If barbed wire were as thick as King Dimitar’s head and sharpened to a wicked point, it would look a lot like his blade. A single stroke likely wouldn’t just kill someone, it would disembowel them.
“Oh, relax,” King Dimitar said in his painfully familiar voice as the goblins pointed their curved swords at his chest. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
“And if your presence was welcome, we would’ve invited you,” Councillor Emery countered.
King Dimitar smiled—a cruel curve made jagged by his pointed teeth. “You accuse me. That’s invitation enough. If you’re going to insinuate that my people are behind this plague—”
“Do you deny it?” Councillor Emery interrupted.
“I don’t deny that the drakostomes exist. Nor that they are one of my favorite possessions. But tell me this: Have you found any signs of ogres at the sites of the infestations?”
The Council’s silence made his smile stretch wider. “That’s what I thought.”
The gnomes resumed their cries, hurling insults and accusations. Councillor Emery called them to order before he told the king, “Evidence can be missed.”
“Or it can never be left in the first place.” He stalked closer to the goblins, forcing them back a step before turning to the crowd. “Your rebels came to me with this grand scheme for domination. I’ve simply sat back and watched it unfold.”
“He’s right,” a new voice shouted from somewhere high above them.
Gasps echoed through the city as a black-cloaked figure waved from the roof of an amethyst and emerald tower. Even from that height, the white eye symbol on his sleeve taunted them.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” the figure told the goblins scaling the walls to arrest him. He snapped his fingers, and a sphere of neon yellow Everblaze sparked to life over his left hand. “You just rebuilt this city, didn’t you?” he asked the Council. “I suspect you’d prefer not to do it again. Especially since this time I hardly think you can count on the gnomes to help.”
King Dimitar laughed, picking bits of something Sophie didn’t want to identify out of the jagged barbs of his blade. “Now you see my new strategy. I don’t have to defeat the elves. You’ll do that yourselves.”
“Why?” Councillor Emery asked, his eyes focused on the Neverseen figure. “Why would you harm so many innocent gnomes?”
“Because sometimes you have to let things burn to let something better rise from the ashes.” He tossed the fireball up and caught it with his other hand a split second before it would’ve ignited the building. “And let’s not ignore the role you’ve played. We’ve been waiting for you to come forward, confess the secrets you’ve kept. We timed each release of the plague in careful stages—and look how many it took to get us here today. Even now, you only stand there because the gnomes pieced things together. That’s become the elvin way, secrets and lies, while those who depend on you suffer in ignorance. But things don’t have to stay that way!”
Sophie tried to think, but every time the flames flickered, her mind was paralyzed by memories of the jeweled buildings melting into glittering lava.
She was too lost in the past to ask the question Dex asked next—the question that changed everything: “There’s no way to grow back a hand, right?”
The logic shattered her panic, and in the brief seconds of clarity she managed to realize, “That’s not Brant.”
In fact, now that her brain was catching up, she recognized the raspy tone of the figure’s voice.
“No,” she whispered. “It . . . it can’t be.”
But she knew it was, even before the figure pulled back his black hood.
“I’m tired of disguises,” he said. “Tired of living like I’m the one with something to hide. Tired of letting you think I fear you. I stand before you now as the future of our world, every bit as unstoppable as my flames.”
Sophie stared in horror at the face that was every bit as real as it was impossible.
Blond hair.
Slender features.
Cold blue eyes.
“Surprise,” he said as Oralie screamed and Terik had to hold her back.
Somewhere in the chaos Sophie could hear King Dimitar laughing. But she was too shocked to feel anything.
Fintan had survived the Everblaze.
SIXTY-TWO
HOW COULD HE be alive?” Sophie asked. “Alden saw the flames overwhelm him.”
“Clearly there was some trick,” Sir Astin whispered.
“Does that mean—”
“No.” He cut her off before she could fully form the question. “Kenric is gone.”
“So was Fintan!”
“Yes. But do you think Kenric would let us mourn his loss? Let that thought go—now. It will only distract you from our actual problem.” He pointed to the roof, where Fintan stood, stroking the smoke around the Everblaze as if it were his pet.
It wasn’t fair—if she had to have Fintan back, why couldn’t she have Kenric, too?