And she cringed at the sharp sound King Enki finally made—until she realized it was a single barked laugh.

“I think I could enjoy your company, Lady Foster,” he told her, looking even more surprised by the sentiment than she was. “If only you weren’t here to criticize my city.”

Sweat streamed down Sophie’s back, and she sucked in a steadying breath. “I—”

“No need to deny it,” King Enki interrupted. “And it may be unfair to hold it against you. It’s not your fault your Council has chosen to use you this way—sending you to face me, hoping I’ll be less inclined to offense if the criticisms come from a pretty young child.” His gaze shifted to someone over Sophie’s shoulder as he called out, “At least the Black Swan had the courage to face me leader-to-leader when they gave their unnecessary warnings!”

“Sophie is a leader,” Bronte called back.

“Yes, and what an impressive team you’ve made her a leader of,” King Enki scoffed. “Three children, and one who could hardly be called an adult. All still too afraid—or ignorant—to realize they could be standing.”

“We’re not afraid!” Biana shouted back, and Sophie tried not to flinch—or panic that the outburst would land Biana in a dwarven prison. “And we’re not ignorant, either,” Biana added. “We’re just… really bad at bowing, apparently.”

King Enki’s lips twitched with what was either a smile or a sneer.

“Such boldness,” he said, turning back to Sophie.

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“We may be young,” Sophie said quietly—but not timidly. “But we’ve lived through more than you would expect. And we’re not here to criticize. We’re trying to help. The Neverseen—”

“Yes, one of your creators already gave me the whole story yesterday,” King Enki interrupted. “I’ve heard alllllllllllllllllll about how my people will be the next targets of these villains that you keep failing to defeat. Just as I’ve heard alllllllllllllllllll of your worries about Shades and shadowflux and magsidian.”

His gaze shifted to Nubiti on the last word, and Sophie wondered if that meant he’d realized that Nubiti had found a loophole to defy him.

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

Sophie’s eyes followed the sound, and she realized his entire throne was a single carved block of magsidian.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” King Enki asked, trailing his fingers across the stone. “This is the largest piece we’ve ever found. The ultimate seat of power.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sophie murmured.

And it was.

The style of the throne was rougher than other ornate chairs usually used by kings and leaders—but there was something so elegant about its raw simplicity. It looked as if the dwarves had tried to cut the minimum number of facets into the magsidian—as if they wanted people to know that it was all their king needed.

Which made Sophie wonder what those cuts and carvings caused the throne to draw.

Justice?

Truth?

She didn’t ask.

Instead, she shared what Stina and Wylie had taught her right before they’d left for Loamnore, when she’d finally had them give her an update on their conversation with Lady Zillah.

“Did you know that some believe shadowflux was the first element, existing long before anything else?” she asked.

“I suppose that theory makes sense. Darkness is the natural state of things. We have to work to add light.”

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“You don’t like hearing that, do you?” he asked. “Given your species’ obsession with anything that glows.”

Sophie shrugged, hoping the gesture wasn’t too casual. “Personally, I’ve always been a fan of both. I think light and darkness each have their place, and the trick is to keep the right balance.”

He tilted his head.

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“Was there a point to that piece of trivia you just shared?” he asked.

“I’m getting there,” Sophie promised, daring a glance behind her.

The lighting was too dim for her to read Stina’s and Wylie’s expressions. But they weren’t waving their arms trying to get her to stop, either.

So she told King Enki, “Some people also believe that since shadowflux was first, its influence can be felt in everything. Which would make it the most powerful of all the elements—and a power that strong can never truly be contained, even when we think it has been.”

She gestured toward his magsidian throne.

“What are you implying?” King Enki asked.

“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “Everything about shadowflux feels so abstract to me. All I know for certain is that it’s brutal. And unlike anything I’ve experienced. And it changes everything it touches.”

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

“The Black Swan essentially told me the same thing yesterday. But I’m still failing to see what the information has to do with my people. I do not fear a few rebel elves—or a few traitors from my own kind. Our security is stronger than it’s ever been.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sophie told him. “But isn’t it safer to double-check?”

“The Black Swan did check. I allowed them to search for an entire hour.”

“Okay… then triple-checking won’t hurt either, will it?” Sophie pressed. “I wish Mr. Forkle—”

“It wasn’t him,” King Enki interrupted again, leaning closer to sniff the air between them. “You really didn’t know about yesterday’s meeting, did you?”

Sophie shook her head. “Who did you meet with?”

Tickety tap. Tickety tap. Tickety tap.

She thought he wasn’t going to answer. But eventually he said, “The rocky one.”

“Granite?” she clarified.

King Enki nodded. “He’s often our point of contact. But go on. You were saying something you wished about the Black Swan.”

She had been, but she’d lost her train of thought, trying to figure out why Tiergan would’ve gone to Loamnore without telling her—or Wylie.

“Right,” she said, trying to focus. “I was just going to say that… I wish the Black Swan had let us know that they’d be meeting with you. They’re good at keeping secrets—which you probably know after so many years of working with them.”

King Enki had often sided with the Black Swan over the Council.

“And I’m sorry if you feel like we’re wasting your time, or doubting your power or your security,” Sophie added. “I hope Loamnore isn’t a target—and if it is, I hope the Neverseen end up writhing and sobbing in the King’s Path from their hallucinations. Feel free to leave them in there if that happens.”

That earned her a twitchy partial smile from the king.

“But I’ve watched the Neverseen win over and over and over,” she added quietly. “And they generally strike the places we feel the safest. You were there when Lumenaria fell—and you’ve helped us rebuild our other fallen cities. Would you have ever imagined that kind of destruction would happen?”