“He’s right,” Lady Cadence whispered. “We’ll circle back to these conversations later. Right now we need to focus. You need that starstone to find your parents, don’t you?”
Sophie let out a breath as she nodded.
“Then we’d best get moving,” Lady Cadence said, heading toward the crevice.
Blur turned to follow—but Sophie grabbed Keefe’s arm to stop him from doing the same.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, before she could launch into the tirade she’d been planning. “I feel that cloud of Foster Fury loud and clear. And you can hate me if you want. But I made a promise when I found out my mom was with the Neverseen—she only gets to hurt me. It’s the only way I can live with myself.”
His voice was raw—his arm trembling in hers—and Sophie realized he’d just let another mask slip.
She knew the funny, teasing Keefe.
And she’d seen glimpses of the scared, angry boy he hid underneath.
But beyond all of that was this new boy, broken into sharp, painful pieces. And the only thing holding him together was his determination to fix this mess they were caught up in.
“Keefe—”
“Sophie! Keefe! Get over here right now!” Lady Cadence commanded.
“We’re not done,” Sophie told Keefe, letting go of his arm as she turned to head toward the crevice.
His voice sounded especially small as he mumbled, “I hope not.”
By the time they reached the rest of their group, the tension between King Dimitar and Lady Cadence seemed far less palpable. Sophie hoped that meant the king would be feeling more cooperative as he led them into the ominous gap in the mountain.
All other thoughts dropped away as the darkness melted into the vibrancy of the palace.
The main cavern was massive, with a ceiling so high, Sophie wondered if it stretched all the way to the mountaintop—though the height was broken up by long, needle-thin stalactites tipped with tiny glowing orbs. Each of the stone pillars supporting the cavern had been carved differently—some tall and twisted, others squat and robust—and they all glowed with colors unlike anything Sophie had ever seen. There were no names for the shades and tones—no comparison she could make to anything that existed. It felt as if they’d stepped into a new universe, walking on a sleek floor that brightened wherever their feet stepped down.
“Is this Foxfire?” she asked, squinting at the tiny illuminated specks glowing across an especially wide pillar.
Dimitar snorted. “You elves and your glowing fungus. You’ve always been so dazzled by glitter and light, you never think to see what’s lurking in the dark—not that you can find these microorganisms anywhere but here.”
“So this is bacteria, then?” Blur asked, scooting away from the pillars when Lady Cadence nodded.
“Also amoebas,” King Dimitar added. “And protozoa. We utilize all manner of microorganism.”
“Is that why it smells so . . . special?” Keefe asked.
The air was somehow both disgustingly sour and cloyingly sweet, like curdled milk stirred with extra-sugary frosting. And it felt thicker, like Sophie could chew her breath—which was not a pleasant sensation.
Dimitar sighed. “This air is some of the healthiest air you’ll ever breathe, and yet you turn up your noses at it.”
“I never found any evidence that these enzymes brought any improvement for elves,” Lady Cadence reminded him.
“And I suppose if something doesn’t benefit you, you assign it no value?” Dimitar countered.
Lady Cadence shrugged. “Don’t pretend you don’t do the same.”
King Dimitar didn’t argue her point, instead leading their group down the narrowest and darkest of all the hallways branching off the main square—a path lit only by a single strand of dangling orbs, each radiating the same otherworldly colors. As they walked, Lady Cadence explained that the palace was designed to fool intruders, so the important paths intentionally looked neglected and unimpressive. Any routes that reeked of opulence led only to traps.
The hall wound back and forth, the floor sloping down as they walked, until Sophie was certain they were heading for the dungeons. But when the long corridor ended, they found themselves in an even more spectacular cavern, where smoothed stalagmites stretched out of the ground in sharp angles and met in the middle, forming a path lined with sloped arches that glowed with a light that almost felt alive—probably because it was. Millions of tiny pricks of color were in constant motion, swirling and shifting and casting soft illumination on the two enormous thrones stationed on a raised dais in the center of the room.
