Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8)

by Shannon Messenger

  “Places of peace are generally the most vulnerable,” Sandor countered, gripping the hilt of his sword. But he kept the blade sheathed when he strode through the doorway.

  Sophie expected his body to be swallowed by the shadows, but as soon as Sandor crossed the threshold, a thread of fuzzy grayish light flared around him, forming a spotlight that looked like he was standing in the center of a glowing lasso.

  A similar light coiled around Grady when he followed—except his glow was orange.

  Sophie’s was vivid red.

  “Do the colors mean something?” she asked when she noticed the way Grady was studying her.

  He nodded. “Different talents flare in different shades. And given your multiple abilities, I’d assumed your light would be nearly white, from the spectrum blending together. Or if one ability was going to dominate, I’d figured you’d glow blue, like the other Telepaths.”

  “Which ability is red?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she could guess.

  “I think it’s inflicting—but the Councillors always glow silver when they’re here, to ensure they present as equals, so I’ve never seen what shade Bronte would flare on his own.”

  Sophie sighed.

  She wasn’t a huge fan of her inflicting ability, given how intense the power was—and how impossible it was to control. And it definitely didn’t help that now it made her look like some sort of possessed girl from a human horror movie.

  “Come on, kiddo,” Grady said, hooking an arm around her shoulders. “The Council’s waiting.”

  Sandor kept his place in the lead, and Sophie had no idea how he knew which way to go. Even with their strange spotlights, the darkness remained so thick that she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her in any direction.

  “Not saying I don’t appreciate the ominous aesthetic they have going on here,” she said after several minutes of walking. “But isn’t this kind of a waste of space?”

  Also a waste of time—but she stopped herself from saying that in case the Council was somehow listening. This process was already taking much longer than she’d wanted, and it technically hadn’t even started yet.

  “The design is meant to ensure that by the time we reach the main chambers, we’ve cleared our minds of everything except the reason we’re here,” Grady explained—which she was absolutely failing at. “Serving in the nobility means disconnecting from your daily life and fully immersing yourself in your duties to the Council. I realize that may be extra challenging for you,” he added, obviously knowing her way too well. “You’re carrying a ton of truly daunting responsibilities—more than I probably know about. But try to remember that what we’re here to discuss could help with some of those problems—if you decide you feel comfortable accepting the appointment, that is.”

  “I know. It’s just…” Sophie’s voice trailed off as the fuzzy glow of another spotlight became visible up ahead.

  The light looked white from a distance, but as they drew closer, it took on a greenish tint. And when the figure in the center finally came into focus…

  “Dex?” Sophie whispered, blinking to make sure the strawberry-blond boy with periwinkle eyes wasn’t some sort of mirage. “What are you doing here?”

  “No idea,” he admitted with a smile that was a tad too nervous to reach his dimples. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Are you here alone?” Grady asked.

  The answer seemed pretty obvious, given that there were no other spotlights—until a familiar female voice declared, “Nope!” and Biana appeared next to Dex in a halo of flickering violet light.

  Her magenta gown was much simpler than the styles Biana usually favored. The only adornment was an embroidered teal sash that matched her stunning eyes—not that it stopped Biana from looking more glamorous and gorgeous than anyone else ever could. The gown was also sleeveless, with a V-shaped neckline that left the scars on Biana’s arms, shoulders, and back prominently displayed. She’d hidden the marks for a while, but now she didn’t look the least bit bothered by the way the thin, jagged lines almost glowed in the strange lighting. And it made Sophie want to hug her really, really hard.

  “How did you guys get into this building?” Grady asked them.

  “And where are your bodyguards?” Sandor demanded. Biana was notorious for ditching poor Woltzer, but Dex and Lovise usually stuck together.

  “They weren’t invited,” a third voice said as another violet spotlight flickered to life and Della appeared next to her daughter wearing a peacock blue gown with shimmering gold beading that was almost as stunningly beautiful as she was.

  Sandor muttered something about Vanishers as Sophie clutched her chest. But her racing pulse had more to do with the possibility of a blue spotlight appearing in the darkness.

  “Fitz wasn’t invited either,” Biana told her, guessing why Sophie was scanning the shadows. “And boy, was he pouty about it. He’s going to flip when he finds out you were here.”

  Dex’s grin shifted to full dimple mode. “Can I be the one to tell him?”

  Sophie shot him a glare that hopefully said Don’t start before she turned to Grady. “Why didn’t you tell me they’d be here?”

  “I didn’t know,” Grady promised.

  “Neither did we, until about an hour ago,” Della said, adjusting one of the jeweled combs she’d set into her dark, wavy hair. “A messenger showed up at Everglen with a scroll telling me to pick up Dex from Rimeshire and bring him and Biana here by midday.”

  “We received a similar summons,” an equally familiar—but much less friendly—voice huffed behind them.

  Sophie’s jaw locked as she spun around to find two tall figures striding toward them, lit by baby pink spotlights: Vika Heks, in a fitted yellow gown that matched her sour expression. And her daughter, Stina, whose gown was covered in so many jewels, it probably weighed more than she did.

