“Remember what I told you about King Enki,” he said as she followed him to the center of the muddy pool.

Bronte and Oralie had given Sophie a lengthy lesson that morning, once she’d showered and changed, going over all kinds of tedious protocols.

When to bow.

Where to look—and where to not look.

Proper responses to various phrases the king might say.

The importance of using titles—and having good posture.

But above all, they’d emphasized two things.

Authority and confidence.

She needed to display an abundance of both if she wanted the king to take her seriously.

And Sophie had been feeling pretty daunted by all of that back when she had freshly styled hair and a ton of glittering diamonds on her tunic.

She wasn’t sure how to pull it off as Lady Mud Monster.

But… she’d find a way.

“Are you ready?” Bronte asked.

Sophie tried to mean it when she nodded. But she had to add, “I’ll try not to mess anything up.”

“A worthy goal,” Bronte told her. “But I think you should aim higher. I meant what I said earlier. I have no doubt that you’ll be an incredible leader if you stop second-guessing yourself and commit.”

Sophie looked away, not sure what to do with the compliment besides mumble a quick “thanks.”

He nodded and stepped into position. But before the mud dragged him under, he cleared his throat and added, “For the record, Miss Foster, now that it’s just you and me—or I suppose I should say you, me, and your bodyguards—I… may not be your biological father, nor have I ever wanted to involve myself in that kind of experiment. But… if you were my daughter, I’d be very proud.”

His head disappeared into the sludge as he finished the last word, leaving Sophie staring at the mucky air bubbles he’d left behind, wondering if she’d imagined what he’d said—and trying to figure out what to do with that information if she hadn’t.

The shock stayed with her as she stumbled to the center and pointed her toes, her mind barely registering the slight tug on her ankles as the muck dragged her down, down, down, much farther than she’d been expecting.

And yet, she felt nothing.

Thought nothing.

Just held her breath and sank through the darkness, waiting for solid ground to steady her again.

And when she found it, along with fresh air and just enough soft, flickering light to see, she…

Didn’t know how to describe what was happening.

There was too much shouting, and laughing.

But mostly too much splattering.

So.

Much.

Splattering.

Tiny particles of brown were flying everywhere—kind of like a dust storm, but wetter and stickier and everything was somehow falling up, not down.

And the longer Sophie stood there, the lighter and softer and steadier she felt, until the air cleared, and her eyes focused, and… she didn’t know where to look, or what to think, or how, or why, or…

Clean.

It seemed like a good word to start with.

Because she was.

Her skin was smooth. Her hair was bouncy and shiny. And her clothes were completely spotless.

There was absolutely zero trace of any mud, grime, or grossness.

And Dex, Stina, Wylie, and Biana looked just as immaculate—as did Grady and Bronte.

Which brought Sophie’s mind back to the how—and she must’ve said it out loud, because Nubiti popped out of the sandy floor, pointed to one of the prism-shaped black stones set into the room’s cavelike ceiling, and told her, “Magsidian.”

“Magsidian,” Sophie repeated, feeling goose bumps prickle her arms.

Nubiti nodded. “These particular shards are cut to draw the earth to them. It’s how we clean up our visitors—and how we reinforce the cavern after someone’s arrival.”

Sophie squinted harder at the curved ceiling, and sure enough, it did seem to have a fresh layer of packed earth coating it. “That’s…”

She knew she probably should say “amazing”—but now that she knew what magsidian was made of, she found herself saying “weird.”

And what she really wanted to say was… “kinda scary.”

“So where are we?” she asked, studying the rest of the bubble-shaped room, which didn’t have much to see, honestly. The floor was made of packed, shimmering sand, and the ceiling was made of smooth, dark mud, and the walls were carved from a gray, marbled stone that had been polished to a perfect gleam. Every few feet there were arched nooks carved into the rock—lower than Sophie was used to, thanks to the dwarves’ shorter stature—where delicate glass jars flickered with tongues of pale orange fire, providing just enough light to reveal two hallways ahead.

One was narrow, but bright enough to tell that it curved to the left.

The other was a wide, black void of nothingness.

“We call this our Visitor Center,” Nubiti explained. “Those with permission to enter the city go that way”—she pointed to the path that Sophie very much hoped they were taking—“and those here for King Enki go this way.”

“I thought we were starting with a tour of the city,” Grady cut in when Nubiti turned to lead them toward the darker path.

“King Enki told me this morning that I must bring you to see him first,” Nubiti explained—and Sophie definitely didn’t miss the look that passed between Bronte and Grady.

Dex must’ve caught it too, because he asked, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Bronte said in a tone that wasn’t convincing. “But it’s rare for the king to change plans.”

“It is,” Nubiti agreed, not bothering to expand on that statement as she gestured for them to follow her into the shadows.

Grady sighed and reached for Sophie’s hand—which didn’t feel that strange until Bronte grabbed her other hand.

“It’s best to keep contact,” Bronte explained. “The King’s Path is… unsettling.”

“More unsettling than sinking through a gross bog?” Stina asked, reaching for Biana, who was already clinging to Dex.

Wylie completed their chain as Grady told them, “Unfortunately, yes.”

Dex sighed. “Why?”

A curl of white in the shadows caught Sophie’s eye, and it took her a second to realize it was Nubiti’s smile as the tiny dwarf told them, “We had to make sure the path to our king is a journey no intruder wants to make.”

“What about guests?” Sophie asked.

Nubiti’s smile faded. “To King Enki you are one and the same.”

TWENTY-FOUR

OKAY, SO BACK TO THAT lovely ‘unsettling’ description you gave us,” Biana said to Bronte as their group stared at the dark path ahead, none of them seeming eager to make the first step. “What exactly does that mean we’re in for? Steep drops? Eerie noises? Creepy-crawly things?”

“Really hope it’s not that last one,” Wylie mumbled.

Sophie definitely agreed.

“If it helps,” Nubiti called from somewhere in the shadows—and the whole disembodied-voice thing did not make her next words very reassuring—“everything you’re about to experience will live entirely in your minds. None of it will be real.”