The packed white sand making up the floor shimmered like a moonlit shoreline, and the earthy ceiling was flecked with silvery minerals like stars. A chandelier formed from interlocking rings of dangling, flame-filled glass jars cast a flickering orangey glow over everything. And the marbled walls had gorgeous swirled carvings inlaid with gold and silver and copper and lumenite and other metals that shone green and black and purple. Gemstones were set into the marble around the swirls: emeralds and rubies and topazes and sapphires and onyxes—though Sophie had a feeling some of the black stones were magsidian.

And in the center of it all, seated on a glittering black throne, was a small bald creature wearing white furry pants and a crown carved from a single piece of curved opalescent shell.

King Enki.

He snorted at their arrival. And his gritty voice sounded particularly gruff when he told them, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

TWENTY-FIVE

I’VE NEVER SEEN A DWARF without fur,” Stina whispered—though the words still felt way too loud in the echoey room. “It’s… odd.”

It totally was.

But that didn’t stop Sophie from elbowing Stina in the ribs—and wishing she could do the same to Dex for letting one muffled snicker slip.

Clearly she should’ve warned the rest of her teammates about King Enki’s unusual appearance ahead of time, so they would’ve been prepared for the surprise.

She’d have to add that to the list of ways she wasn’t exactly killing it as team leader.

King Enki might look a lot like a plucked chicken with mottled peach, brown, and black skin. But to the dwarves, the fur-waxing was a statement of their king’s power and strength.

Sophie wasn’t sure why a fur-free king communicated either of those things—but it didn’t matter.

She and her friends didn’t have to understand it.

They just needed to show their respect—especially since they’d already arrived late, and had forgotten to bow when they entered, which Sophie only realized after someone cleared their throat beside her.

Then she turned and saw that Grady had dropped to one knee and Bronte stood stooped at the waist—each position reflecting their titles of Emissary and Councillor.

As Regents, Sophie and her friends were supposed to drop to both knees—which they immediately scrambled to do.

Dex, Stina, Wylie, and Biana were also supposed to lower their heads.

But Sophie had to keep her head held high to show her authority. Which made it a lot harder to not flinch when the king’s gaze focused on her.

“My guards tell me you experienced some challenges on the Path here, Miss Foster,” he called out, making Sophie wince. And even though there was quite a bit of distance between them, Sophie could hear his claws tapping the armrests on his throne.

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

She wished she could turn to Nubiti for guidance, since she hadn’t forgotten her bodyguard’s warning about how King Enki would consider her struggles along the Path to be insulting. But she forced herself to remember what Bronte and Oralie had taught her.

“It’s Lady Foster,” she corrected, trying to channel Keefe’s smooth confidence as she held the king’s stare. “Leader of Team Valiant. And yes, your security definitely did pose a challenge. Clearly it’s been brilliantly designed.”

Authority and deference.

That’s what Bronte and Oralie had emphasized.

She needed to speak with conviction.

Demand recognition.

But also defer to the king’s authority—and give praise any chance she found.

From the corner of her eye, she could see both Bronte and Nubiti nod their approval.

But her relief was short-lived.

“If you find our security so impressive,” King Enki said with a lot more tickety-tapping, “I wonder why you’ve demanded this meeting to inspect it.”

“You know very well why we’re here,” Bronte cut in, straightening from his bow.

“Do I?”

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“Yes,” Bronte insisted.

King Enki inclined his head, making the light glint off of the smooth opalescent circle of his crown—which probably would’ve been an impressive accessory if Sophie weren’t so familiar with the creepy giant sand crab creature the shell came from. She could remember too many spindly, flailing legs to ever find it pretty.

“I thought I understood the purpose of this meeting,” King Enki said, and Sophie blinked back to attention, “right up until yesterday, when I found myself playing host to someone from the Black Swan.”

“The Black Swan?” Grady repeated, as Sophie blurted out, “Yesterday?” and Biana and Dex both asked Bronte, “Did you know about that?”

“We… were unaware of that meeting,” Bronte told King Enki after a beat of silence.

“Clearly.” Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap. “Which seems particularly strange to me, since I was told that many of you kneeling in front of me are members of the order.”

“We are,” Sophie agreed, hoping it was okay to shift back to standing. Her knees were starting to feel bruised—the sandy floor was much more solid than it looked.

She didn’t know how the rest of her teammates were managing to stay so still.

“Well, then surely you can understand why I find it both obnoxious and suspicious that these meetings weren’t combined,” King Enki informed her.

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“Either you’re wasting my time,” he added, “or the Council’s been overstating their supposedly improved relationship with the Black Swan.”

“If we were, do you think Miss Foster would be with us?” Bronte countered. “And as a Regent, no less? Leader of a vital new arrangement in our nobility?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine.” King Enki reached out his palm and curled his fingers—a gesture that Sophie had been told meant that she was supposed to approach the throne.

She didn’t dare glance at any of her friends, knowing the worry in their eyes would shred her already frazzled confidence. And the twenty-seven steps she took to cross the room felt like twenty-seven miles. She had to lock her arms at her sides to be sure she didn’t fidget as King Enki leaned closer, sniffing the air between them.

“So much fear,” he murmured.

“Can you blame me?” she asked, hoping the question would earn her points, both as honesty and a subtle compliment.

“No, I suppose I can’t.”

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“So… the moonlark now has a crown,” he said, leaning back against his throne again. “And she’s distanced herself from her creators.”

“I haven’t—” Sophie stopped herself, realizing that arguing with King Enki would only make things worse.

Instead, she straightened up, smoothing her golden cape and straightening the jeweled hem of her tunic before she told him, “I’ll always be their moonlark.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” he asked.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Sophie admitted, holding her breath through the silence that followed the confession.