“Does that satisfy your concern?” Emery asked as Sophie struggled to process what Tiergan was saying—and wondered why it made her palms feel so very sweaty.

One quick glance at each of her friends told her what she needed to say. “Okay. Count me in for Team Whatever-Our-Name-Is.”

EIGHT

YOU REALIZE I’M NEVER GOING to remember to call you guys lords and ladies, right?” Sophie whispered, trying to keep herself distracted as she, Dex, Biana, Stina, and Wylie followed a single-file line of all twelve Councillors down a very dark, very quiet hallway.

Every click of her heels against the jeweled floor might as well have been cymbals crashing—and her pulse felt even louder.

And there was no end to their journey in sight.

In fact, there was nothing in sight, except for the twelve intimidating figures marching stolidly ahead of them under their silvery spotlights—which was probably why Sophie kept dragging her feet a little more with every step, even though her brain was simultaneously screaming that they needed to hurry up and get to work on the actual problems.

They’d had to leave the rest of their group behind, despite Sandor’s vehement protests. The Councillors wouldn’t even tell anyone where they’d be heading within the palace, or what exactly would be involved with swearing the oaths. All they’d shared was that it would be a different process than what any other Regent had experienced before. And as they’d led Sophie and her friends away, they’d added, “We’ll return when the appointments are final.”

Which made what Sophie and her friends were about to do feel very… permanent.

“Yeah, I’m probably never going to remember to call you Lady Sophie either,” Biana whispered back. “Or wait—is it supposed to be something fancier because you’re our leader? Captain Sophie? Master Sophie?”

Sophie cringed. “I hope not.”

Dex leaned in. “Um, I’m pretty sure it’s your call, since you’re the one in charge—unless you want us to choose for you. How about Lady Sophie the Reluctant?”

“Very funny,” Sophie told him as Biana covered her mouth to muffle her giggle.

“I kinda like Foster the Great,” Dex went on, oblivious to her annoyance—or perhaps because of it. “But I still feel like we could do better. Hmmm. Wait! I’ve got it!” He paused for a beat, dragging out the suspense before he leaned in and whispered, “The Fos-Boss.”

“Ohhhhh, I like it!” Biana breathed.

“I vote for that too,” Wylie added as he leaned in.

“Then it’s settled,” Dex decided. “Unless you think Lady Fos-Boss is better.”

“Yes!” Biana said, fighting to hold back another giggle. “That’s the winner.”

Sophie gave them each her deadliest glare. “If you call me either of those things, I swear I’ll—”

“And she thought she was going to have a hard time bossing us around,” Dex whispered to Biana and Wylie. “Looks like our fearless Lady Fos-Boss is a natural leader.”

This time even Wylie had to muffle his laughter.

“You guys are worse than Keefe,” Sophie grumbled, wondering if she could smother them with her frilly gown.

“I can’t believe I’m going to officially be linked to you weirdos,” Stina growled under her breath.

“You can still back out,” Dex reminded her.

“Or you could try acting like you appreciate what the Council’s doing for us today!” Stina whisper-hissed. “We’re inside the Seat of Eminence, about to be sworn in as the youngest Regents ever. Could you maybe try behaving with a little dignity?”

Dex scratched his chin. “Nah. Annoying you is way more fun.”

Stina gritted her teeth hard enough to make a cracking sound, and Sophie bit back a smile, wishing she could tangle the feeling around herself until it choked out the worries bubbling up her throat. Sure, the commitment she was about to make was huge and complicated and terrifying—especially given her past challenges with the Council. But… at least she was making it with friends.

Or mostly with friends—and they could handle Stina together.

“So… we have Lady Fos-Boss’s title settled,” Dex said, grinning when Sophie shook her head. “Any thoughts on a better team name?”

“No discussing team names until you’re somewhere far beyond my range of hearing!” Councillor Emery shouted from up ahead.

“You’re the one who came up with ‘Team Prodigious,’ aren’t you?” Dex called back, clearly not the least bit ashamed to know that the Council had been eavesdropping on their ridiculous conversation. “That’s why you’re so sensitive about it, huh?”

A whole lot of muttering followed.

Then there was silence—until Wylie called out the question that Sophie had been wondering as well: “How much longer is this going to take?”

“Why?” Emery asked. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“No,” Wylie admitted. “But… there’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll understand why this was your priority,” Emery assured him. “Once we announce your appointments, that is.”

“And when will that be?” Stina asked.

“Soon,” Emery told her. “We want the public to be aware of your elevated status as much as you do.”

Actually, Sophie would’ve been fine if her new title remained a classified secret. But she had a feeling she was the only one who wanted to avoid that particular attention.

“You’ll wait until we have our much-cooler new team name, though, right?” Dex clarified. “So you won’t have everyone making fun of Team Prodigious?”

Councillor Emery’s sigh echoed down the hall. “Yes, I suppose that would make sense. You five need to figure that out as quickly as possible.”

Which foolishly opened the door to a whole lot of team-name brainstorming between Dex and Biana. Sophie tuned them out somewhere between Team Hotness and Team Awesomesauce.

She shuffled closer to Wylie. “Is everything okay?” she whispered. “Nothing’s going on with your dad—”

“No, he’s fine,” Wylie interrupted. “Well… as fine as he ever is.”

Prentice was still recovering from all the years he’d spent trapped in the madness of his broken consciousness—and he’d probably never fully get back to his old self. His mind had been so shattered by the memory break that his memories had all but dissolved—including the information that Sophie had hoped to learn after she’d healed him, like what had made him call “swan song” before he was arrested.

“Did you mean you needed to talk to Linh, then?” she whispered. “To tell her about Tam?”

“No. She’s probably going to feel a little left out because the Council didn’t include her today. So dropping the Tam bomb on top of that seems pretty harsh. But I don’t want her to think I kept it from her either, so…” He blew out a breath.

“That’s super tricky,” Sophie admitted. “If there’s any way I can help, let me know.”