keep your friends close

(7)

The hooded guards incline their heads as Keefe sweeps past them and pushes through the doors.

He pokes his head into the room. "You asked for me?"

"Yes. Sit."

Keefe reluctantly seats himself at the other end of the long table and gazes around uncertainly. Being deep underground in the ocean always made him anxious. He has plenty of trust that their Hydrokinetic could keep it together, but the sandy ceilings still dripped with water, and it always smelled like seaweed and salt.

A chair scrapes against the stone floor, and Keefe snaps to attention as Vespera stands at the other end of the table. Her pale skin appears even more ashen against the dark walls.

"What happened at Marshmere?" she asks.

Straight to the point, as usual. Keefe sighs and leans back in his seat. "What do you want to know that I haven't already told you?"

Vespera narrows her eyes. "Tell me why you approached the Moonlark when you were under strict orders not to."

He grits his teeth. "I wanted to see if anything... changed."

"And did it?" she asks, almost mockingly.

"No," he admits quietly. "But I can still read her emotions from a distance. I almost had her this time, I could feel it—"

She snorts. "Almost?"

"I was close—"

Vespera reaches out and grabs him by the wrist. Keefe can't hold back a gasp at the icy cold feeling that runs through his veins. There isn't even an emotion he can feel—it's the startling absence of any emotion at all.

She digs her nails into his skin. "You've been reckless lately. It's affecting your training."

Anger flares in him. "I was doing just fine on my own—"

"Oh, really?" she shoots back. "Like how you were doing just fine at Ravagog?"

Keefe glares, but remains silent. Vespera raises her eyebrows, satisfied. "I thought so. Do not disobey me again, understand?"

She removes her hand, leaving him to rub at the marks left on his wrist. Vespera continues her slow pacing around the room. "The only way you can defeat the Moonlark and the Black Swan is to properly harness and control your ability under my guidance. We've been over this."

He falls back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair. "Is that all you wanted? To scold me?"

"No," she says. "In fact, I'm easing your restrictions. The Black Swan will have realized you're alive. You're free to resume regular missions."

Keefe gapes. "Really?"

"Yes—carefully. But you do have a task to attend to after school tomorrow." She tuts when his shoulders slump. "Don't make me regret this, Keefe. You know we have to be cautious, after everything that happened with Brant."

He looks away. "I know."

"Take care of one last thing, will you? You know what to do."

Keefe stands numbly and picks up a knife lying in a bowl on the table. It's no bigger than a butter knife.

He runs the blade over the palm of his hand and lets the blood drip into the bowl below. In the dim lighting, it looks as dark as ink.

"You know, you are getting better," Vespera declares after a moment. "You're progressing faster than we hoped. But you're still not ready." She fixes him with a hard stare. "You understand."

The dismissal in her tone is implied—their conversation is over. Keefe leaves through the doors, wrapping his hand in a cloth. He sweeps past the same hooded guards, and almost misses the hulky figure lurking in the shadows against the wall—almost.

"What are you smirking about?" he grumbles.

Ro grins, all teeth. "What was Lady Creeperton yelling about?"

Keefe looks to the hooded guards, who are suddenly very interested in studying the floor. "Not here," he murmurs to her, and heads for the nearest exit.

Ro ducks into the passageway after him. "You look pretty ticked off," she muses. "Let me guess—she went after your butt for messing up at Marshmere."

"Marshmere doesn't matter," Keefe growls. "It's the Moonlark that matters. No one gets that I took a calculated risk—a risk that failed, sure, but—"

"It's not just that, Keefers," Ro sighs. She grabs him by the shoulders and turns him toward her. "Look at me—stop struggling for a minute—look. You're important to the Neverseen. If something happens to you, everything goes down the drain." She makes an overexaggerated explosion sound with her mouth. "Years of work—just like that. No one wants that."

He scowls. "The Moonlark—"

"Yes! That's the problem!" Ro exclaims.  She widens her eyes comically. "The Moonlark is powerful. She's dangerous. And she almost killed you the other night. AGAIN." She shakes her head. "I told you to let me come with you to Marshmere, and what do you do? You ditch me."

"It was for your own good, Ro—"

Ro barks out a laugh. "Bull. You think just because you're pretty you can go around doing whatever you want?"

The glare slips off Keefe's face in favor of a cocky smile. "Yes?" he asks.

"You're an idiot." She snorts and releases her grip on his shoulders. "Don't do that again. Seriously. Not without me, at least."

Keefe stares up at her. She still looks like she's about to stab him, but they've known each other long enough to know that she does care—in whatever weird way Ro preferred to show affection.

"Whatever you say, princess," Keefe replies, and Ro grins back, all teeth.