Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,97

minutes earlier—but he squared his shoulders and told her, “I’ve got this.”

“You do,” she agreed.

“We do,” he corrected, holding out his hand.

Sophie gave her parents one more squeeze before she pulled away and reached for Dex, leading him through the pastures, toward the Cliffside gate.

She figured they might as well jump this time. Make it a true leap of faith.

And even though Sandor and Lovise were clearly less than thrilled with this development, they made no further protests—even when their small group stepped to the cliff’s edge.

Waves churned below, and a cold, salty breeze whipped through Sophie’s hair as she rallied her concentration and pictured where they were heading.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing Sandor’s hand as Lovise clung to Dex. “Let’s go to London!”

* * *

“What is this place?” Dex asked, squinting through the bars of the iron-and-gold gate, at the large stone structure beyond, which looked…

A little plain, if Sophie was being honest.

Sure, there were intricate columns. And rows of windows. And a very recognizable balcony. And Sophie was positive that if she went inside, she’d find an abundance of chandeliers and tapestries and antiques and paintings—not to mention the immaculate flower beds and pristine lawn behind them, along with a huge, fancy fountain.

But… after living in a world of jeweled cities and crystal castles, there just wasn’t as much sparkle as there should be—especially considering where they were.

She’d been planning to take Dex to Westminster Abbey, but as they’d crashed their way through the void, she’d realized that if they were looking for a spot in London with a lot of security cameras, Buckingham Palace was probably the best place to go.

“This is the queen’s residence in London,” she told Dex as she tried to find a less crowded spot to stand in, even though no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

Dex squinted at the palace. “Their queen is a white-haired lady, right? I think I saw some pictures of her when I was researching about the cameras.”

“Yeah, Queen Elizabeth,” Sophie said. “I don’t know much about her. Just that she likes little dogs and wears a lot of hats. And I think that flag means she’s actually here right now.” She pointed to the red, gold, and blue standard flying from a pole in the center of the palace, instead of the British Union Jack. “Same with the fact that there are four of those guys instead of two.”

She nudged her chin toward the four members of the queen’s guard, standing stolid and motionless in what appeared to be narrow blue houses. The soldier’s faces looked blank, but Sophie had no doubt their eyes were seeing everything, and it made her hope the obscurer was keeping them hidden—especially when she noticed their guns.

“So wait—the dorky guys in the red coats with the big furry hats are important?” Dex asked, covering his mouth to block a giggle. “And you had the nerve to complain about our Foxfire uniforms!”

“Hey—I never had to wear anything like that. That’s strictly a British soldier thing!”

“Soldier?” Dex repeated, frowning at the guards. “So… is that uniform supposed to be intimidating? Because I feel like if a dude marched up to an army of ogres wearing that, he’d mostly get laughed at.”

“Goblins definitely wouldn’t be able to suppress their snickers,” Sandor noted, his lips twitching with a smile.

“I think it’s supposed to be traditional,” Sophie told them, shrugging. “I don’t know. Like I said, I grew up in the U.S. Soldiers wear camouflage over there.”

Dex shook his head. “It’s so weird to me, the way humans divide up their own species. Don’t they realize they’d be stronger as a larger, united group?”

“I don’t think they care,” Sophie admitted. “They don’t know that they need to be stronger, you know? They have no idea that there are elves or goblins or ogres or trolls or dwarves or gnomes to think about.”

And Sophie was struck, in that moment, by how truly other she felt standing there, watching the crowds of tourists posing for selfies outside the palace, with buses and cars driving past and a light drizzle peppering her skin—and it wasn’t just because London was such a very different place from San Diego, where she grew up.

The air felt too heavy in her lungs—thick from all the pollution. And the smell of chemicals and car exhaust turned her stomach.

And the noise.

Even with her mind shielded from the bombardment of blaring human thoughts, everything was still so very loud. Shouted snatches of conversations. Sirens and