Shockingly no one argued—or made any jokes about Lady Fos-Boss—as they set to work searching the walls and floor.
If only Sophie had any idea what they should be looking for.
“Did you know Tiergan met with King Enki yesterday?” she whispered to Wylie.
“No—and you can bet I’ll be calling him on it,” Wylie assured her. He glanced over his shoulder to where Bronte and King Enki had moved to a spot of shadowy quiet for some sort of intense whispered conversation. “I thought we were about to get kicked out of here.”
“So did I,” Sophie admitted, tracing her hand along one of the swirly gold carvings, which curled around a glittering black stone. “Is this magsidian?”
“No,” Nubiti said behind her, making her jump. “That is onyx, for decoration. The only magsidian in this room is the throne.”
“You’re sure?” Sophie craned her neck to better see the abundance of black stones inlaid into the walls.
“All onyx,” Nubiti insisted. “Magsidian would hinder the pull of the throne.”
“Still seems smart to make sure,” Wylie decided. “I mean, we’re here, right?”
He snapped his fingers and a tiny sphere of pale white light hovered over his palm.
“Your light tricks have no place in our world!” King Enki shouted over to him.
“This will only take a second,” Wylie called back before turning to Nubiti. “Onyx will shimmer when the light hits it. Magsidian will do… who knows?”
Nubiti sighed. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Maybe,” Wylie agreed. “I guess we’ll find out.”
And for all of her stubbornness, Nubiti looked mildly curious as Wylie flicked his wrist and sent the glowing white sphere to the base of the wall, guiding it in wide, slow circles around the room and climbing higher with each rotation.
Sophie was pretty sure everyone was watching the way he lingered at each black stone, waiting for the telltale onyx shimmer. And with each confirmation, Nubiti grew smugger and smugger.
“I told you, there’s no magsi—”
Her word was drowned out by a crackling buzz as the white sphere disappeared with a shower of sparks into the stone that Wylie had been testing.
“Uh, what was—”
It was all Sophie managed to say before the light blasted back out like a bolt of white lightning, aimed at a stone directly across the room, which absorbed the light the same way—crackling and sparking before the light blasted toward a third stone that ricocheted it toward the ceiling, aimed right for—
“TAKE COVER!” Nubiti screamed, dragging Sophie and Wylie to the floor as the bolt hit the chandelier and made every jar of flame explode.
TWENTY-SIX
HOW DO WE STOP THIS?”
That was the first question everyone shouted as the shower of flames and jagged glass turned into full-fledged blazes—tearing across the Grand Hall’s floor, fueled by the spilled chandelier oil.
And there seemed to be no answer—except to evacuate immediately—until the fires drew close to King Enki’s throne and…
The flames vanished.
Sophie had never seen anything like it.
One second there was choking smoke and searing heat and her brain was screaming, NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!
And then…
Nothing.
Not a spark.
Or a wisp of smoke.
Or even a scorch mark to prove the flames had ever been there to begin with.
King Enki seemed just as stunned as they were by the development. He even burned his hand on the magsidian while he inspected his throne—which also miraculously turned out to be the largest injury anybody suffered that day.
Everything else was just cuts and scrapes from the broken glass and tiny blisters from the splattered oil.
And other than the shattered chandelier, the Grand Hall showed little sign of actual damage—though Sophie wondered if they’d find more once the room had better lighting again.
King Enki was understandably reluctant to bring in any more jars of flickering orange flames until he had a better understanding of what had actually happened to the chandelier. So the only illumination came from Sophie’s and her team’s glowing circlets.
Nubiti even had to borrow Sophie’s crown when she crawled up the wall to inspect the stones that Wylie had accidentally triggered. And she was able to confirm that the stones definitely were hidden pieces of magsidian—cut with a pattern of facets she’d never seen before.
But there was no way to tell how long the magsidian had been there.
The stones could’ve been part of some elaborate sabotage planned by the dwarves who’d defected to the Neverseen.
Or, as King Enki immediately reminded them, the stones could just as easily have been a long-forgotten defense from the days of an ancient king.
