Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,234

worried.”

“They can handle themselves,” Sophie assured her, choking down a tiny stab of guilt.

Lady Gisela smirked. “You mean like your group? You lasted, what? Thirty seconds? Long enough to form one very foolish force field and end things before they even began?” Her smile widened when Maruca hung her head. “And now here we are, me in complete control and—”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this complete control,” Keefe corrected, “since, you know, the second you tell Tammy Boy to lower that force field, you’re going to have to face the wrath of Foster’s inflicting—which, bad news for you, is even more powerful when I’m here. Why do you think I decided to stop by?”

“That’s why?” Sophie asked, reeling toward him. “Seriously?”

“Much as I’d love to watch my son try to dig his way out of that,” Lady Gisela jumped in, “that’s not why he’s here—nor is it because of any threat you think I made in the note I left him. Or whatever mind games you think I’ve played. The simple truth is, my son is here because deep down he wants to fulfill his legacy. He wants to become everything he was made for.”

“Wow, you know me so well,” Keefe deadpanned. “Please, tell me more about my hopes and dreams.”

“Go ahead, hide behind your sarcasm and your attitude,” Lady Gisela told him. “I see the truth in you, Keefe. I always have. You’re an artist. A visionary. And you know the future I’ve created for you is your chance to be on the right side of history.”

Keefe blinked for a second, his mouth forming several different words before he choked out a laugh. “A visionary. Sure—that’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Then why are you?” Sophie asked again. “Why couldn’t you just keep your promise?”

Keefe sighed and shuffled his feet. “I… kept thinking about what you said—about wanting to come to Loamnore on our terms. And I realized that in all your talk about taking a stand, you never said anything about an exit strategy. So I thought I’d bring you one just in case—and… it looks like we’re going to need it. Good thing Linh has dwarven bodyguards.”

The words were still swimming through Sophie’s head when he tapped his toe again, and she finally realized what he was doing.

Dwarven bodyguards.

A signal.

And sure enough, the floor rumbled, and two dwarves burst into the room—directly under Maruca’s force field—and before Lady Gisela could finish shouting, “Stop them!” the new dwarves grabbed their king and Flori and dived back into the sand.

Safe.

“There go your hostages!” Keefe taunted while Lady Gisela turned to the cloaked figure on her left and told him, “NOW.”

Then everything went dark.

The force field.

Sophie’s and Wylie’s circlets.

The Councillors’ cloak pins.

The sconces by the door.

It was disorienting.

Overwhelming.

And Sophie wanted to run—wanted to hide—but this was her chance.

Focus, she told herself, opening her mind, searching for Lady Gisela’s thoughts.

If she could find her, she could inflict, and this would all be over.

But the darkness was so thick, it seeped into her consciousness.

Making her eyes heavy.

Her mind foggy.

“Is that all you’ve got?” a new voice asked—one that felt familiar, but Sophie’s cloudy brain couldn’t place it, until a blazing ball of orange flared to life, stinging Sophie’s eyes and filling the room with heat and light from a flickering fireball hovering over the hands of a girl who wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Did I not mention?” Keefe called from somewhere in the shadows. “I brought friends.”

“And fire beats darkness—every time,” Marella added, her smile glinting in the light of her flames.

“Does it?” Lady Gisela called—and Sophie tried to track the sound of the voice, now that her head was clearing.

But the fire was snuffed out, and the sleepiness settled in and—

Another new voice shouted, “Stop it, Tam!”

Sophie was pretty sure every person was thinking the same question.

But the only voice that whispered it out loud was dark and haunted.

A ghost in the shadows.

“Linh?”

The darkness thinned, and a black-cloaked figure melted out of the shadows, tossing back his hood as he strode forward, and another fireball flashed to life—blue this time, and casting a wide enough glow to reveal Linh standing next to Marella, still shaking sand out of her hair.

“How are you here?” he whispered, his silvery eyes turning glassy.

“Our bodyguards,” she told him, reaching out to gather his tears, letting them shine through the air around them. “And Keefe.”

The room dimmed again.

Marella swelled her fireball brighter, and Linh grabbed her brother’s arm, not letting him disappear.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. “I told