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.

She slowly reached out her own and set it on top of his. She blew out a breath. "Okay." Okay to so many things. So many promises. So much weight.

But it would be okay. Because they had each other.

"I was thinking," Sophie said, an idea suddenly coming to her mind, "that since your theory is that the Neverseen messed with my head emotions, and changed my memories, that maybe some of the triggers lay in my head? I think we should focus on . . . " She broke off, not quite sure where she was headed.

But Keefe seemed to understand. "Looking into the memories that hold the most significance and starting with the emotions there?" he finished.

"Yeah," Sophie agreed. "Something like that."

"Okay," Keefe said. "Should we start at the beginning?"

She nodded. "Do you want to see the memory as I replay it?"

"That would be easiest," Keefe agreed. "That way as I monitor your emotions, I can see the exact things that are happening as they change."

Sophie fought off the small part of her that shied away from sharing memories with Keefe. After all, he had let her into his mind so many times—trusted her with his memories so many times. Why couldn't she do the same for him?

She blew out a breath. "Okay. Let's do this."

Keefe scooted closer and grabbed her other hand.

Sophie closed her eyes, recalling the first time she'd ever met Fitz—back in San Diego, when she had been on a field trip with her class at a history museum. She waited as the memory slowly formed and crystallized, stalling.

Ready? Sophie finally transmitted to Keefe, opening a channel between their minds.

Now I finally get to see how you and the Fitzter met, Keefe said. Sophie took that as a yes.

She started the memory.

Sophie and Keefe watched twelve-year-old Sophie duck behind a wall, hiding from her class.

She let out a breath of relief as she relished in the few precious moments of silence.

"Is this you?" A heavily accented voice shattered the quiet.

Sophie's gaze snapped up. She watched as a brown-haired boy with bright teal eyes and a dazzling smile stepped out from behind one of the exhibits, newspaper in hand.

Sophie blinked, staring at the black-and-white photograph of herself printed onto the page of an article her family hadn't given permission to the newspaper to write in dark ink.

The Sophie watching the memory remembered feeling overwhelmed by being talked to by such a good-looking boy, her brain turned to mush by his pretty eyes.

But the Sophie living the memory felt something different. She felt . . . suspicion. And not underlying, easy-to-ignore suspicion—but overwhelming, consuming suspicion.

She did not trust this teal-eyed boy, but she played along. What did he want?

Whoa, Keefe thought.

Yeah, Sophie agreed. I definitely do not remember feeling that the first time I met Fitz, she said.

Mm-hm. It was probably more like—

Okay, Sophie interrupted. Moving on.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the memory replay. They watched past-Sophie run out of the museum, watched her stop the falling lamppost with her mind, watched Fitz wrap her arms around her, protecting her from the falling light.

And they felt as distrust and irritation coursed through Sophie's veins, making her shove Fitz off as quickly as possible.

It didn't happen like that, either, Sophie transmitted quietly.

You know what that means, don't you? Keefe asked.

It means that the Neverseen did change my head emotions.

Sophie shut the memory down, imagining it going dark like a movie screen after the movie ended. She snapped her eyes open, ignoring the harsh light that suddenly burned them.

She tried to pull her hands away from Keefe's, feeling numb, but he just squeezed tighter. He didn't let her let go.

"Hey," he said. "I—"

Sophie and Keefe spun towards the archway leading into the room as the sound of lots of people floated down the hallway. "Stop stepping on my cape!" a high-pitched voice Sophie didn't quite recognize shrieked. She could hear muttered curses as the people coming through the hideout got closer.

At last, Dex shoved his way into the room. "There you guys are!" He panted.

Sophie and Keefe ripped their hands apart. Dex pretended not to notice as the rest of the people filed into the room.

Sophie shrank back when she saw Biana, Fitz, Marella, and Linh . . . all her old friends were coming in, making it impossible to avoid them any longer.

But all of the thoughts fled her mind when her eyes flicked over the last figure, taking him in. His light eyes, his black hair, his silver bangs. She felt her face pale, and her heart stuttered.

Impossible.

"Tam?"