“And how many would prefer to suffer the consequences of ill-conceived plans?” Councillor Emery countered.
“You look confused,” Mr. Forkle whispered to Sophie.
“I don’t understand why they’re letting Fintan go on like this,” she whispered back.
“Because they take the ‘equals at the round table’ concept very seriously. And they’re probably also hoping he’ll wear himself out.”
“But shouldn’t they at least insist he talk about the ogre treaty?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“We are indeed,” Mr. Forkle said, rising from his seat and addressing the other leaders. “What you’re witnessing is the folly of the Neverseen. They don’t offer solutions. They shout and wail and stir up unrest, and make everyone lose focus on what actually matters. Let’s not forget that we’re here today because one leader”—he pointed to King Dimitar—“decided to violate the treaty his people signed, in large part because he was listening to the advice of the Neverseen. Surely you’ve heard of the disgusting plague they unleashed on the gnomes in a pitiful attempt to force the species into slavery. And the betrayals sadly haven’t ended there. Only a handful of days ago, a small band of ogres attacked an innocent elvin family, killing one of the loyal goblins who was there to protect them.”
“The latter incident was done without my permission,” King Dimitar argued, turning to address Sophie and Edaline. “I cannot force you to believe me—nor will I apologize for something I’m not responsible for. But I will offer you what little I know. The Neverseen proposed an alliance, and spoke of a different test to verify my commitment.”
“Which was?” Sophie asked.
Dimitar glared at Fintan. “That is irrelevant. What matters is I decided not to participate—and I did so after receiving sound advice from one of your own. The same someone who happened to be present during the attack at Havenfield.”
“Lady Cadence?” Sophie confirmed.
“Seems rather coincidental, don’t you think, that a group of ogres rebelling against my resolve to separate from the Neverseen would involve themselves in an assault that includes the very person who encouraged me to reject Fintan’s offer?”
“My goodness,” Fintan said. “Who knew the ogres were such excellent story spinners?”
He was the picture of nonchalance, except for the subtle twitching of his jaw.
Meanwhile Dimitar’s expression was hard as iron—no sign of doubt or remorse. Sophie would never be foolish enough to trust the ogre king. But that didn’t mean he never spoke the truth.
And the idea of two ogre threats—one from the King and one from this emerging rebellion—opened a whole new realm of horrors.
“Either way,” Mr. Forkle said, taking back command of the floor. “Rebels or not, it does not change the fact that the ogres have turned violent, unruly, and willfully disobedient. And if they want the freedom of sharing this planet, they must agree to behave. That’s what we’re here to discuss—not whatever madness this fool is trying to distract everyone with. He’s here only to stir up trouble and flatter himself.” He flicked an arm at Fintan in a dismissive wave.
“Isn’t it ironic to hear such speech coming from someone who is himself the leader of a rebellion?” Fintan asked. “Someone who trusts the Council so little he won’t stand in front of them under his true identity. Someone who relies on fake names and false appearances and works on his projects in the shadows. He may like to believe he’s better than me, but in all the ways that matter, we are very much the same. And we’ve both earned the power we’ve acquired because the people of this planet—regardless of their species—are desperate for the guidance and direction needed to survive the coming crisis. Our world has far greater issues than rebellious ogres—in fact, I happen to know that a primary reason King Dimitar was initially open to my suggestions is something you all grow more frustrated with every day. And if you think this Council is ever going to offer you a solution, get ready to be severely disappointed. They’ll hem and haw and return to their glittering castles—maybe even erase the problem from their minds and pretend it no longer exists.”
