“Will they now?” King Enki countered, stalking toward Nubiti as two more dwarven guards popped out of the ground to flank him. “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak for me.”

Even in the dim light, Sophie could see Nubiti grit her teeth. But she dropped obediently into a deep bow and told King Enki, “I’m sorry, my king. I did not mean to offend.”

“I should hope not,” he told her, angling his head to sneer at her prostrated posture before turning back to pace.

Nubiti continued bowing until King Enki had completed five full circuits around the room. And she kept her chin tucked when she told him, “We may be grateful for their presence before this day is done.”

“I find that highly unlikely,” King Enki huffed, pausing to survey the silhouettes around him—which he could likely see clearly. “But if this is what it takes to protect my city… so be it.”

“It will be over soon enough,” Nubiti told him, slowly rising to her furry feet.

King Enki resumed pacing. “Let’s hope that’s the case.”

Sophie couldn’t have agreed more.

She’d lost track of how long they’d been waiting in that shivery, shadowy room, but her legs were growing wobbly and her arms were feeling twitchy and she was ready for something to happen.

“Is your king always this cuddly?” Ro asked Nubiti—louder than she should have.

King Enki laughed. “Oh, I assure you, I am far from cuddly.”

He stomped his foot, and a low rumble reverberated through the room, followed by the sound of crumbling earth.

It was too dark to see the crack heading for Ro until the ground beneath her feet had already fallen away—but somehow the ogre princess managed to leap to safety, tumbling into the shadows and stopping with a painful grunt, followed by a lot of spitting and coughing.

“Anyone else have anything they want to say?” King Enki challenged.

Councillor Liora stepped toward him, and her glowing clasp illuminated enough of her face to show the tension in her expression as she dipped her head in a bow and told the dwarven king, “Only if you’ll allow me to fully express our gratitude for your hospitality.”

King Enki inclined his head for a long second, and Sophie found herself holding her breath until he said, “You may.”

Liora dipped her chin again and launched into a list of such exaggeratingly magnanimous praise that Sophie wondered how Liora managed to say it all with a straight face.

“I’m sorry,” Nubiti whispered, suddenly at Sophie’s side. The tiny dwarf’s voice was barely audible when she added, “My king is in a very strange mood today. I suspect his crown is affecting his temper.”

“Ethertine can do that?” Sophie asked, careful to keep her voice hushed.

Nubiti nodded. “It’s been known to heighten emotion and dull inhibition—at least for those in my species. Something about the way the light affects our eyes… It’s why some choose to adorn themselves with it in battle—though I’ve never seen my king with that headpiece before. He must be very worried for our people.”

None of that was good news.

But Sophie tried to set aside the fear and focus on the useful information. “So ethertine affects every species differently?”

“We’re all unique creatures, aren’t we?” Nubiti countered.

They were.

And that could mean that Sophie was right about the theory slowly pulling together in her brain—but it also sounded so absurd that she needed a deep breath before she whispered, “Do you think, on an elf, ethertine might work like… mind control?”

Nubiti dragged her foot slowly through the sand. “Your species is very sensitive to light—more sensitive than any other. And your minds are known for their power. So… anything is possible.”

It was.…

“And ethertine is really made of starlight and lightning?” Sophie asked.

“That’s one of the common stories,” Nubiti told her. “But if that were true, every thunderstorm with a break in the clouds would create more, and ethertine is incredibly rare. So I think it must require a specific kind of starlight.”

“You mean quintessence,” Sophie guessed.

“That has always been my presumption—more so now that I better understand the origin of magsidian.”

“So… ethertine from quintessence, and magsidian from shadowflux,” Sophie said, mostly to herself.

And if Lady Gisela wanted to control a Shade…

“I’m going to check on the other group,” Nubiti said as Sophie’s mind raced through the possibilities. “I’ll be moving back and forth between you as needed. Hopefully you’re never both in dire straits at the same time.…”

“Hopefully they’re never in dire straits—period,” Flori corrected from somewhere in the nearby shadows.

“Of course.” But Nubiti’s grim tone made it clear how little hope she held for that. “Stomp in your regular pattern if you’re in trouble while I’m gone,” she told Sophie. “I’ll check back as soon as I can.”

She dived back into the ground, disappearing without a word.

And then there was silence.

Restless, endless silence.

Stretching so long that Sophie realized they surely had to be past the Neverseen’s deadline.

And still, there was nothing—and Sophie wondered if she should reach out to Fitz telepathically, to see if his group had seen or learned or discovered anything.

But the thought of hearing his voice in her head made her chest feel much too heavy.

“Think the Neverseen are playing with us?” Maruca called from the darkness after several more painfully long minutes.

“Oh, I’m sure they are,” Wylie muttered, the glow from his circlet swaying slightly, as if he were shaking his head. “I wonder if we should—”

Blaring sirens cut him off—and the high-pitched wails stabbed Sophie’s ears like tiny needles.

“What is that?” Councillor Noland shouted as three of the king’s guards locked arms in the dim glow near the door to form a furry barricade.

Sandor and Ro appeared behind them, their blades glinting in the flickering light.

“That is a warning alarm that Nubiti installed at the main entrance of the marketplace,” King Enki explained. And he seemed so calm—so steady—as he stood before his throne with the glow from his crown making the magsidian shimmer all the more.

He didn’t even flinch as a second siren joined the other, adding shrill, screechy sounds to the headache-triggering din.

“And that’s the alarm Nubiti installed at the market’s back gate,” King Enki informed them.

“Does that mean we’re in the wrong place?” Maruca yelled to Sophie.

“Or it means they’re coming for us next,” Wylie reminded her.

“Take cover!” Sandor ordered—but there was no way that Sophie was hiding.

She pulled two throwing stars from her pockets, aiming them toward the door.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

But the door stayed safely barricaded.

Not even a thump on the other side.

And a third siren blared to life with a series of painful squawks.