And Keefe chose to ask, “Seriously, what’s up with you and Fitzy?”

And maybe it was because this really could be the last time they ever talked to each other—but Sophie didn’t want to lie, or dodge the question.

She just couldn’t seem to make herself say the words either.

So she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her collarbone—as close as she could get to her heart without it getting awkward—and said, “You’re the Empath. You tell me.”

Keefe closed his eyes, and his forehead got all crinkly.

And he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, unable to talk—but proud of herself for not crying.

Their eyes met, and she could see the worried questions he wasn’t asking.

But all he said was, “Head in the game, Foster. Don’t you dare let this distract you.”

“I won’t,” she promised, dropping his hand and backing up a step.

“And when you see Mommy Dearest,” he added, his eyes darkening, “tell her next time I’m calling the shots.”

Sophie nodded.

But if things went the way she was hoping, there wouldn’t be a next time.

“Looks like everyone’s gathering outside,” Ro announced. “So we should probably join them—and whoa, the Councillors all have their hair pulled back, and they’re wearing these silver suit things that make them all look the same. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“They do that sometimes,” Sophie told her. “Are their cloak pins shaped like glowing golden keys?”

“Yep—gotta love how you elves always have to be glowy or sparkly—even going into battle.”

The word was an icy splash of reality.

But Sophie also found it somewhat comforting knowing that the Council must have visited the Point of Purity on their way there, to remind themselves that there were bigger, brighter forces with so much more power than any earthly creature.

If only they weren’t going somewhere so very dark and far away from those Sources.

Sandor and Ro headed for the door, and Sophie fought the urge to turn and hug Keefe goodbye.

Instead she told him, “Stay safe.”

“I will if you will,” he bargained. “Oh, and Foster? Fight hard. Don’t hold anything back. And I’ll see you soon.”

FORTY-SEVEN

OKAY, WHOEVER CAME UP WITH the whole ‘let’s make the elves sink through a stinky bog in order to get to Loamnore’ idea needs a good, hard smack,” Maruca grumbled, shaking her dreadlocks to make sure the mud was truly gone—or that’s what Sophie assumed Maruca was doing.

It was hard to tell, since all Sophie could see through the dim, flickering light were the faint silhouettes of her group after they’d scattered to various positions around the bubble-shaped room. The Grand Hall felt so much darker and colder than it had during Sophie’s last visit, and she kept trying to let her darkness vision take over—but she had way too many worries shattering her focus. So the only other distinct shape she could make out was King Enki’s magsidian throne—a shimmering shadow in the center. Empty at the moment, since the king insisted on pacing the perimeter with two of his guards.

King Enki had evidently decided that it would be unwise to replace the ruined chandelier until all of the strange magsidian stones in the walls had been removed. And Nubiti hadn’t had a chance to extract them yet—which Sophie was hoping wouldn’t come back to haunt them.

The dwarves who’d defected to the enemy had likely planted those stones—and now Sophie was inviting the Neverseen to come to the room for a showdown. But by the time she’d realized the oversight, it was far too late to change their plans.

At least they were aware of the vulnerability.

And they were definitely used to improvising.

But King Enki had also forbidden Wylie from using his ability in case the light triggered another reaction. And Sophie doubted he’d be thrilled if Maruca formed any glowing force fields either. So they would have to save those tricks for absolute emergencies.

The only light that King Enki allowed in the Grand Hall came from two tiny, flickering sconces on either side of the massive door—though he’d permitted the Councillors to keep their glowing cape pins and let Sophie and Wylie wear their lumenite circlets. His own crown glowed as well, and was by far the brightest point in the room—flaring with a silvery gleam that made Sophie’s eyes water every time he passed by the position she’d chosen, which was an equal distance between the throne and the door.

“I didn’t realize tredgeon shell glowed like that,” Sophie admitted, surprised the dwarven king would want something so bright near his sensitive eyes.

“It doesn’t. This is my battle crown,” King Enki told her. And as he reached up to run his fingers across the smooth, simple band, Sophie realized the light reminded her of the cuffs she’d seen on Tam’s wrists in London—though Tam’s had glowed far brighter.

“Is the crown made of lumenite?” Sophie wondered.

King Enki snorted. “I would never wear a crown made of something so common.”

Sophie ignored the insult—but might’ve allowed herself half a smile when Ro coughed something that sounded like “awfully smug for a tiny hairless dude” from wherever the ogre princess had tucked herself away in the shadows.

“What is the crown made of, then?” Sophie asked King Enki.

He didn’t answer—but Nubiti crawled out of the sandy ground near the center of the doorway and told her, “Ethertine. It’s almost as rare as magsidian—but far less useful and therefore much less valuable.”

Which sounded like a strange choice as a material for the king’s battle adornment—but… his other crown was made from a giant sand crab’s exoskeleton, so clearly the dwarves had very different taste from elves.

“I’ve never heard of ethertine,” Councillor Noland said, his voice booming even from his post on the opposite side of the room.

“I have,” The Councillor That Sophie Wished Wasn’t There informed them—from a spot much closer to Sophie than Sophie wanted. “I believe it’s formed when lightning somehow connects with starlight, isn’t it?”

“Something like that,” King Enki hedged.

“Ethertine,” Sophie repeated, letting the word roll around in her head. “What does it do?”

“I wonder what makes you all think you have the right to ask me so many questions?” King Enki snapped. “Am I not a king? I may not be on my throne at the moment, but that does not lessen my authority! And is it not enough that I’ve given so many of your kind free rein in my city—and provided my guards to protect you? I’ve even allowed you to fill my halls with the stench of ogre sweat and goblin breath and gnomish feet!”

“Okay, whoa,” Ro said, stepping into the flickering light near the doorway, brandishing two of her daggers.

The metallic hiss of an unsheathing sword rang through the air on the other side of the room, and Sophie followed the sound to a massive shape that had to be Sandor.

“Save your weapons for the enemy,” Nubiti commanded. “In here you will only find allies.”