“And what exactly is this problem you speak of?” King Enki asked
Fintan’s eyes focused on Sophie, his lips curling into a smile that gave her prickles. “The problem is humans.”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
WHAT DO WE do,” Fintan asked, “with a species that’s clever enough to build and create, and yet foolish enough to design its own ruin? Creatures so violent, they’re always at war—but with others of their own kind? Creatures that destroy everything they touch, including this planet we’re all forced to share? Creatures so prolific, they’ve consumed the majority of the productive lands, and yet even the Councillors themselves refuse to classify them as intelligent? Creatures we hold to no treaties—no codes of honor—and no laws except their own flawed logic? Creatures that don’t even know we exist?” His eyes roved around the table, before coming to rest again on Sophie. “To them, we’re nothing more than silly stories and legends. We’re magical. Mythical. Credited to their own fanciful imaginations. And should they discover our existence, their only response would be violence. And yet what has our Council done about it?”
“Another clever way of distracting us from the actual issues at hand,” Councillor Emery said. “At this rate, the summit will stretch on indefinitely.”
“We can’t have that,” Fintan told him. “I have a timeline to stick to.”
“A timeline for what?” Queen Hylda asked.
“The realization of my vision.”
Laughter shattered the silence, mixed with slow, mocking applause. Sophie was surprised to realize it was coming from King Dimitar as he stood to address the table.
“I must say, that was a far more impassioned performance than he gave me when he first mentioned his vision—which at the time, he was calling his Lodestar Initiative.”
“Yes, I had to streamline things after you failed so spectacularly,” Fintan informed him.
“I suppose I did.” King Dimitar turned to the representative of the gnomes. “We all know I let myself be coerced into unleashing the plague. Call it cruel if you like, but I was assured it would be in the best interests of everyone in the long run. I have since come to realize that the Neverseen’s promises are no more useful than the Council’s blatant refusal to acknowledge anyone’s concerns. Don’t make my mistake and be fooled by his pretty lies. He’ll offer the sun and the moon—so long as you do his bidding. In the end, you’ll have nothing to show except grief and ruin. And the same applies to the things you’ll hear from all of the elves at this table. Any of these new elvin orders only benefit themselves. Why else would they be focusing their talents and skills on deadly actions and altering their children to make them into weapons?”
“I’m not a weapon!” Sophie snapped when he shot her a glare.
“I don’t know what you are, Miss Foster. But I no longer care. You and your friends destroyed half my city and received full pardons instead of punishment. You invaded my mind—twice—and suffered no lasting consequences. Isn’t your very existence a violation of the most fundamental elvin laws? And yet here you are, in top-level treaty negotiations, with an equal seat among the leaders of entire worlds. I don’t fear the Council—I fear what they’ll let you grow to become. And more than that, I fear what lengths he’ll go to”—he pointed to Fintan—“in order to stop you. And I want no part of it.”
“So what are you saying?” Councillor Emery asked him.
“I’m saying I’ve looked long and hard for the so-called benefits I’ve gained from the leadership of the elves. And I can’t find any. But I’m also not naïve enough to believe I can stand against you—nor will I align myself any longer with self-serving rebellions. I’ve spent weeks watching my people suffer the consequences of the trust I put in lunatics. I won’t let them suffer any further. All I want—all I came to this summit to achieve—is a treaty that allows my peopl
e to remain separate. Leave us our lands and let us be, and I guarantee you’ll never see or hear from us again. Draft a treaty that specifies that and I’ll sign in a heartbeat.”
The discussion that followed seemed even more circular than the table, and after a dozen times around, King Dimitar laughed. “I offer to disappear—and essentially give you everything you want in the process—and still you argue and hesitate?”
“I think,” Councillor Emery said carefully, “that things are moving quite quickly in a rather unexpected direction. So I propose we take a brief recess to allow a moment to process.”
Righty and Bunhead rushed Sophie and Edaline back to their locked rooms, and Mr. Forkle convinced the goblins to let him tag along.
“I don’t understand what’s happening in there,” Edaline said, collapsing onto a settee in their sitting room.
Mr. Forkle took one of the armchairs. “I think . . . Dimitar spent much of his life believing ogres were actually the superior species, and planning to someday use the plague to take power. It’s why he fell for Fintan’s lies—and now that he’s been properly humbled, he’s trying to cut his losses and protect his people. Which has nothing to do with you, Miss Foster. Everything you brought upon Ravagog was provoked and necessary.”
