Only a glimmer—and yet it burned and burned and burned.
Searing across Sophie’s corneas.
Scorching into her brain.
And she didn’t care one bit, because her thoughts were clear and her body was hers and she could see the rest of her group around her, stretching and blinking out of their dazes.
She wanted to run around hugging all of them—but that probably would’ve been a bad idea. Because as she settled back into reality, she took a longer look at her surroundings and realized they’d stopped in front of a very large, very fancy, very intimidating door made from thousands of pieces of every possible kind of metal intricately welded together.
The kind of door that surely led to the Grand Hall of a dwarven king.
Still, she couldn’t listen to Nubiti’s final instructions, needing to use those brief moments to make eye contact with everyone to ensure that they were okay.
They definitely looked weary, and haunted. But they gave her small smiles—and she gave them the same so they’d know not to worry about her, either.
And then there was an earth-shaking clang and a cringeworthy scraping, and Nubiti was guiding them into another dim, round room—enormous this time. And far more elegant.
The packed white sand making up the floor shimmered like a moonlit shoreline, and the earthy ceiling was flecked with silvery minerals like stars. A chandelier formed from interlocking rings of dangling, flame-filled glass jars cast a flickering orangey glow over everything. And the marbled walls had gorgeous swirled carvings inlaid with gold and silver and copper and lumenite and other metals that shone green and black and purple. Gemstones were set into the marble around the swirls: emeralds and rubies and topazes and sapphires and onyxes—though Sophie had a feeling some of the black stones were magsidian.
And in the center of it all, seated on a glittering black throne, was a small bald creature wearing white furry pants and a crown carved from a single piece of curved opalescent shell.
King Enki.
He snorted at their arrival. And his gritty voice sounded particularly gruff when he told them, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I’VE NEVER SEEN A DWARF without fur,” Stina whispered—though the words still felt way too loud in the echoey room. “It’s… odd.”
It totally was.
But that didn’t stop Sophie from elbowing Stina in the ribs—and wishing she could do the same to Dex for letting one muffled snicker slip.
Clearly she should’ve warned the rest of her teammates about King Enki’s unusual appearance ahead of time, so they would’ve been prepared for the surprise.
She’d have to add that to the list of ways she wasn’t exactly killing it as team leader.
King Enki might look a lot like a plucked chicken with mottled peach, brown, and black skin. But to the dwarves, the fur-waxing was a statement of their king’s power and strength.
Sophie wasn’t sure why a fur-free king communicated either of those things—but it didn’t matter.
She and her friends didn’t have to understand it.
They just needed to show their respect—especially since they’d already arrived late, and had forgotten to bow when they entered, which Sophie only realized after someone cleared their throat beside her.
Then she turned and saw that Grady had dropped to one knee and Bronte stood stooped at the waist—each position reflecting their titles of Emissary and Councillor.
As Regents, Sophie and her friends were supposed to drop to both knees—which they immediately scrambled to do.
Dex, Stina, Wylie, and Biana were also supposed to lower their heads.
But Sophie had to keep her head held high to show her authority. Which made it a lot harder to not flinch when the king’s gaze focused on her.
“My guards tell me you experienced some challenges on the Path here, Miss Foster,” he called out, making Sophie wince. And even though there was quite a bit of distance between them, Sophie could hear his claws tapping the armrests on his throne.
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
She wished she could turn to Nubiti for guidance, since she hadn’t forgotten her bodyguard’s warning about how King Enki would consider her struggles along the Path to be insulting. But she forced herself to remember what Bronte and Oralie had taught her.
“It’s Lady Foster,” she corrected, trying to channel Keefe’s smooth confidence as she held the king’s stare. “Leader of Team Valiant. And yes, your security definitely did pose a challenge. Clearly it’s been brilliantly designed.”
Authority and deference.
That’s what Bronte and Oralie had emphasized.
She needed to speak with conviction.
Demand recognition.
But also defer to the king’s authority—and give praise any chance she found.
From the corner of her eye, she could see both Bronte and Nubiti nod their approval.
But her relief was short-lived.
“If you find our security so impressive,” King Enki said with a lot more tickety-tapping, “I wonder why you’ve demanded this meeting to inspect it.”
“You know very well why we’re here,” Bronte cut in, straightening from his bow.
“Do I?”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“Yes,” Bronte insisted.
King Enki inclined his head, making the light glint off of the smooth opalescent circle of his crown—which probably would’ve been an impressive accessory if Sophie weren’t so familiar with the creepy giant sand crab creature the shell came from. She could remember too many spindly, flailing legs to ever find it pretty.
“I thought I understood the purpose of this meeting,” King Enki said, and Sophie blinked back to attention, “right up until yesterday, when I found myself playing host to someone from the Black Swan.”
“The Black Swan?” Grady repeated, as Sophie blurted out, “Yesterday?” and Biana and Dex both asked Bronte, “Did you know about that?”