“Two?” Sophie asked, not necessarily meaning to say it out loud.
“Yes,” King Dimitar said, his expression almost amused. “Did you not expect me to have a queen?”
The thought definitely hadn’t crossed Sophie’s mind. Maybe she’d spent too long around the forever-unwed Councillors.
“You’ve never mentioned her,” she said in her defense.
“I’ve never mentioned many things. Especially when it comes to my private life. The more your enemies know, the more they can exploit.”
“We’re not your enemies,” Lady Cadence assured him.
“Is that so?” Dimitar turned his attention back to Sophie. “Tell me, is my palace how you imagined it? Or were you picturing bloodstained walls and halls littered with bones?”
“You can’t judge her for biases that you yourself have perpetrated,” Lady Cadence interceded. “There’s a reason you keep this palace private—even from the majority of your own people. Just as there’s a reason that Queen Gundula doesn’t sit at your side in the Triad when you render judgment, or accompany you on diplomatic missions. You’ve chosen exactly how you wish to present yourself as leader.”
Dimitar’s jaw tightened. “You know nothing of what I wish.”
“I’m open to being enlightened.”
“I’m sure you are,” Dimitar said, stalking over to the wider throne, which seemed to be carved from a single massive boulder. Whatever microorganisms were on the stone reacted to his presence, blaring with a pure white glow as he plopped into the seat. “But that’s not why you came here today,” he added, turning to Keefe. “Let’s not waste each other’s time pretending you’re not going to give that message.”
“None of us know what it says,” Keefe warned as he handed over the tiny black scroll. “So don’t blame us if it’s annoying.”
“Knowing your mother I fully expect it to be.”
The seals made a strange sort of buzz when King Dimitar broke through, and thin wisps of smoke swirled around the paper, which was shorter than Sophie had imagined—scarcely longer than one of Dimitar’s fingers.
She couldn’t breathe while Dimitar read, trying not to imagine him pulling out his shamkniv and carving gashes into all of them.
But the king didn’t so much as blink before he rolled the scroll back up and stuffed it into the waistband of his diaper.
“Am I to assume you won’t tell us what she requests?” Lady Cadence asked.
“Who said it’s a request?”
“Because it’s my mom,” Keefe said, “and she always wants something.”
“I’m well aware of her greed.” His fists tightened on the arms of his throne. “If you must know, she’s offering information on which of my guards helped her escape my prison. Now that she no longer needs their assistance, she has no problem betraying them.”
“Sounds about right,” Keefe muttered.
Dimitar shrugged one shoulder. “She’s a survivor. Some part of me can appreciate that.”
“But the other part has to know she’s going to want something in exchange for the information,” Sophie told him.
“She made that abundantly clear—and I’m still deciding whether or not I’ll give it.”
“Don’t do it,” Keefe warned. “There’s always a trick.”
“Strange advice coming from the boy who shed his own blood and dragged his friends to this
meeting on her word—and her word alone—that I have a certain item in my possession. What makes you so sure she was telling the truth?”
“Are you saying you don’t have it?” Sophie asked, barely able to scrape together enough voice for the words.
If he didn’t . . .
If they couldn’t get to Nightfall . . .
“He has it,” Lady Cadence assured her.
“Do I?”
Lady Cadence nodded, dipping a brief curtsy before approaching the throne. She slid her fingers along the edge of the arm until a soft click opened a secret latch in the stone.
Dimitar crossed his arms. “I don’t remember telling you about that compartment.”
“You didn’t.”
The king’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he reached in and pulled out a palm-length silver stick with a white stone tucked into a nest of intricate silver swirls at the end.
“I’ll admit, I hardly see the value of such a trinket,” he told Sophie. “But I suppose you elves do love shiny things.”
Sophie could barely focus.
There.
Right there was the first piece she needed to find her parents.