“I know,” Sophie mumbled.
But it still didn’t feel good being called a monster—especially by one of the creepiest people she’d ever met.
Then again, the Dimitar speaking in the Circle wasn’t the bloodthirsty beast she’d come to expect. He was articulate. Logical. Clearly concerned for his people. Much more like the king Lady Cadence had described. And the thought that Sophie had played any role in convincing him the best course of action was total isolation made her glad she hadn’t eaten any breakfast.
“Did either of you notice how many of the leaders nodded along when Fintan went into his tangent about humans?” Edaline asked quietly.
“Everyone but King Dimitar,” Mr. Forkle said. “And I suspect that’s simply a refusal to agree with Fintan. Humans truly are quite the conundrum—creatures we’re forbidden to help, with weapons powerful enough to destroy the whole planet.”
“But what’s the solution to that?” Sophie asked.
“Ours is a work in progress,” Mr. Forkle admitted.
“And Sophie plays a part in it?” Edaline pressed.
“That will be up to her. She’s running her own life now. Has been for quite some time.”
“Unless Fintan pulls off his ‘vision,’ ” Sophie mumbled, her nerves knotting up just thinking about it.
This is what they want.
Had Lady Gisela meant those words for this potential prison break—assuming they were right about that threat? Or for some much grander, much darker scheme?
“Perhaps you should use these moments to check on Mr. Sencen,” Mr. Forkle suggested. “Rather than worrying yourself sick with unanswerable questions.”
He made a good point—though Sophie’s heart seemed to lodge in her throat as she transmitted her call with Keefe’s name.
If he didn’t answer . . .
’Bout time you reached out, Foster.
Tears burned Sophie’s eyes and she had to blink them back. Edaline pulled her into a hug to keep her from wobbling.
You’re safe? she asked.
I’m better than safe. I’m free! And FREEZING. I had to ditch all my cloaks—and this cave is not blocking the wind like it’s supposed to. I mean, it’s an ocean cave—it has one job to do!
Does that mean you’re here?
Yep. The security patrols don’t seem to know this cave exists. So if you need me, I’m close. Call me and I’ll find a way to reach you. In the meantime, I’ll be practicing my body temperature regulation and hoping nothing with lots of teeth and fangs also calls this cave home.
How did you escape? Was it as rough as you thought it would be?
A little better. A little worse. But I made it. What about you—how’s it going at the summit?
Super weird.
She’d just started to tell him about the strange speeches by both Fintan and King Dimitar when Righty and Bunhead knocked to notify them the recess had ended.
King Dimitar was the last to return to the Circle, and refused to take his seat. “I’ve said my piece,” he told everyone. “And have no further reason for debate. I’ve named the terms I’ll agree to for this treaty. You should all find them more than reasonable.”
“And you truly wish to withdraw your people from the rest of the intelligent species?” Councillor Emery asked.
Dimitar nodded. “So long as you will leave my people in peace.”
“And how do we know this isn’t a ploy to remain unsupervised, so you can build your weapons and train for a large-scale invasion?” Queen Hylda asked.
“If the lack of supervision is the issue, I’m happy to grant access to Lady Cadence whenever she wants. Will that satisfy your concerns?”
“It does for me,” King Enki voted first.
“And me,” Empress Pernille agreed.
Queen Hylda acquiesced next, followed by the gnomish leader whose official name seemed to be Thales the Sower.
“I suppose it works for us as well,” Councillor Emery said. “What about you?” he asked Mr. Forkle.
“I believe it’s a strange decision,” he said. “But I see no objection. And I’d suggest adding language that makes for a simple process to renegotiate should the ogres someday change their minds.”
“What about me?” Fintan asked, “I get an equal vote in these proceedings. And this is madness. Sheer, hasty madness. Surely we should take the night to sleep on it.”