Or anything in between.
All they knew for certain at the moment was: The stones weren’t going anywhere.
Nubiti tried to pry them out—first with her claws, and then with a special tool—and nothing would loosen them. So she’d had to settle for covering the stones with a cementlike paste to keep any light away.
Which brought Sophie’s group to the much trickier part of the conversation: the part where King Enki took back his offer to let them search other places in Loamnore, convinced their strange elf-y tricks would trigger more unexpected disasters.
Nothing would change his mind.
They tried promising not to use their abilities—or their skills. Not that King Enki understood the difference.
Tried pointing out that if they didn’t find the problem first—and the Neverseen were behind it—they’d now seen exactly how easily their enemies could cause serious damage to Loamnore.
But the best they managed was persuading King Enki to let Nubiti conduct her own investigation without them—which wasn’t a horrible compromise. But it meant Nubiti would need to take at least a few days away from her duties as Sophie’s bodyguard.
Probably longer.
“Take as long as you need,” Sophie told her as Nubiti handed back her circlet. “This is so much more important.” She debated a second before she added under her breath, “I don’t think those stones are from the past.”
Nubiti looked somehow smaller as she whispered, “I… don’t either. I did not want to argue with my king. But… the facets carved into the magsidian were so sharp and precise that they had to be cut with modern tools.”
Sophie’s insides tangled up tighter than her old human earbuds. “Keep me posted?” she asked. “And let me know if there’s any way we can help?”
Nubiti nodded, grabbing Sophie’s arm before Sophie turned to rejoin her friends. “You know what I can’t stop wondering?” Nubiti asked, stepping closer so only Sophie would hear. “We saw how those stones react to light—but how will they respond to shadows?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Sophie admitted. And Nubiti’s raw honesty made Sophie lean in to share her own equally bone-chilling question. “But you know what really scares me?” she whispered directly into Nubiti’s ear. “If the security on the King’s Path relies on darkness to keep King Enki safe from intruders, what happens if the intruders have a Shade?”
* * *
“Three bodyguards is fine,” Sophie told Sandor as he paced back and forth across Havenfield’s living room.
“Right now it’s only two,” he reminded her. “I’m still figuring out other arrangements for Linh.”
“Then two is fine,” Sophie insisted, glad to know that Linh still had Bo protecting her. “Honestly, sometimes one feels like too many.”
She’d hoped Sandor would smile at the tease. But there was no lightening the goblin warrior’s scowl—not after Sophie’s group had used a special magsidian pendant to leap back to where he’d been standing guard in the oasis and told him about the horrifying hallucinations and the almost-inferno and how Nubiti had stayed behind to conduct the search that the
y were no longer allowed to do.
Then they’d leaped back to Havenfield, and Bronte and Grady had gotten on their Imparters while Sandor had stalked off to get Flori, and within about five minutes the downstairs main room had become very full.
Everyone who’d gone to Loamnore was still there.
Plus Edaline, Sandor, and Flori.
And the entire rest of the Council.
And Elwin—who was hard at work treating all their cuts and burns with various ointments and poultices.
The only person noticeably missing was Mr. Forkle.
Given the Black Swan’s secret meeting with King Enki the day before, Bronte and Grady had decided not to include him—or any members of the Collective—in their current conversation, which had started out as a long, brutal accounting of everything that had happened in Loamnore, followed by lots of panicked speculation, and had now somehow dissolved into another round of “How do we protect Sophie?”
But for once Sophie wasn’t bothered by their overprotection.
In a way, she was going to need it.
The whole journey back to Havenfield, her mind kept replaying the question they’d shouted as the fire had erupted around them.
How do we stop this?
Seemed like a fitting way to sum up their current Neverseen situation.
And sadly, she had no idea.
But Sophie did know that if it hadn’t been for Stina’s well-timed slap on the King’s Path, Sophie would’ve sabotaged their mission in Loamnore, which would’ve meant they’d never have discovered those magsidian pieces—not to mention the fact that she would’ve caused everyone excruciating pain while they were already struggling with horrific hallucinations.
