Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(126)

It wasn’t fair—if she had to have Fintan back, why couldn’t she have Kenric, too?

But Sir Astin was right. Kenric would never let Oralie suffer. Just watching her thrash and flail and sob broke Sophie’s heart.

Fintan turned to the goblins, who’d huddled up to work out a plan. “Remember, the only reason these flames aren’t devouring this building is because I’m holding them back. If anything happens to me, this whole city burns.”

“This is madness,” Councillor Terik shouted at Fintan.

“No—it’s called taking action,” Fintan snapped back. “A new concept for you, I realize. I remember when I was a Councillor. Always sitting back, thinking we needed more time, more information, more thorough consideration. We claimed it proved our superior wisdom. But really? We were cowards. Afraid to make the hard choices and do what needed to be done.”

“And what are you accomplishing by killing innocent gnomes?” Emery shouted.

“It’s called getting your attention,” Fintan said. “We have a plan—one I wish I could take credit for, but that’s owed to our previous leader. It’s a shame she couldn’t be here to see her vision realized. In the end, she was a coward too. She wanted to think more. So I removed her to see the Lodestar Initiative through.”

Keefe’s hand fell slack in Sophie’s, and she needed Dex’s help to keep him steady when Lord Cassius shouted, “What have you done to my wife?”

“Nothing more than she deserved,” King Dimitar said, reminding everyone that Fintan wasn’t the only monster among them. “And no more than I’d be willing to do to any of you.”

“Is that a threat?” Councillor Bronte shouted.

“It’s an end to the ridiculous charade we keep playing,” King Dimitar told him. “Aren’t you as tired of it as I am? You despise us every bit as much as we despise you. And were your minds not so pitifully weak, you would’ve attacked us long ago.”

“And if you didn’t know we could beat you, you would’ve attacked us,” Councillor Emery snapped.

“For the moment,” King Dimitar agreed. “But let’s see what happens when we cut off your resources.”

“Yes, let’s,” Fintan said, turning to the gnomes. “Everything the Council told you about the drakostomes is true—with the exception of one crucial detail.” He paused to make sure he had their full attention before he added, “There is a cure.”

King Dimitar reached into his metal diaper and pulled out a narrow test tube filled with a muddy liquid. Sophie wasn’t sure which disgusted her more—where that test tube had been, or the fact that the ogres had withheld the cure all this time.

“You didn’t honestly believe we wouldn’t save some of the Panakes bark, did you?” King Dimitar asked the Council.

“So here’s how this is going to work,” Fintan told the gnomes. “You agree to our deal, and we’ll give you the cure to save your ailing kinsmen. There should be enough time to save them—no thanks to the Council and their stalling.”

“And what is your deal?” Councillor Emery asked.

“I’m not talking to you. This decision is entirely up to the gnomes. Are you listening?” he asked them. “I’m only going to say this once. We’re willing to share the cure on a single condition. You must leave the Lost Cities and serve in Ravagog.”

“The gnomes do not serve us,” Councillor Zarina shouted.

“I love that you’ve managed to believe that lie after all this time. Perhaps you leave their chores to their discretion. Perhaps you tell them they can leave anytime. But they’ve been trapped by their ignorance, and those who dared to live beyond the Lost Cities had no knowledge of the danger of their situation. You also left them without a homeland, by your choice, not theirs, and your word that it was the request of their leaders.”

“It was!” Bronte shouted. “Every decision we made was in an effort to protect your people. We can see now that there were flaws in our reasoning—but don’t confuse the situation. The villains are not those who shielded you from the truths of these revelations. It’s those who broke the treaty and unleashed the plague. Those who stand before you now ready to enslave you, not save you.”

“It’s true,” Fintan told the gnomes. “Our offer isn’t one of freedom. You will serve the ogres in Ravagog. But your loved ones will survive this infestation.”

“I have a project for you,” King Dimitar added. “One that requires your special talents. Serve me well and you have my word that I’ll never unleash the drakostomes again.”

“Why should we believe you?” someone shouted, and again, Sophie wondered if it was Calla’s voice. “How do we know the cure is even real?”

“We’re willing to prove it,” Fintan said, nodding at King Dimitar.

King Dimitar flung the test tube toward the Pures, and the gnomes scrambled to catch it before it shattered.

“Test it,” Fintan told them. “And as you watch it work, keep in mind that—by their own admission—the Council has tried to create a similar remedy for nearly five thousand years. They can’t provide you with a cure. And you can’t cure yourselves. We’re the only ones who can help.”