“My people need me,” King Dimitar argued. “And honestly, if I have to suffer through another day of this nonsense I’ll be tearing out my teeth just so I have something sharp to throw at you. As I understand it, this does not call for a unanimous vote, only a majority, which I clearly have. Draft the treaty.”
“As you wish,” Councillor Emery said, rolling up the sleeves of his silver tunic and taking the clean scroll Councillor Liora conjured. “Looks like we’re in for a late night.”
“Not if you write fast,” Dimitar told him. “I’ll make this simple. No confusing legalese. No loopholes and amendments. All we need are simple lists of ‘I will’ and ‘I won’t.’ For example, I won’t act against any other intelligent species if you will allow my people to keep ourselves separate.”
And so it went, with King Dimitar mapping out simple, clear demands that none of the other leaders had issue with, and Councillor Emery furiously scribbling it all down. It would’ve been a relief—if Fintan hadn’t looked so stressed. Even Mr. Forkle seemed to notice.
The third time Fintan requested the time, Mr. Forkle asked, “In a hurry?”
“Quite the opposite,” Fintan assured him. But he noticeably paled when Councillor Emery marked the end of the treaty lists with an intricate flourish.
“Would you like to check it over before you sign?” he asked Dimitar.
“No.” King Dimitar took the pen and scratched his name. “Done.”
One by one, the other leaders added their signatures, and Sophie watched Fintan the whole time. He kept his features composed—and didn’t ask for the time again. But tiny beads of sweat trickled down his brow.
“Take this to the records room and have it sealed,” Councillor Emery told one of the goblins, handing him the signed scroll. “And ring the bells to mark the official end.”
“And take Fintan to the dungeon,” Oralie added, sending ten guards swarming around him. “Having a seat at this table does not excuse you of your crimes. You will be held here until a tribunal can determine your final sentencing.”
Fintan rolled his eyes. “How predictable of you.”
Earth-shaking bells rang through the castle, vibrating the walls.
“Does that mean we’re free to leave?” Edaline asked as Sophie tried to keep up with how fast everything was moving.
Could they rea
lly have arrested the leader of the Neverseen and secured an ogre peace treaty in less than five minutes?
Apparently they had, because Councillor Emery nodded. “Though I hope you’ll stay to celebrate at the gala.”
“The gala,” Fintan whispered, so softly he probably thought no one could hear him.
Sophie did. She was watching him so intently, she missed the part where Edaline agreed they’d stay. But she didn’t miss the relief in his eyes.
Or the way he smiled at her and said, “Sounds like you’ll be celebrating all night,” as the goblins dragged him away.
“I think you should leave,” Sophie said, as soon as she and Edaline were back in their rooms. “Fintan looked way too happy. And he’s down in the prison, where he wanted to be. And he’s no longer worried about time. I bet he needed to keep the leaders here up until the hour they’d arranged. And that’s why he seemed so stressed when King Dimitar rushed the process—but now he knows everyone will be staying for the gala.”
This is what they want.
“And how does getting rid of me change any of that?” Edaline asked.
“Because I’ll know you’re safe while I figure out what to do.”
Edaline took Sophie’s gloved hands. “I’m not leaving without you, so let’s not waste time debating that. Do you think we should tell the Council what you’re thinking?”
“I doubt they’ll listen. They’ll go on and on about all the security and how impossible it would be for anyone to breach it.”
“The security here is amazing,” Edaline noted. “But I know how sharp your instincts are. If you think there’s a problem, we can’t ignore it. I just wish I were as good at planning things as you are. The best I can come up with is to go to the gala and talk to Oralie. She made the meeting with Gethen happen—she might be able to sway the Council again.”
“I guess that’s true,” Sophie said, heading for the door.
Edaline grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Actually, I’d prefer you wait here. If Fintan’s planning something, there’s a good chance it includes you. I saw the way he watched you during the negotiations—like a prize he’d so desperately love to collect. Which means you should stay behind a locked door, where he can’t get anywhere near you. Please, Sophie. Use the time to brainstorm backup plans. Or chat with Keefe. Or both.”
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