  “What’s the matter, Foster?” Stina asked, tossing her curly hair and crossing her bony arms. “You didn’t think you’re the only one who gets special messages from the Council, did you? Or are you just mad that neither of your boyfriends seem to have made the guest list?”

  “That’s true,” Dex murmured. “Keefe’s not here. If he was, I’m sure he’d have a lot to say about his pretty pink spotlight.”

  Biana giggled. “Maybe he’s on his way.”

  “Ro won’t let him come, even if he is invited,” Sophie realized, then transmitted to Dex and Biana, It’s a long story. I saw Mr. Forkle yesterday and… there’s a lot going on—I promise I’ll catch you up on everything as soon as we’re done here, before she turned back to Stina and added, “and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “You don’t?” Della asked, then flushed and shook her head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  Sophie wished she could.

  She also wished she hadn’t noticed the way Biana was frowning at her.

  Or how relieved Grady looked.

  Or the way Stina was smirking like a cat that had just trapped a tiny, helpless bird.

  “Did your invitations explain why the Council was calling you here?” Grady asked Della and Vika, mercifully changing the subject.

  “Ours didn’t,” yet another voice announced behind them.

  Everyone turned to find Sir Tiergan illuminated by a spotlight that glowed in the same deep blue as his eyes. The bold color somehow made the contrast between his olive complexion and pale blond hair look even more severe than usual, but the effect softened when he offered Sophie a kind smile.

  “It wasn’t an invitation,” his adopted son, Wylie, corrected, tugging on the front of his sunset-toned cape. “It was an order.” Wylie’s spotlight shifted colors with the words: peach one second, yellow the next, then purple—each halo so bright that it tinted his dark skin the same shade—and Sophie couldn’t tell if that was happening naturally, or if Wylie was using his ability as a Flasher to control it. “And some of us had things we needed to do today.”


  He turned to pace, and Sophie understood his impatience. But now he had her worried that something was going on that she didn’t know about—maybe with his father—or Linh.

  “What did you need to do?” she asked.

  Wylie glanced at the others before he shook his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Stina snorted. “It’s cute how you think we care about your boring secrets. We don’t.”

  “Let’s hope that will not always be the case,” a rich, velvety voice boomed from somewhere in the shadows, making everyone suck in a breath.

  The words reverberated through the room as twelve spotlights flared in a wide circle around their group, illuminating each of the Councillors with a nearly blinding halo of silver. Sophie was usually able to tell the Councillors apart, since they comprised a wide mix of skin colors and hairstyles and facial features. But between the strange lighting and their matching outfits, they looked eerily alike. Their tailored silver suits and pulled-back hair even made it hard to distinguish between the different genders. And they were wearing identical diamond crowns instead of their individual gemstone circlets.

  Their long silver cloaks were all pinned with clasps shaped like glowing golden keys—a style Sophie had only seen the Councillors wear one other time. The day she moved to the Lost Cities and found herself facing a test that decided her future with the elves.

  Her stomach turned very flippy at the reminder, and she scanned each of the Councillors’ faces, searching for Oralie—one of her strongest allies on the Council—finally picking her out on the right side of the circle thanks to a soft blond ringlet that had broken free from her tight bun.

  But Oralie didn’t look her way.

  And there was something off about her expression—a strange tension in her pretty features. As if she were as anxious to be done with this process as Sophie was.

  “Welcome to the Seat of Eminence,” Councillor Emery said as the spotlights dimmed enough to make the Councillors more recognizable. All heads turned toward the dark-skinned elf who served as spokesperson for the Council, and his sapphire eyes flicked from face to face as he stepped forward and folded his hands. “We apologize for the somewhat last-minute nature of this meeting, and realize that you all likely have many questions about why we’ve brought you here—particularly since this place is accessible only to those who bear titles for the oaths they’ve sworn to our service. And that is not changing, in case you were wondering. Those of you who required an escort to gain access today will not be permitted to visit again, unless you have a title of your own.”

  Vika gasped. “Does that mean…?”

  Her voice choked off when Emery cleared his throat.

  “I’ll explain what it means in a moment,” he told her. “But first, we must verify something.” His gaze turned to Sophie. “Is it safe to assume, Miss Foster, that your father has explained his reason for bringing you here?”

  Sophie nodded, fighting the urge to duck behind Grady.

  “And will you be accepting our offer?” Emery asked.

  Every single bit of moisture in Sophie’s mouth evaporated. “I… thought you guys were going to give me more information about what you need me to do before I had to decide.”

  “We will be happy to answer your questions. But certain things have changed, and we need to know if you’re interested before we continue.”

  Sophie glanced at Grady for help.

  “No one has ever had to make an oath with so little information,” he reminded the Councillors.

  “We’re not asking for her oath. We’re asking if she’s willing,” Emery clarified, which… didn’t actually sound all that different to Sophie. “And we’re asking now, because if she isn’t, there’s no point in continuing with any of this.”

  “Any of what?” Tiergan demanded.

  Emery reached up to rub his temples, moderating the other Councillors telepathically.

