“I haven’t. Dex is my best friend, remember? And thanks to you, he’s been stuck in my room all alone, waiting for me all this time.”
“Don’t worry, I warned him it might be a while,” Grady told her. “He said he’d play with Iggy while he waited.”
Dex’s idea of playing with Iggy usually ended with an imp makeover. So Sophie wasn’t surprised when she found Dex sitting among all the flowers in her carpet, holding a tiny creature that was no longer a purple poof.
“He looks awesome, doesn’t he?” Dex asked, flashing his dimpled grin as Iggy flitted his batlike wings and flew over to Sophie’s palm. His fur was now a bright Kelly green and hung in long wispy layers that flipped out like feathers.
“He feels so soft,” Sophie said, rubbing Iggy’s tummy and triggering his squeaky purr.
“That’s because I mixed the Greenleaf elixir with some Floof,” Dex told her. “I picked the color for Forkle—or I guess I should say it’s for the Forkle we lost. Hope you don’t mind. I had time to kill.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Grady just told me you were up here.”
Before Dex could answer, Iggy unleashed a ground-shaking fart that filled the whole room with the choking stench of rotting grass.
“Ugh, it’s a good thing he’s cute,” Sophie grumbled.
“I could bottle that smell and make the ultimate stink bomb,” Dex agreed. “But I’m a little afraid of what would happen if Keefe got ahold of it.”
“Probably better if we don’t unleash that havoc upon the world. Oh! But that kinda reminds me—did you ever hack into Keefe’s dad’s registry file and see if he could’ve helped Keefe’s mom escape?”
Dex frowned. “I did, but his feed looked normal. Just lots of trips to Atlantis. He definitely didn’t go anywhere near the prison. Why?”
Sophie sighed. “Well . . . I guess that’s not surprising. But can you check his feed again? Keefe said it looks like his dad’s not staying at Candleshade, and I want to know where he is.”
It also seemed like a good idea to add find out how Lady Gisela escaped to their never-ending list. If Keefe’s mom had someone helping her, they needed to know who.
“I’ll hack into his records again tomorrow,” Dex promised. “Might as well do something useful.”
Sophie rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him on the carpet. “Do you really need me to give the ‘you have the most important job’ speech again?”
“I dunno. It is one of my favorites. And I am working on the cache, by the way. It’s just insanely complicated.”
“I know. If it makes you feel any better, Lady Cadence only agreed to take me, Keefe, and someone from the Collective to Ravagog tomorrow. She booted out Tam, Biana, and Della—something about not bringing thieves into her friend’s castle. According to her, Dimitar will give us the starstone if I prove my value in some sort of challenge.”
“Uh . . . is it me, or does that not sound good?”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” Sophie admitted. “But if it helps us find Nightfall, it’ll be worth it.”
“I guess. Is Sandor freaking out?” Dex glanced toward her open door, where her bodyguard’s usual post was empty.
“Actually, he didn’t put up that big of a fight. I think he’s more focused on setting traps to catch Lady Gisela tomorrow. Or maybe he figures the challenge can’t be more dangerous than trying to steal the starstone?”
Dex fussed with the flowers on the carpet. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . you don’t think Fitz should go with you, so you guys could go all Cognate—RAWR?”
“Cognate—RAWR? Is that the technical term?”
“I mean, I can talk about the ‘staring into each other’s eyes’ thing if you really want me to.”
Sophie held Iggy close and whispered, “Feel free to go fart on him.”
Instead, Iggy blinked his watery green eyes and unleashed a belly-shaking burp.
“I guess I brought that on myself,” she muttered, carrying the stinky imp over to his cage. “Besides, I doubt Dimitar would ever assign a challenge where my abilities gave me an advantage.”
“Probably true.” Dex stood, stretching his legs. “Well . . . if it gets ugly, you’ll have your panic switch. Though I’m not sure how I’d get to Ravagog to help.”
“We’ll be fine. We’re doing things Lady Cadence’s way, and she always seems to handle King Dimitar without a massive disaster.”
“Let’s hope. But just in case, I made you something—and I know it’s probably going to seem a little weird at first, so hear me out.”
He reached into his cape pocket and handed her two thick black wristbands made of soft fabric, with silver snaps and big silver embroidered words—which made Sophie choke.
“Um . . . Why do these say ‘Sophie Foster + Dex Dizznee’?”
Dex’s grin was enormous. “Because crush cuffs make the best camouflage.”
Twenty-six
OUCH,” DEX MUMBLED, “you don’t have to look that horrified.”
“I’m not horrified,” Sophie promised, barely stopping herself from dropping the crush cuffs. “I just . . .”
How on earth was she supposed to explain this?
There’d been times when Dex had made her wonder if maybe . . .
But she’d always shrugged it off, or pretended not to notice. And lately he’d been better—way less pouty and pushy—which had been a relief, because Dex was sweet and hilarious and brilliant and a million other awesome things.
But, he was just a friend.
