I'm awake long after Foster leaves. It's dark, it's cold, but neither help me, and the journal and letter on the far side of the room haunt me.
What scares me most of all, though, is the way Foster's emotions change. Before, there was some level of calm, control underlying everything, but today, as I felt her emotions change, they were like cats - one moment they're lazy, the next they're trying to make you bleed.
And yes, I speak from experience. We do not talk about that situation. It was entirely the cat's fault.
I know she didn't mean to snipe at me, but I can't help but think that there was some level of truth to her words. She wasn't made Regent of her own accomplishments, it was because of her status as the Moonlark - a status that was a result of what she was, what she was made into.
I remember thinking, sometimes, that I would love to be her, sometimes going as far as to thinking that maybe I might actually be better at being the Moonlark than she is (crazy, I know). It hadn't occurred to me until now that maybe being the Moonlark would be more burdensome than what she lets on. Sophie has the world's weight on her shoulders, and then some. She'll never know what it means to be normal because she isn't, and although all of our normal existences were put on hold when she came into our lives, my heart can't help but feel a pang of sadness because a) she's never wanted an of this and b) it's not something she's got of her own achievements.
If there's something I can understand, it's success being handed to you on a plate.
A part of me wants to take her load and let her live, but the smarter part of me says that if I pointed these things out to Foster, she'd deny it, because admitting trouble is a weakness, and she's tried her hardest to be as strong as she is. Admitting something means believing in it, and that's not something she would want.
-+-
When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a minute to remember why there isn't sunlight streaming out the windows, why Dr. Daniel isn't rumbling around the kitchen, why Liam's not dumping water on my head to wake me up.
Ro hovers over me. "You sleep like the dead."
I throw an arm over my eyes. "You walk like the living."
"You are living." Ro crosses her arms. "C'mon, Hunkyhair, you have somewhere to go today. The Council gave you a temporary leaping crystal."
"To where?"
"It's blue." Ro dangles it in front of me. "Does that answer your question?"
I'm up and going in a second.
YOU ARE READING
Keeper of The Lost Cities: Book 9: Showdown
FantasyKeefe and Sophie are lost. In completely different worlds, they fight their own battles, but they both need each other to win. Two of Sophie's friends are taken hostage, and she will stop at nothing to get them back. But coming for them means goin...