“We… were unaware of that meeting,” Bronte told King Enki after a beat of silence.
“Clearly.” Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap. “Which seems particularly strange to me, since I was told that many of you kneeling in front of me are members of the order.”
“We are,” Sophie agreed, hoping it was okay to shift back to standing. Her knees were starting to feel bruised—the sandy floor was much more solid than it looked.
She didn’t know how the rest of her teammates were managing to stay so still.
“Well, then surely you can understand why I find it both obnoxious and suspicious that these meetings weren’t combined,” King Enki informed her.
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“Either you’re wasting my time,” he added, “or the Council’s been overstating their supposedly improved relationship with the Black Swan.”
“If we were, do you think Miss Foster would be with us?” Bronte countered. “And as a Regent, no less? Leader of a vital new arrangement in our nobility?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.” King Enki reached out his palm and curled his fingers—a gesture that Sophie had been told meant that she was supposed to approach the throne.
She didn’t dare glance at any of her friends, knowing the worry in their eyes would shred her already frazzled confidence. And the twenty-seven steps she took to cross the room felt like twenty-seven miles. She had to lock her arms at her sides to be sure she didn’t fidget as King Enki leaned closer, sniffing the air between them.
“So much fear,” he murmured.
“Can you blame me?” she asked, hoping the question would earn her points, both as honesty and a subtle compliment.
“No, I suppose I can’t.”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“So… the moonlark now has a crown,” he said, leaning back against his throne again. “And she’s distanced herself from her creators.”
&nbs
p; “I haven’t—” Sophie stopped herself, realizing that arguing with King Enki would only make things worse.
Instead, she straightened up, smoothing her golden cape and straightening the jeweled hem of her tunic before she told him, “I’ll always be their moonlark.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” he asked.
“Honestly? I have no idea,” Sophie admitted, holding her breath through the silence that followed the confession.
And she cringed at the sharp sound King Enki finally made—until she realized it was a single barked laugh.
“I think I could enjoy your company, Lady Foster,” he told her, looking even more surprised by the sentiment than she was. “If only you weren’t here to criticize my city.”
Sweat streamed down Sophie’s back, and she sucked in a steadying breath. “I—”
“No need to deny it,” King Enki interrupted. “And it may be unfair to hold it against you. It’s not your fault your Council has chosen to use you this way—sending you to face me, hoping I’ll be less inclined to offense if the criticisms come from a pretty young child.” His gaze shifted to someone over Sophie’s shoulder as he called out, “At least the Black Swan had the courage to face me leader-to-leader when they gave their unnecessary warnings!”
“Sophie is a leader,” Bronte called back.
“Yes, and what an impressive team you’ve made her a leader of,” King Enki scoffed. “Three children, and one who could hardly be called an adult. All still too afraid—or ignorant—to realize they could be standing.”
“We’re not afraid!” Biana shouted back, and Sophie tried not to flinch—or panic that the outburst would land Biana in a dwarven prison. “And we’re not ignorant, either,” Biana added. “We’re just… really bad at bowing, apparently.”
King Enki’s lips twitched with what was either a smile or a sneer.
“Such boldness,” he said, turning back to Sophie.
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“We may be young,” Sophie said quietly—but not timidly. “But we’ve lived through more than you would expect. And we’re not here to criticize. We’re trying to help. The Neverseen—”
“Yes, one of your creators already gave me the whole story yesterday,” King Enki interrupted. “I’ve heard alllllllllllllllllll about how my people will be the next targets of these villains that you keep failing to defeat. Just as I’ve heard alllllllllllllllllll of your worries about Shades and shadowflux and magsidian.”
His gaze shifted to Nubiti on the last word, and Sophie wondered if that meant he’d realized that Nubiti had found a loophole to defy him.
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
Sophie’s eyes followed the sound, and she realized his entire throne was a single carved block of magsidian.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” King Enki asked, trailing his fingers across the stone. “This is the largest piece we’ve ever found. The ultimate seat of power.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sophie murmured.
And it was.
The style of the throne was rougher than other ornate chairs usually used by kings and leaders—but there was something so elegant about its raw simplicity. It looked as if the dwarves had tried to cut the minimum number of facets into the magsidian—as if they wanted people to know that it was all their king needed.
Which made Sophie wonder what those cuts and carvings caused the throne to draw.
Justice?
Truth?
She didn’t ask.
Instead, she shared what Stina and Wylie had taught her right before they’d left for Loamnore, when she’d finally had them give her an update on their conversation with Lady Zillah.
“Did you know that some believe shadowflux was the first element, existing long before anything else?” she asked.
“I suppose that theory makes sense. Darkness is the natural state of things. We have to work to add light.”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“You don’t like hearing that, do you?” he asked. “Given your species’ obsession with anything that glows.”
Sophie shrugged, hoping the gesture wasn’t too casual. “Personally, I’ve always been a fan of both. I think light and darkness each have their place, and the trick is to keep the right balance.”