“Relax,” Dex told her. “Like I said, the cuffs are only for camouflage. Remember when I told you I’d build a gadget to block your enhancing? I figured that might be a good thing for you to have in Ravagog, in case Dimitar makes you take off your gloves.”
He clicked a hidden latch on one of the snaps, flipping back the top to show a ton of intricate circuitry.
“See? I designed these microtransmitters to put a force field around your hands so that anyone touching your skin isn’t actually making contact—and it’s a nonreactive force field, so you won’t zap anyone if you touch them. But we should probably test it, to make sure everything’s working.”
Sophie peeled off her gloves in a daze and snapped on the cuffs, which fit snug, resting right where her wrists ended and her hands began.
“They aren’t too tight, right?” he asked, tugging on the fabric. “I didn’t want them sliding down your arm, in case that weakened the force field, but I don’t want them cutting off your circulation either. And I went with snaps because you can pull them off way faster than a button or a clasp.”
She tried to focus on the practical points he was making, which truly did make a lot of sense. But all she could think about was how anyone who saw her wearing them would assume that she and Dex were . . . well, something they weren’t.
“Ready to test them?” he asked.
When she nodded, he grabbed both of her hands, and Sophie pressed her fingertips against his skin, half hoping she’d feel the familiar warm tingle and be able to call the whole thing a fail.
But Dex pumped his fist. “Woo! I don’t feel anything!”
Why—WHY—did he have to be such a talented Technopath?
He held on a few seconds longer, then checked the snaps again. “Everything looks okay. But it’s probably a good idea to wear gloves tomorrow too, since I threw all of this together a couple of hours ago and there might still be some glitches. I’ll make something more permanent now that I know the concept works.”
“OH!” Sophie let loose a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. “So these are only temporary?”
She could live with temporary.
Maybe she could even turn them inside out in the meantime.
“And you’ll make the permanent ones with normal bracelets, right?” she added.
“Why? They’d be way more noticeable. Crush cuffs are one of the only things people never take off.”
“They also never tak
e off nexuses,” Sophie reminded him. “Wasn’t that what you said you’d use to make these?”
“That was the plan. But nexuses have complicated clasps—and even when I simplified the latches as much as I could, they were still way harder to take off than these. Isn’t it smarter to have something you can snap off super quick in case you need to enhance someone in a hurry—and put back on really easily when you’re done?”
Unfortunately, he had a point.
“Well . . . what if we went with a plain cloth bracelet, then?” she asked.
“I don’t think anyone makes those. Cloth bracelets are always crush cuffs. If they don’t have names on them, it’ll look super weird.”
She shrugged. “I have brown eyes and grew up with humans. Everyone expects me to be weird.”
“Right, but I thought you also didn’t want to have people asking questions about your hands. Isn’t that why you’re dressing all fancy now, so the gloves won’t stand out?”
She really wished he’d stop making such well-reasoned arguments! It meant she only had one option left, and it was the extra, extra, extra, extra, extra awkward one.
She stared at her wrist, tracing her finger over the giant silver letters—which felt like they were somehow getting bigger. “If people see me wearing these, won’t they think we’re . . .”
She couldn’t make herself say it.
He shrugged. “I guess some might think I’m your hopeful—but that’s just a matchmaking thing. People give out the cuffs before they register, like they’re trying to tell the matchmakers, ‘Pair me with them!’ It’s not like the matchmakers listen. All they care about are genetics and abilities.”
Dex had admitted once that he wasn’t sure if he’d be registering for the match, or if he’d refuse, to protest the way they’d treated his parents—and Sophie honestly hadn’t decided if she’d be doing the same. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being told who she was allowed to love.
“It’s just people’s way of feeling like they have a little control over their lists, even though they don’t,” Dex added. “The cuffs don’t actually mean anything.”
And yet, Fitz hadn’t worn any of the cuffs he’d been given as midterm gifts.
And Biana didn’t wear any.
Or Keefe.
Or Tam and Linh.
Or Jensi.
Even Marella, with all of her flirtiness, didn’t have a pair.
“It’s going to start a bunch of rumors, Dex,” she said carefully.
“So? They already say all kinds of stuff about both of us.”
“Right, but . . .” She grasped for something—anything—that would be gentler than we’re not hopefuls—feeling her heart lighten when she realized there was one last, desperate protest.
“We’re cousins,” she finished.
Dex blinked.
Then he cracked up.
“That’s what’s bothering you? We’re not actually cousins, Sophie. Everyone knows you’re adopted.”
“I know. But technically your mom is my mom’s sister. Won’t that freak people out?”
“Nah. We’re not genetically related—and honestly, do you ever think of me as Cousin Dex?”
“No,” she begrudgingly admitted. “But—”
“You’re way overthinking this,” he told her. “Did you freak out this much when Fitz gave you rings with his initials on them?”
“Those are a Cognate thing.”
“Maybe. But not all Cognates have them. And I’ve heard people gossip about you guys because of them.”
Really?
That definitely did not help her queasiness.
“So if you’re fine with that,” Dex continued, “why—”
“I never said I was,” Sophie interrupted.
