she added under her breath, “I don’t think those stones are from the past.”
Nubiti looked somehow smaller as she whispered, “I… don’t either. I did not want to argue with my king. But… the facets carved into the magsidian were so sharp and precise that they had to be cut with modern tools.”
Sophie’s insides tangled up tighter than her old human earbuds. “Keep me posted?” she asked. “And let me know if there’s any way we can help?”
Nubiti nodded, grabbing Sophie’s arm before Sophie turned to rejoin her friends. “You know what I can’t stop wondering?” Nubiti asked, stepping closer so only Sophie would hear. “We saw how those stones react to light—but how will they respond to shadows?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Sophie admitted. And Nubiti’s raw honesty made Sophie lean in to share her own equally bone-chilling question. “But you know what really scares me?” she whispered directly into Nubiti’s ear. “If the security on the King’s Path relies on darkness to keep King Enki safe from intruders, what happens if the intruders have a Shade?”
* * *
“Three bodyguards is fine,” Sophie told Sandor as he paced back and forth across Havenfield’s living room.
“Right now it’s only two,” he reminded her. “I’m still figuring out other arrangements for Linh.”
“Then two is fine,” Sophie insisted, glad to know that Linh still had Bo protecting her. “Honestly, sometimes one feels like too many.”
She’d hoped Sandor would smile at the tease. But there was no lightening the goblin warrior’s scowl—not after Sophie’s group had used a special magsidian pendant to leap back to where he’d been standing guard in the oasis and told him about the horrifying hallucinations and the almost-inferno and how Nubiti had stayed behind to conduct the search that they were no longer allowed to do.
Then they’d leaped back to Havenfield, and Bronte and Grady had gotten on their Imparters while Sandor had stalked off to get Flori, and within about five minutes the downstairs main room had become very full.
Everyone who’d gone to Loamnore was still there.
Plus Edaline, Sandor, and Flori.
And the entire rest of the Council.
And Elwin—who was hard at work treating all their cuts and burns with various ointments and poultices.
The only person noticeably missing was Mr. Forkle.
Given the Black Swan’s secret meeting with King Enki the day before, Bronte and Grady had decided not to include him—or any members of the Collective—in their current conversation, which had started out as a long, brutal accounting of everything that had happened in Loamnore, followed by lots of panicked speculation, and had now somehow dissolved into another round of “How do we protect Sophie?”
But for once Sophie wasn’t bothered by their overprotection.
In a way, she was going to need it.
The whole journey back to Havenfield, her mind kept replaying the question they’d shouted as the fire had erupted around them.
How do we stop this?
Seemed like a fitting way to sum up their current Neverseen situation.
And sadly, she had no idea.
But Sophie did know that if it hadn’t been for Stina’s well-timed slap on the King’s Path, Sophie would’ve sabotaged their mission in Loamnore, which would’ve meant they’d never have discovered those magsidian pieces—not to mention the fact that she would’ve caused everyone excruciating pain while they were already struggling with horrific hallucinations.
If she’d needed proof that her inflicting was a problem—that was it.
Especially since Bronte hadn’t come close to raging out on everybody.
She wasn’t just malfunctioning.
She was becoming a liability.
And given what they were up against, they needed all the power they could get.
A knock at the front door interrupted her thoughts, and Sophie gave herself a quick eyelash tug as Grady asked, “Who could that be?”
Sophie already knew.
She’d hailed the wheezy, wrinkled figure who shuffled into the room, looking particularly uncomfortable—but whether his discomfort was from the bloating caused by the ruckleberries, or from the glares everyone was giving him, was anybody’s guess.
“I thought we’d agreed to keep the Black Swan out of this conversation,” Bronte grumbled, scanning each face like he was searching for a culprit.
“We did,” Sophie said, proud of how steadily she stood. “I invited him for a different reason.”
Her eyes locked with Mr. Forkle’s as she added, “I’m ready to let you reset my abilities.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE HAD PLANNED AHEAD FOR all of the What?, Why?, and How? questions she knew she’d be getting after she dropped the “ability resetting” bombshell on everybody—but she wasn’t prepared for how quickly the conversation shifted to a simple, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she said, echoing everyone as she studied