Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(140)

“Let him breathe.”

The guard loosened his grip enough to let Keefe suck in a ragged breath.

King Dimitar repeated his question.

“Old gnomish or dwarven tunnel,” Keefe rasped. “By the river. It collapsed as I crawled through.”

Sophie had known Keefe was a brilliant liar, but she’d never fully appreciated his talent. He’d blended just enough truth to sell his story, and misdirected the ogres far away from the real tunnel.

“Put him down,” King Dimitar said, and the guard dropped Keefe like trash.

Keefe collapsed to his knees and hacked and wretched. Each anguished sound twisted Sophie’s heart.

He’ll be okay, Fitz transmitted. He’s probably laying it on thick for sympathy.

If that was Keefe’s plan, it wasn’t working.

“Elves are such weaklings,” the King said, jumping down from his throne. “Your only asset is your mind—and I could crush your skull with my thumb.”

“Maybe,” Keefe said, rising shakily to his feet. “But you don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, I believe I do,” King Dimitar said, wrapping a meaty hand around Keefe’s head.

Keefe didn’t struggle. He even sounded calm as he said, “Then you’ll never know what I came here to tell you.”

King Dimitar leaned closer, sniffing Keefe’s neck. “I know you’re not one of the rebels.”

His claws shredded Keefe’s black cloak, leaving him in his green cape, brown vest, black shirt with . . .

“Interesting,” King Dimitar said, tracing a claw over the black Neverseen armband. “They claimed only their own knew this detail. And you do look familiar.”

“Must be the family resemblance,” Keefe said. “Which is also how I know about this.” He pinched his Neverseen armband before covering it with his cape. “My mother is Lady Gisela.”

The king didn’t blink.

“Okay, maybe you know her better as the elf you tortured a few weeks ago, and had dragged into the mountains,” Keefe told him.

“Oh, her.” King Dimitar sounded so gleeful it made Sophie want to vomit. “The disappointment.”

Tam shadow-whispered in Sophie’s ear, “This isn’t going well.”

Too early to tell, she transmitted back, hoping she was right.

She didn’t know how Keefe found the strength to stay so calm as King Dimitar circled him, studying him from all sides. “Please, King,” Keefe whispered. “I came here to know if she’s still alive.”

“Of course you did.” He tilted Keefe’s chin up with a claw. “The question is, why would I tell you?”

“Because I can tell you a secret about the alicorns.”

Sophie’s hands curled into fists. It was what she’d told him to say—but she still hated it.

She knew Keefe would have to offer King Dimitar a secret he would actually consider valuable. And it couldn’t be something that would cripple the elvin world, either. So, she’d chosen the secret she knew could only be kept for so long.

“Why do you think I have any interest in a pair of winged horses?” King Dimitar asked.

“Because you know the Council would do anything to protect them,” Keefe said. “They care about them even more than they care about that.” He pointed to the locked chest. “They know they can keep at least a few colonies of gnomes alive. But if you take the alicorns, they have no other options.”

Now he had the King’s attention, and Sophie hoped he’d be able to keep stalling long enough for the next phase of the plan.

Ready? she transmitted, slipping into Fitz’s mind.

Think this is going to work? he asked.

It has to. If he catches us, we’re all dead.

With that cheerful prospect, they locked eyes and stretched their consciousness toward King Dimitar.

It’ll feel soft, she warned Fitz. Almost smothering.

We can do this, Fitz told her. It’s what we’ve been training for.

Together they pushed into King Dimitar’s mind, falling through a sea of feathers. It felt like they’d been plummeting forever, but then they crashed into a pillow stuffed with dandelion fluff and suffocated in the fuzz.

Someday Sophie wanted to understand why ogres’ cruel, murderous minds felt like giant marshmallows. But for the moment, she just wanted to survive.

Fitz’s consciousness stuck close to hers and they pooled their energy, bracing for King Dimitar to discover them.

Thirty seconds ticked by. Then a full minute.

When another minute passed, Sophie decided they were safe.

They couldn’t transmit to each other without giving themselves away, but Fitz knew to follow her lead. She imagined the fractals of his emotional center and without even trying, a portion of her consciousness drifted there. The other portion of her mind waded deeper into the sweltering cotton candy.

Hopelessness swelled as the softness seemed to expand around her, but Fitz beat it back with a rush of confidence. And when his emotions turned weary gray, she boosted him with a rush of energy. Together, they balanced each other and kept pushing, pushing, pushing until finally, with a firm tug, Sophie peeled back the last veil of King Dimitar’s mind.

Darkness lurked beyond—an inky pool of poison waiting to drown her.