“Okay, but if I ordered new crush cuffs with Fitz’s name on them and used them for the next batch . . .”
“It would still feel super weird,” Sophie finished.
And it would.
For different reasons—but he didn’t need to know that.
“Would it feel weird if Fitz was the one to give them to you?” Dex pressed.
She hated herself for blushing at the thought. “We’re not talking about a hypothetical. We’re talking about this.” She pointed to the names on her cuffs again—which seriously had to be getting bigger.
Astronauts could probably read them from space.
“Is it really so bad to have people think you want the option of dating me?” Dex asked without looking at her. “That’s all a hopeful really means. It’s just a possibility—that’s it.”
When he put it that way, it didn’t sound as scary.
But . . . giving him the answer he needed still felt like agreeing to a whole lot more.
She stared at the intricate embroidery, trying to think of anything she could say to dig her way out of this mess, but her mind kept circling back to something Dex had already said—something she probably shouldn’t keep poking at, but . . . she had to know.
“So. Crush cuffs have to be ordered in advance?”
“Yeah. It takes a few days for them to customize the names. Why?”
Because he’d said he threw the gadgets together for her that day . . .
Somehow Dex managed to pale and flush. “I’ve, uh . . . I’ve been planning to use crush cuffs for this for a while. And . . . I put my name because . . . I thought it’d be funny—that’s it.”
She wanted to believe him.
It would’ve been so much easier if she could.
But he was too fidgety. And he wouldn’t look at her. And she could see sweat trickling down his forehead as he backed a few steps away.
“Dex,” she said gently. “I—”
“It’s fine, okay?” He pulled so hard at the bottom button on his jerkin that it popped off in his hand. “Just drop it.”
She wished she could. Every alarm siren in her head was screaming, DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!
But deep down, she could feel that this time was different.
They’d torn something open—exposed something raw and deep. And if she tried to pretend they hadn’t—let him walk out of this room without patching it up—their friendship would never be the same.
And Dex was worth fighting for—worth wading neck deep into the terrifying, embarrassing muck, if it gave her a shot at saving what really mattered.
She just didn’t know how.
Words would only hurt. But what else was there?
“Maybe . . . it’s time for a trust exercise,” she decided after what felt like an eternity.
“I’m not a Telepath,” he mumbled miserably.
“No,” Sophie said, “but you’re my best friend. And this is important.”
Nerves tangled up in her throat as an idea took shape—one of those all-in kinds of plans that could far too easily backfire into a nightmare of unparalleled proportions.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that there’s a really easy way to settle this—once and for all.”
“Settle what?” Dex asked.
“That’s where the trust comes in,” she said. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
She put her hands on her hips, tapping one foot until he obeyed.
“Fine, my eyes are closed now, happy?”
“Terrified” was a better description.
But one final look at the crush cuffs had Sophie taking a slow step forward. Then another.
She could do this. She just had to think of it as . . . an experiment.
And maybe she was a little curious.
“What are you doing?” Dex asked as she closed the last of the distance between them.
“Just testing something.”
She found herself marveling again at how much taller he was than the boy she’d first met, and took one deep breath for courage—then another to steady her nerves.
When she couldn’t stall any longer, she tilted up on her toes and leaned in, lingering a hairsbreadth away, so he’d have the optio
n of pushing her back if he wanted.
He didn’t.
So she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.
TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WASN’T A movie-worthy kiss—that was for sure.
Their noses bumped. Sophie’s lips felt too dry. And Dex started out with a startled squeak.
Then for one truly horrifying moment, it almost felt like he wasn’t going to kiss her back.
But he did kiss her back.
And that made it . . .
So much worse.
He reached for her face, but his fingers somehow ended up tangled in her hair. And his knees crashed into hers, nearly knocking them both over.
The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds, but all Sophie could think was, Is it over yet?
And then it was.
And they stood there, staring at each other.
And it was so, so awkward.
Dex’s eyes were stretched wide and his breathing was way too fast and Sophie couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or burst into nervous giggles. She settled for covering her mouth with her hand.
“You kissed me,” Dex eventually whispered.
All she could do was nod.
He reached for his lips, brushing his fingers across them. “I . . . always imagined it different than that.”
“Different how?”
He stumbled over to her bed and sank onto the edge. “I don’t know.”
Seconds crawled by.
“Don’t hate me,” he mumbled, “but . . . didn’t it feel weird?”
Relief flared, even as the words gave Sophie’s pride a good hard smack.
“I’m not saying it was bad,” he added quickly. “It’s just . . .”
“There was no spark,” Sophie finished for him.
“Yeah.” His relief faded to a wince. “Does that mean I’m a terrible kisser?”
“I don’t think it’s you.”
“Well, it wasn’t you.” The conviction in his voice made her blush.
He brushed his finger across his lips again, staring blankly at the wall. “I just couldn’t stop thinking the whole time, you know? I kept worrying my breath was bad or trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with my hands. And, I mean, I always knew it’d be awkward at first, but I’d figured at some point all of that would drop away and I’d just sorta . . . feel.”