Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,150

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.

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,