All she’d have to do is reach out and grab it—or snatch it with her mind, using telekinesis.
But King Dimitar kept a tight grip—and his other hand lay ready by his sword.
“What do you want?” Sophie asked.
“Things you cannot give.”
“Try me,” she told him. “I’m up for any challenge you want me to face.”
“I see Cadence has prepared you well—though I wonder if she gave you an accurate picture of what to expect?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sophie told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Or we could form an alliance,” Lady Cadence jumped in, “and skip this drastic waste of time.”
Dimitar raised one eyebrow. “You honestly think that ogres and elves could side together?”
“For the right cause, yes. And with the right leaders to guide them.”
“Funny, I don’t see any members of your Council here. So either you don’t consider them to be valuable leaders, or that’s who’s hiding under there.” He pointed to Blur’s smudged form.
Blur laughed. “Definitely not.”
“And I never said a valuable leader,” Lady Cadence added. “I said the right leaders. The Black Swan has its own brand of authority—a kind of power that can act much quicker, and keep a more open mind.”
“Yes, I relied on a similar authority when I made my ties with the Neverseen.”
“We’re stronger than they are,” Blur told him. “But I think you already know that. Otherwise your city wouldn’t be undergoing repairs.”
Dimitar unsheathed his blade. “Do not speak of those losses so casually!”
“You realize you can’t kill me with that, right?” Blur leaped forward, slamming his smudged chest into the spiked blade—which slipped through his indistinct form without drawing a single drop of blood. “Bet you wish your soldiers could do this, huh?”
“Actually, I prefer they learn to fight, instead of relying on gimmicks that breed overconfidence,” Dimitar told him.
“Our abilities are not gimmicks,” Blur snapped back.
“And yet, if I wanted you dead, it would be the work of only a moment to make it happen,” Dimitar warned.
“Let’s not focus on our differences,” Lady Cadence stepped in, forcing Blur to back up. Dimitar reluctantly resheathed his sword. “I realize we may all find the idea uncomfortable—but we need each other. The Black Swan has proven to be a resourceful organization, but time and again, its efforts to stop the Neverseen have failed. And you’re a good king, Dimitar. Someday I hope you’ll become a great one. But your authority is slipping. If you’re not careful, your world will dissolve into full-fledged rebellion.”
“And how is uniting with an organization that you’ve just admitted is failing going to change any of that?” Dimitar wanted to know.
“Because we’ll be each other’s balance. I’m not saying it will be easy. But together, we will be stronger.”
“And if your Council disagrees?”
“If we start small, they’ll go along.”
“Small,” Dimitar repeated, reaching up and twirling the stone set into his earlobe. “And what small thing would you expect from this so-called alliance?”
“Whatever you’re willing to give. We’ll treat it as a trial run, to see how things come together. And if it works, we’ll look into building on it.”
“A trial,” Dimitar said, holding up the starstone, letting it flash blue in the cavern’s eerie light. “Isn’t that what we were already discussing?”
“I’m looking for more than a hairpin,” Lady Cadence countered, and Sophie had to force herself not to argue.
She had to remember that finding her parents was only one of their current problems, and likely one of the smaller ones.
“I suppose it will depend on how well you fare in the challenge,” Dimitar said, his pointed teeth gleaming. “Feeling brave, little girl?”
“If it gets us the starstone.” Sophie’s voice cracked more than she wanted, but she at least managed not to flinch—even when Dimitar rose from his throne and whipped out his sword.
“I believe you,” he said, slashing the spiked end under Sophie’s nose. “So, I challenge you to a sparring match.”
“Sparring?” Lady Cadence, Keefe, and Blur all seemed to ask on top of each other.
King Dimitar grinned. “First to draw blood three times wins.”
“Sophie’s not a warr—”
“She’s not,” King Dimitar interrupted. “But she doesn’t need to be. After all, we have a Mercadir to handle these things for her, remember?”
