Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(139)

She waited until they reached the next level—another row of barred doorways, which was thankfully ogre-free—before she transmitted, Can I open my mind to your thoughts?

Alvar appeared at her side. “I don’t like people in my head,” he whispered. “Hazard of growing up with a telepathic father.”

“Okay,” she said, stumbling back a step. “I just wanted to tell you the plan.”

“I thought the plan was to grab the cure and run.”

“That’ll be part of it,” Sophie said. “We’re also going to create a distraction—”

“Bad idea,” Alvar interrupted.

“I know it’s dangerous, but we need something to keep King Dimitar busy, so Fitz and I have a chance to probe his mind.”

“WHAT?” Alvar’s whisper was so loud it sounded screechy. “Are you crazy?”

“We have to try,” she insisted. “There might be more to the Neverseen’s plan than we realize, and this is our chance to find out.”

Alvar shook his head so hard his hood slipped off. “You’re changing too many things.”

“No we’re not. We’re just taking every opportunity we get,” Fitz whispered.

“Um, guys,” Tam interrupted. “We’re in the middle of Ravagog. All this debating is going to get us killed.”

Alvar swore under his breath and pulled his hood back over his head. “Fine. Let’s keep moving. Transmit the plan to me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Sophie glanced at her friends, who seemed as unsure as her. Her plan had needed Alvar to be a lot more committed than he sounded.

As they climbed the next flight of stairs, she made a last-minute amendment. Originally she’d been thinking Alvar could share Keefe’s role, but she didn’t know him well enough to trust him with that responsibility.

She transmitted the change to Keefe before telling Alvar, All you have to do is stay invisible—and when it’s time to run, guide us back to the tunnel. If you have a problem with that, let me know.

He stayed silent.

They made their way up two more levels, one busy with ogres, the other mostly empty, until they reached a staircase by a waterfall.

“Next level’s the Triad,” Alvar whispered. “Last chance to see reason.”

“We’re doing this,” Keefe said, his voice shaky.

He looked like the boy Sophie had seen in the physician’s tent at Exillium, but that was who she needed him to be at the moment.

She turned to her friends, and one by one they all signaled to show they were ready.

Alvar sighed. “Let’s hope nobody dies.”

Sophie refused to let the warning shake her, as Linh blanketed them in so much mist it soaked their cloaks. Alvar took the lead, with Sophie right behind. Which meant she was the first to get a glimpse of the Triad.

The level had no railing. Just a sheer, deadly edge lined with cold metal pillars that supported the black metal awning overhead. The space was a triangle, and at the farthest point, a twisted tangle of metal formed a barbed throne, overlooking the entire kingdom. Perched proudly in the center, still wearing nothing more than his metal diaper, was King Dimitar.

A dozen ogre guards were lined up on either side of him, each one big enough to wrestle a bear one-handed. Resting at his feet was a small metal chest locked by a single round padlock, surely the cure, set out like bait.

It wasn’t too late to turn back. They might even make it out of Ravagog safely. But they needed that box—and more than that, they needed the truth.

She took one steadying breath and gave her friends the signal.

Tam called more shadows as Dex scooped up Calla and everyone except Keefe locked hands. They levitated to the top of the metal awning, hoping the roar of the waterfalls covered the soft thunk as they touched down.

Keefe waited until they were all safely out of sight.

Then he threw back his hood and stepped out of his shaded hiding spot, shouting, “I demand an audience with the king!”





SIXTY-NINE


SOPHIE WAS PRETTY sure the elves didn’t have anything like the Academy Awards, but if they did, she would’ve given one to Keefe for his performance as the Desperate Runaway.

He managed to hide his anger and look both terrified and innocent as King Dimitar’s guards swarmed around him.

“I’m unarmed,” Keefe promised. “And I’m not here because of the Council. In fact, they banished me weeks ago.”

“Bring him to me,” King Dimitar ordered.

His guards dragged Keefe forward, the largest one pinning Keefe’s hands behind his back with a single meaty fist.

King Dimitar scraped at his pointed teeth as he asked, “Do you know what happens to those who trespass in my city?”

Keefe bowed his head. “Most trespassers mean you harm. I’m just here for answers.”

“So you’re not here for this?” King Dimitar scooted the locked chest forward with his clawed toes.

“I don’t know what’s in there,” Keefe said, “but it has nothing to do with me.”

King Dimitar nodded at his guard, who lifted Keefe by his neck. “If you’d like to continue breathing, you’ll tell me how you succeeded in entering my city.”

“Kind of hard to talk when you’re choking me,” Keefe wheezed.