If she’d needed proof that her inflicting was a problem—that was it.
Especially since Bronte hadn’t come close to raging out on everybody.
She wasn’t just malfunctioning.
She was becoming a liability.
And given what they were up against, they needed all the power they could get.
A knock at the front door interrupted her thoughts, and Sophie gave herself a quick eyelash tug as Grady asked, “Who could that be?”
Sophie already knew.
She’d hailed the wheezy, wrinkled figure who shuffled into the room, looking particularly uncomfortable—but whether his discomfort was from the bloating caused by the ruckleberries, or from the glares everyone was giving him, was anybody’s guess.
“I thought we’d agreed to keep the Black Swan out of this conversation,” Bronte grumbled, scanning each face like he was searching for a culprit.
“We did,” Sophie said, proud of how steadily she stood. “I invited him for a different reason.”
Her eyes locked with Mr. Forkle’s as she added, “I’m ready to let you reset my abilities.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE HAD PLANNED AHEAD FOR all of the What?, Why?, and How? questions she knew she’d be getting after she dropped the “ability resetting” bombshell on everybody—but she wasn’t prepared for how quickly the conversation shifted to a simple, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she said, echoing everyone as she studied the abundance of faces staring back at her. Twenty-two, to be exact, between friends, family, bodyguards, and Councillors—which made their speedy, unanimous agreement all the more unprecedented. “Does that mean you’re not going to try to talk me out of this?”
“We can if it’ll work,” Grady offered, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Edaline.
“What your consistently overprotective father meant to say,” Edaline corrected, “is that you’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this decision—and it’s also something you’ve experienced before, and that means you understand better than any of us exactly how dangerous and painful it’s going to be. And if you’ve decided that it’s worth the risk, you must have good reasons. So… we trust your judgment.”
“Even if we’re not happy about it,” Grady added under his breath—and Sandor, Dex, Biana, and Wylie snorted their agreement.
“Well…,” Sophie said, still struggling to process this unexpected cooperation. “Thanks.”
And amazingly enough, that seemed to settle it.
No arguing.
No drama.
It was almost too easy—which made Sophie worry that there was some sort of trick or loophole she was missing.
“Are you doing this now?” Edaline asked Mr. Forkle, sounding much calmer than Sophie would’ve expected—though Edaline did also seem to be wringing her hands pretty tightly.
“Yes, if Miss Foster is truly ready,” he agreed. And there was a challenge in the way he raised his eyebrows at Sophie—as if he was reminding her that her stubborn demand for information had been the reason they hadn’t reset her abilities already, and that technically nothing on that front had changed.
“I need to fix myself,” she told him, holding his stare. “That’s my number one priority. So yeah—I’m ready. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
She added an eyebrow raise of her own with the final words—her way of challenging him back. Letting him know, We’re not done here—but this is more important.
Then she made her way over to his side, hoping no one noticed the way her knees shook with every step. “Do we need to head to the Healing Center, or…?”
“Your room here should work fine,” Mr. Forkle told her. “It’s probably best for you to be somewhere you’re relaxed and comfortable. I’ll hail Livvy and have her bring over the supplies.”
“That better not mean you’re thinking of doing this without me,” Elwin warned, stepping in front of Mr. Forkle—which would’ve been a lot more intimidating if Elwin’s tunic wasn’t covered in pink fluffy dinosaurs.
“Quite the contrary,” Mr. Forkle assured him, taking out his Imparter and tapping the silver screen. “I’d been planning on having you around as backup—”
“Backup,” Elwin scoffed, raking his fingers through his messy hair.
“I assure you, that’s not an insult,” Mr. Forkle promised. “Livvy’s been researching and perfecting the treatment we’re about to use for the last several months, so naturally she’ll take the lead. But she’ll need you at her side the whole way through. That’s why I’m glad you’re already here and on board with the ability reset. Saves me both an errand and a lengthy discussion. And if…” His voice trailed off as he turned back to the larger group. “Actually, that reminds me. Did I hear correctly that all of you chose to exclude me from whatever meeting I’m interrupting?”