  “Very well,” he said after a painful beat of silence. “I’d hoped to avoid an interruption-filled discussion. But it seems we must do this out of order.” He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, in light of several serious developments that Lord Grady brought to our attention, we decided to redefine the qualifications for the nobility in order to extend an invitation to Miss Foster. Our plan was to appoint her as a Regent today, so that she can pair her unique talents with the resources available to our nobles, and assist us with these pressing challenges more fully.” He paused to let that sink in before he added, “But upon further discussion, we discovered that we’d made one crucial miscalculation. Miss Foster’s greatest successes are rarely hers alone. She’s most valuable when working in tandem with others—which is not an insult to you, Miss Foster. As Councillors, we are far better as a united group of twelve than we could ever be as individuals. But because of that, we realized the best way to utilize you would be to place you with a team—one carefully selected, arranged, and monitored by us, to ensure maximum efficiency.”

  Dex, Biana, Wylie, and Sophie all looked at each other.

  Then they looked at Stina Heks.

  And Stina summed it up for them. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “We’re not,” Councillor Emery assured her. “We’ve invited the five of you here today because you’ve each been chosen for this revolutionary new approach to the Regency—but the arrangement hinges on Miss Foster’s willingness to accept the position of leader.”

  “Leader,” Sophie repeated, liking that term even less when the Council was the one assigning it to her.

  “Yes,” Councillor Emery said, pausing to glance at each of the other Councillors before he added. “The leader of Team Prodigious.”

  SEVEN

  SO, QUESTION,” DEX SAID, BREAKING the uncomfortable silence. “Can we get a cooler name? Because ‘Team Prodigious’ is an epic fail.”

  “I’m not even a prodigy anymore,” Wylie added.

  Sophie knew she should probably worry that Wylie would be annoyed that he wasn’t being put in charge, given that he was the eldest of their group, and the only one of them who’d actually taken the elite levels—and was therefore the only one legitimately qualified to be a Regent. But her brain was too stuck on the fact that she was expected to officially be the leader.

  Of Team Prodigious.

  Her nose crinkled.

  Dex was right. That name had to go.

  “It’s not a reference to prodigies,” Councillor Emery tried to explain. “ ‘Prodigious’ means ‘extraordinary.’ ”

  “It also means ‘abnormal,’ ” Councillor Bronte informed them, with the closest thing to a smile that his sharp-featured face was capable of making.

  “Yeah, well, whatever your boring reasons are,” Dex said through a feigned yawn, “the name’s still a deal-breaker for me.”

  “Me too,” Biana agreed. “I think we should be Team Sparkles, because we’ll make everything better!”

  Dex snort-laughed—then frowned. “Wait, was that a serious suggestion?”

  Biana’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t hear you coming up with any better ideas.”

  “I was getting to that!” Dex scratched his chin and tapped his foot for several beats. “Okay. What if we went with something cool and space-y, like… Team Nebula?”

  “You realize that would technically make us Team Swirling-Cloud-of-Gas, right?” Biana asked, earning a choked laugh from Grady.

  Even with his green spotlight, Sophie could see Dex’s blush spread all the way to the tips of his ears. “Is that what ‘nebula’ means?” he mumbled. “I always get it confused with ‘galaxy.’ But hey… nothing wrong with a little gas, am I right?”

  “Everyone has it,” Wylie agreed.

  Stina groaned. “Are you hearing this?” she asked the Councillors. “Why would you pick these losers for something so important?”

  “Uh, because these losers have taken on the Neverseen how many times now?” Dex snapped back.

  “And lost how many times?” Stina countered.
“Oh, that’s right—all of them.”

  “We haven’t lost,” Biana argued.

  “Well, you certainly haven’t won.” She pointed to Biana’s scars, and Biana—to her credit—didn’t flinch.

  Della, on the other hand, looked like she’d gone into full mama-bear mode and was imagining the many ways she could use her fancy defense training to drop-kick Stina across the room and then step on her with the spikes of her heels.

  “Yeah, well, what have you done?” Dex asked, stepping into Stina’s personal space. He was still shorter than her. But almost everyone was.

  Stina got even taller when she straightened to her full height and said, “Uh, how about I saved the alicorn babies and reset the Timeline to Extinction?”

  “Um, the people who saved those babies were Sophie, my brother, and the trolls,” Biana corrected.

  “Do not underestimate the role my daughter and I played that day!” Vika snapped.

  “Maybe you did important stuff,” Dex told her. “But I heard Stina put out some blankets or something? Good job! No one else could’ve done that.”

  “There was a lot more to it,” Stina argued. “And what was the last gadget you made that actually worked right? Because I heard a bunch of things failed at the Celestial Festival.”

  “That wasn’t Dex’s fault,” Sophie mumbled. “The null that Tinker designed for me interfered.”

  “And a Technopath couldn’t tell that was going to happen?” Stina asked, clicking her tongue. “If Dex was any good, he would’ve been prepared.”

  Dex snorted. “Yeah, well, at least I actually fought back that night. What were you doing? Hiding behind Mommy and Daddy?”

  One of the Councillors sighed—Sophie was pretty sure it was Councillor Zarina because she looked like she wanted to zap all of them with lightning. “I’m starting to remember why we don’t work with teenagers.”