Flashback ( PDFDrive )

“Okay, how were you not in the final round of the Splotching
Championship?” she demanded. “Did you let Fitz win?”
“Psh, like I’d ever do that!”
“I don’t know . . . ,” Ro told him—and he sent her a death glare.
“That’s different,” he insisted.
“Not really,” she grumbled. “But it’s your call.”
“It is,” he agreed, dodging Sophie’s latest mental lunge, despite his
distraction.
“Seriously, how are you so good at this?” she asked.
He grinned and lowered the knot, dangling it under her nose the
same way she used to taunt her cat with a strip of ribbon. “Let’s just
say I’ve been practicing.”
She gathered her energy for an all-out pounce, determined to beat
him, when she realized what he probably meant.
“You’re talking about the training you did with the Neverseen,
aren’t you?”
Keefe’s smile fell.
So did the knotted bandage, which plopped into her lap with a
muffled thud.
“Some of the training’s from Foxfire,” he said slowly, “but . . .”
“It’s okay,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter who taught you.”
And she meant it.
In fact, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this earlier.
“Did they teach you any tricks?” she asked. “Or was it just all the
practice that made you better?”
“Both,” he said, looking squirmy.
But that was the answer she’d been hoping for.