the hideout, trying to levitate—and the ground rising up to meet her way too fast.

Over and over, more examples and memories of the same sinking, endless feeling rolling around in her gut as she tried to do different things the past seven months surged through her head.

"You told me before you . . . left . . . that you had figured out how to switch your Enhancing on and off internally," Keefe said.

Sophie spun on her heel. "No. That's not true. I would know if I knew how to do that."

Keefe shook his head. "No. You—" he grunted, cutting himself off, obviously deciding that it wasn't worth it.

Suddenly, an idea hit Sophie. She stopped pacing and spun to face Keefe, eyes wide. "This has to do with my emotions, doesn't it? Nothing will work properly." Her fists clenched. She really needed to hurl a throwing star at something.

She was starting to miss having an arena down the hall every day.

"Whoa, whoa," Keefe said, standing up to come beside her. He gripped her shoulders. "hey, we're going to fix this, okay? We don't know anything for sure."

She looked away. "And you don't know that."

Keefe shook his head. "I do. Because you're Sophie Foster. Nothing the Neverseen does is irreversible. They can't keep you down forever."

Sophie closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. He was right. Even if she didn't know it in her head, she knew it in her heart.

They wouldn't stoop down to the Neverseen's level. And as long as they never did, they were sure to come out of this the victors.

Just . . . "I'm so sick of them messing with me," Sophie said. "I just want to live normally. Is that too much to ask?"

Keefe dropped his hands. "I don't know. We're all caught up in the middle of it, though. There's no going back. We can't change that." He started walking back over to the armchairs, and Sophie followed him.

"But you know what we can do?" Keefe asked, meeting her eyes. "We can get through this, one battle at a time. Starting with sorting through your emotions." He reached out a hand. Sophie eyed it as it hovered in the space between them. It held so many implications—so much weight and promise.

She had a feeling it wouldn't be easy. It would never be easy. But . . . as long as they were together—as long as she had Keefe—she couldn't shake the feeling that everything would be okay. That she could face anything that came her way, if she just took his hand.

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