OVERLOOKED ㅤkotlc

075

Havenfield's living room overflows with elves. It's filled to the brim with warmth, and I remember—unbidden—how empty it'd been before Sophie.

It's been a week since I've returned. A week spent with family, with sleep, and with friends. On Monday, the entire friend group ditched Foxfire to make mallowmelt with me on my kitchen's linoleum floor. We played human music and laughed as Keefe did the tango with Fitz.

Rosaleen still hasn't contacted me. But I try my best not to think about it; avoidance is, after all, my favorite coping mechanism.

The door opens with the last guest. With it ajar, the sweet smell of jasmine dances into the room, and Rosaleen stands against the sunset.

Something within me twists. I search her for familiarity, and when I easily pick up her anxious fear, I'm both relieved I can read her and saddened by how lonely this crowd must look to her.

As if she feels my gaze, her eyes are quickly drawn to mine. We stand across the room, tethered only by eye contact—an exchange so ordinary but, given the terms we ended on, so sacred.

The door falls shut. Mr. Forkle raises a glass and, clink, taps a spoon against it until the chatter subsides. Beside me, Sophie brushes her shoulder against mine, in an act of quiet support.

"I trust that you all know why we're here," he says. Murmurs of affirmation sweep across the room. "Good; I won't repeat a summary of Mr. Dizznee and Ms. Ellis' mission, then. Instead, I've called you all here to chart our next course of action. Although the blame doesn't fall on them, we have been left in a precarious position."

Tiergan, who stands with Wylie, Tam, and Linh, leans back against the countertop, humming in thought. Everyone's eyes shift toward him. "It sounds like we can't do much," he says, his words slowed by consideration. "So we're, as always, neither at an advantage nor a disadvantage."

Now his gaze turns to me, soft and curious. Everyone's eyes follow, probing. I tense.

"I looked through the weekly logs Sophie transcribed," Tiergan says. "You never really did paint the Neverseen in a bad light."

My face feels hot. I'm not being accused, but it kinda feels like it. "Um, yeah. Because they weren't really mean to me, I guess. It doesn't match what we've seen these last years, but... they were nice. I don't know."

The burn on my stomach feels, suddenly, fresh. Every word I'd said is lined with doubt.

"Yeah, I noticed that, too," says Grady. His words aren't harsh; they're simply pensive. But they feel pointed. "Reading what you said... it was contradictory, to say the least."

The remnants of grief are littered in the stiffness of his being. Again, I remember how Jolie had died—and how a part of her parents died with her. I feel foolish.

"Well, while we do recognize they're nice, we do realize they're not good people." Rosaleen's voice splits the tension with a blunt truth.

She's quiet, but she speaks articulately, and, in a way I've come to know, she subtly demands a listening ear. And, accordingly—everyone turns to her. I wonder if they know her name.

"People can do bad things, while also having some capacity to love," she says. "I mean, you guys study humans; you should know. And because of this, it's hard to tell if our position is as precarious as it seems."

Mr. Forkle watches her. "What do you mean by that, Ms. Ellis?"

"The only people who know of our true loyalties are Ruy, Melia, and Alvar." At the last name, the Vacker family tenses. Rosaleen glances at them, but continues. "They're all people who genuinely befriended Dex. So, maybe, in his best interest, they won't tell Gisela."

I'm taken aback by the faith she has in their concern for me.

"Well... that'd be a stretch," says Mr. Forkle. It's clear that he—and everyone else in the room—is doubtful.

"It would be," Rosaleen agrees. "But, as inhumane as their actions are, they're pretty humane when they're amongst themselves. So I don't think it's a possibility that should be overruled."

Mr. Forkle tips his head in acknowledgement. "That's fair. Would you like to add anything else?" It's a genuine question. I think he's beginning to see Rosaleen's value; strangely, I'm proud.

"I also don't think we're in a precarious situation for other reasons. We can send people to defend Foxfire, and pathfinders are at our disposal if they follow through on that attack." Rosaleen pauses to think. The room hangs on to her held breath.

"And," she says, "we can make a list of the other assets that need defending, and we'll defend them. So if they use Foxfire as a decoy, we'll be prepared. Dex and I can also give knowledge on how they organize themselves—that way, we can counter them optimally."

I'm immensely grateful for her presence. While nothing she said was groundbreaking, it was clear that everyone else was drowned by the sting of the loss. Her logic is a breath of fresh air.

Mr. Forkle considers her. "That's true. I suppose you're right; we aren't in a precarious position, per se. They're just on offense, and we're on defense. As usual," he says. "Do the two of you have a sufficient amount of knowledge?"

I know I don't, but I also know Rosaleen does. She is, after all, innately analytical. "We should," I say.

Mr. Forkle nods at me. The tension in the room has, somehow, eased. I steal a glance at Rosaleen and find she's already looking at me.

Tentatively, we exchange a small smile.

˚ ༘ 🌷 ── author's note!

this chapter has been brought to you by my procrastination 🥸