He tilted his head.
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“Was there a point to that piece of trivia you just shared?” he asked.
“I’m getting there,” Sophie promised, daring a glance behind her.
The lighting was too dim for her to read Stina’s and Wylie’s expressions. But they weren’t waving their arms trying to get her to stop, either.
So she told King Enki, “Some people also believe that since shadowflux was first, its influence can be felt in everything. Which would make it the most powerful of all the elements—and a power that strong can never truly be contained, even when we think it has been.”
She gestured toward his magsidian throne.
“What are you implying?” King Enki asked.
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “Everything about shadowflux feels so abstract to me. All I know for certain is that it’s brutal. And unlike anything I’ve experienced. And it changes everything it touches.”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“The Black Swan essentially told me the same thing yesterday. But I’m still failing to see what the information has to do with my people. I do not fear a few rebel elves—or a few traitors from my own kind. Our security is stronger than it’s ever been.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sophie told him. “But isn’t it safer to double-check?”
“The Black Swan did check. I allowed them to search for an entire hour.”
“Okay… then triple-checking won’t hurt either, will it?” Sophie pressed. “I wish Mr. Forkle—”
“It wasn’t him,” King Enki interrupted again, leaning closer to sniff the air between them. “You really didn’t know about yesterday’s meeting, did you?”
Sophie shook her head. “Who did you meet with?”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer. But eventually he said, “The rocky one.”
“Granite?” she clarified.
King Enki nodded. “He’s often our point of contact. But go on. You were saying something you wished about the Black Swan.”
She had been, but she’d lost her train of thought, trying to figure out why Tiergan would’ve gone to Loamnore without telling her—or Wylie.
“Right,” she said, trying to focus. “I was just going to say that… I wish the Black Swan had let us know that they’d be meeting with you. They’re good at keeping secrets—which you probably know after so many years of working with them.”
King Enki had often sided with the Black Swan over the Council.
“And I’m sorry if you feel like we’re wasting your time, or doubting your power or your security,” Sophie added. “I hope Loamnore isn’t a target—and if it is, I hope the Neverseen end up writhing and sobbing in the King’s Path from their hallucinations. Feel free to leave them in there if that happens.”
That earned her a twitchy partial smile from the king.
“But I’ve watched the Neverseen win over and over and over,” she added quietly. “And they generally strike the places we feel the safest. You were there when Lumenaria fell—and you’ve helped us rebuild our other fallen cities. Would you have ever imagined that kind of destruction would happen?”
Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.
“Fine,” he told her after what might’ve been an eternity. “Make your unnecessary searches. Nubiti will take you around, answer any questions you have. But I want a report before you leave. And if you find nothing, this is the last I want to hear of this,” he added, shifting his focus to Bronte.
“Thank you,” Sophie told him, wishing her legs weren’t so shaky as she dipped a
full curtsy.
And she could tell that Grady wanted to hug her when she stumbled back to her group—and she wanted to bury herself in his arms—but they both had to settle for a pat on the shoulder and a “good job.”
“That sounded fun,” Dex mumbled.
“Not now,” Nubiti told him. “He can still change his mind, and I want to show you where the other security adjustments occurred.”
“Wait!” Biana said as Nubiti stomped her foot and revealed a new tunnel for them to take. “Aren’t we going to search in here?”
“In the Grand Hall?” Nubiti shook her head. “That would be unnecessary.”
“But we’re here,” Biana argued. “And it was a pretty horrible journey. And we know the security has been altered—”
“It hasn’t actually,” Nubiti interrupted. “There’s nothing to alter in this room. The Grand Hall is defended by the King’s Path and the royal brigade—our strongest warriors, who remain ready to strike whenever necessary.” She pointed to the ground, and Sophie tried not to imagine an army of dwarves bursting out of the sand—it was a bit too close to her hallucinations.
“I still think we should look around before we go,” Biana insisted.
“I agree,” Dex jumped in. “Just in case there’s something we’re missing—especially since I’m pretty sure none of us want to have to come back here ever again.”
Everyone seemed to turn a shade of green.
“I don’t see how a quick look could hurt,” Grady told Nubiti. “Especially since King Enki said we could search anywhere.”
Nubiti heaved out a sigh. “Do what you must. But be quick. And quiet. And do not go near the throne. I’ll explain to King Enki what’s happening so he does not call for his guards—and if he tells us to leave, we will leave, understood?”
“I’ll go with you,” Bronte offered. “I need to have a few words with the king anyway.”
Nubiti didn’t look thrilled with that information, but she motioned for Bronte to join her as she made her way over to the throne.
“Let’s split up,” Sophie told her friends. “Dex, you and Biana start over there”—she pointed to the farthest part of the room—“and, Stina, you stay with Grady and start here, in the doorway. Wylie and I will take the middle.”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 39