Councillor Emery crossed his arms. “We chose to keep any members of the Black Swan out of the discussion.”
Mr. Forkle’s frown deepened. “I thought we were past these kinds of squabbles.”
“Squabbles?” Bronte repeated. “Is that your way of trying to trivialize our concerns? As if we couldn’t possibly have a valid complaint against your order?”
“No, it’s my way of reminding you that you can come to me, or anyone else in the Collective, and raise your complaints anytime, and we’ll do our best to address them—the way responsible adults do when they want to resolve an issue,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “Holding secret meetings is childish.”
“Funny you should say that,” Bronte noted, “considering we’re gathered here to discuss the problems caused by Granite’s secret meeting with King Enki yesterday.”
Mr. Forkle straightened.
“Ah, so you thought we weren’t aware of your subterfuge?” Councillor Emery asked.
“There was no subterfuge,” Mr. Forkle insisted. “We’ve made it abundantly clear that our current focus is on the dwarves, and that we’d be arranging a meeting with King Enki as soon as possible.”
“And yet you didn’t bother to tell us that you had a meeting actually scheduled,” Bronte argued, “which nearly derailed our visit. King Enki accused us of wasting his time and of misrepresenting our working relationship with the Black Swan, since you clearly weren’t keeping us informed. He
seemed ready to cast us out of Loamnore, and the only reason he didn’t was because Miss Foster managed to calm him down.”
For what it was worth, Mr. Forkle did look sufficiently chagrined. “Well. I suppose it might’ve been wise if we’d better coordinated our investigations.”
“Yes, it would,” Councillor Emery agreed. “And it should be noted that we’ve made every effort to be forthright—”
“Every effort,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “Strange. I don’t remember you informing us ahead of time that you’d be appointing several of our members as Regents—including Miss Foster.”
“You didn’t know about that?” Sophie asked, not sure what to feel when he shook his head.
She’d assumed the Black Swan was fully aware that the Council was offering her the title, since the Council appointed her right after she’d met with Mr. Forkle in his office—and her first assignment overlapped with things that the two of them had discussed. Plus, Tiergan was with them in the Seat of Eminence when they’d agreed to become Team Valiant.
But… now that she thought about it, no one had actually said the Black Swan knew she was becoming a Regent. And Tiergan had been confused about why he and Wylie had received a vague summons to be there.
All of which begged a different question—one Sophie probably should’ve thought to ask when Mr. Forkle admitted a few days earlier that the Black Swan had never anticipated her appointment to the nobility.
“Do you not want us to be Regents?” she asked.
Mr. Forkle dragged a hand down his face. “I have no problem with any of you having the title, nor with you allying yourself with the Council. But… it does complicate things. Particularly since delegating assignments to you and your friends has never been easy for those of us in the Collective—and I realize that may be hard to believe given the way we’ve been dragging you into our plans from your earliest days in the Lost Cities. But… the fact that you were always frustrated by how few and far between our notes were should prove how methodical we try to be—how thoroughly we explore all of the options before we choose to involve you. And the Council isn’t nearly so meticulous—which isn’t meant to be a criticism,” he added when several Councillors made derisive noises. “It’s simply a different method of operating. The twelve of you—as well as your many predecessors—have been handing off assignments to Regents and Emissaries for millennia. It’s second nature to you. And I understand why—it’s the only way a world as complex as ours can properly function. But the Black Swan has had to operate in the shadows for most of our existence, and our goal has always been to involve as few as possible to avoid detection—plus, we’re well aware of the danger involved with our assignments and prefer to keep the risks to ourselves. So when I told you about meeting with King Enki, Miss Foster, it was with the assumption that the meeting would be arranged the way we always arrange anything we’re involving you in—with someone in our order handling all the preliminary investigations and addressing as many potential pitfalls as possible before we ever brought you and your friends to Loamnore. And while I knew the Council worked at a different pace, it didn’t occur to me that they might arrange a meeting with King Enki this fast, since your appointment—and the existence of your team—has yet to be announced.”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 40