He pointed his blade toward Keefe. “You spilled your own blood to get here—now show me you can spill mine. And if you can’t, pain will be the least of your worries.”
Thirty-two
I GOT THIS,” Keefe said, for what had to be the tenth time as they followed King Dimitar through another palace tunnel. It seemed even darker than the last one—or maybe that was Sophie’s mood.
“You don’t,” she told him before she turned to Lady Cadence. “You can stop this, can’t you?”
Lady Cadence shook her head. “Dimitar has named his terms.”
“Then let Blur steal the starstone and—”
“I can hear you,” Dimitar warned, even though she’d been whispering and he was far ahead. “And you’d never get out of my palace, much less down the river past all of my guards.”
“You might be surprised,” Blur told him.
“No, you’d be surprised by how much security this palace has,” Lady Cadence corrected. “Beneath our feet is an entire barracks of soldiers ready to spring into action. Besides—we didn’t come here to steal.”
“We didn’t come here to die, either,” Sophie snapped back.
“It’s a sparring match,” Keefe told her. “He’s not going to kill me.”
He glanced at Dimitar, who gave a pointed-tooth smile that knocked the grin off Keefe’s lips.
“The bloodshed will be kept to a minimum,” Lady Cadence reassured them.
“I don’t know about a minimum,” Dimitar corrected. “But . . . if he’s smart, he should be able to walk out of the ring after he loses. And if he’s foolish, he should be able to crawl to one of your medics.”
“Even if I am crawling,” Keefe said, his voice strong, despite how pale he was turning, “I won’t be losing.”
They’d reached their destination by then—another enormous cavern lit by four glowing obelisks in the corners. The walls were adorned with an abundance of metal items that would’ve looked perfectly at home in a museum—or a torture chamber: blades of all shapes and sizes, some gleaming, others disturbingly splattered with brown and red. Clubs. Axes. Spears. Metal orbs covered in spikes. All manner of terrifying hooks.
The rest of the space was empt
y, save for a large circle in the center filled with a glistening layer of—
“Salt,” Dimitar said, following Sophie’s stare. “Gives the same traction as sand—with the added bonus that if you knock your opponent down, you can press it into their wounds. Ample motivation to stay on your feet, don’t you think?”
Bile rose in Sophie’s throat.
“Elves are not warriors,” Lady Cadence told him. “As you well know.”
“And yet for years I’ve been led to believe that you make up for your lack of military training with your other advantages,” Dimitar countered. “Aren’t those abilities of yours supposed to be important?”
“Keefe’s an Empath,” Sophie jumped in. “All he can do is tell you what you’re feeling.”
Dimitar grinned again. “How unfortunate for him. Though that does improve my mood.”
“It’ll be fine,” Keefe told Sophie. “I’m basically undefeated at tackle bramble.”
“This isn’t a game, Keefe—and you can’t cheat.”
“I never cheat.” His wink said otherwise.
“It won’t help,” Dimitar warned. “Once we step into the ring, we do not leave until the match has a winner. Step one toe outside the salt and I get a free strike. First to draw blood three times is the champion. And I’m not completely unreasonable,” he added to Lady Cadence. “Usually we spar with swords, but I doubt his skinny arms could support the weight—”
“My arms aren’t skinny,” Keefe argued, pulling back his sleeve and flexing what looked like a well-defined bicep—until King Dimitar did the same, revealing muscles bigger than watermelons.
“I also won’t use the grusom-daj,” Dimitar said, referring to an ogre mind trick that seemed to cause as much pain as an Inflictor. “And I’ll allow him to keep his pants.”
“Um . . . what was that last one?” Keefe asked.
“Sparrers generally expose the same amount of skin, to ensure they have equal targets,” Lady Cadence explained. “So you should have to wear what he’s wearing.”
“I’ll settle for you removing everything from the waist up,” King Dimitar added.
“Phew,” Keefe said, unfastening his cape. “That diaper looks like it would cause some serious chafing.”
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