He winked as he said it, and Sophie clung to the tease, letting it rein her emotions back until they were much less sappy.
That’s NOT what you guys are going to call me, she told him.
Wylie grinned. Keep telling yourself that.
“Uh, is there something you two wanna share with the rest of the team?” Stina asked, her voice jarringly loud after all the whispering and transmitting.
Sophie glanced down, surprised to see Stina’s hand wrapped around her wrist.
She had no idea when that happened.
She also had no idea when they’d stopped walking.
Or how long everyone—including all twelve Councillors—had been watching her and Wylie.
But she hoped her red spotlight camouflaged her flushed cheeks.
“Just a trust exercise,” Wylie said smoothly. “To make sure we can work together, since Sophie and I have a complicated history.”
The Council looked mostly satisfied with the explanation.
Dex and Biana, not so much.
And Stina tightened her grip on Sophie’s wrist.
“Is this where we’re taking our oaths?” Sophie asked, yanking her arm free and turning to survey where they were standing, which was basically a dark dead end. She could see nothing but the faint outline of solid diamond walls and one small silver door that looked more gnome-height than elf-height.
“This is how we reach the place where we’ll make our oaths,” Councillor Emery corrected, because nothing with the elves could ever be quick or simple.
The door slid silently open as he approached, brightening the dark hall with a rectangle of light that spilled from wherever they were heading. The doorway itself stretched several feet deep, so it was impossible to see the room they were about to enter.
Emery’s spotlight vanished when he reached the threshold, and he had to stoop and shuffle forward with strange, almost pigeonlike movements in order to pass through without conking his head—as did the rest of the Councillors when they followed one by one. They disappeared from sight after a few steps, but Sophie could hear their stumbling footfalls continue on, picking up a hollow tone once they’d entered the room beyond.
“I’m assuming there’s a reason you guys didn’t make the door taller?” Dex called after them, frowning at the abundance of untouched wall that could’ve easily been cut away to make the opening a normal size. “And a reason why the doorway’s so deep?”
“Yes” was all Emery shouted back.
Sophie shared a look with her friends before Stina shrugged and followed the Councillors—and the amount of bending and slouching she had to do was both hilarious and impressive. Wylie didn’t look nearly as graceful when it was his turn. Neither did Dex. But of course Biana found a way to saunter through the doorway like a celebrity on the red carpet. And Sophie was the clumsiest of them all—though, in her defense, her gown was also the poofiest, and the layers of tulle made the process a special kind of impossible.
The strange tunnel-like doorway turned out to have a second door on the other end, which slid shut as soon as Sophie passed through, leaving her no choice but to shove her way deeper into the crowded, tiny room. She bumped so many limbs along the way that she was sure she’d have a few bruises the next day. And her face ended up smashed into someone’s armpit.
She didn’t want to know whose.
Claustrophobia wasn’t something she usually wrestled with, but she couldn’t help staring at the low ceiling and curved diamond walls around her—which lacked any trace of windows or other doors—feeling like she’d just been locked inside a super-blinged-out, elf-size hamster ball, packed with sixteen other people.
The urge to shove everyone out of her way and pound on the only exit until someone let her out reared up hard—but she tamped it down, worming toward the edge of the group and pressing her back to the cool wall.
“This is the Paragon,” Emery explained. “You five are the only non-Councillors to ever set foot inside of it.”
“Lucky us,” Sophie mumbled, sucking in a slow breath and trying not to wonder how the room got any fresh air. She didn’t see any vents, or even any tiny gaps between the wall’s honeycomb-shaped diamond bricks.
And it did not help when Councillor Emery pointed to the golden key securing his cape and told them, “You won’t be able to return to the Paragon—or leave—without one of these.”
“I know it’s bit cramped,” Councillor Oralie added, her lovely eyes flashing with sympathy as they met Sophie’s. “But that’s only temporary.”
“How temporary?” Stina asked, sounding almost as miserable as Sophie felt.
“A matter of minutes,” Emery promised. “Brace yourselves.”
“For what?” Dex asked, but the Councillors were too busy bumping into each other as they struggled to reach their key-shaped cloak pins. Once their hands were in position, they each pressed their right index finger against the bit piece of the key, holding it there until a low rumble vibrated the floor.
“It’s best if you keep your eyes open for this next part,” Emery advised, drawing in a breath before he added, “Here we go.”
The Councillors pressed their keys once more, and the floor rumbled again—harder this time. And then…
… nothing.
Seconds ticked by—so many that Sophie became convinced they’d be stuck in there for all eternity, or until they ran out of air, whichever came first. And she was about to start clawing at the walls when the Paragon rattled hard enough to leave everyone wobbling.
Sophie had barely regained her balance when the room seemed to roll forward and bounce up at the same time, triggering gasps and yelps and a whole lot of squealing and flailing—but only from Sophie and her friends. The Councillors barely seemed to notice as the Paragon blasted up and up and up some more—faster, faster, faster. Her eyes watered and her ears popped and her stomach dropped into her toes—which, she was stunned to realize, were no longer touching the floor.
“Why are we weightless?” she asked, trying to wrap her brain around the strange physics of their situation. By all counts, gravity should be pushing down against their upward momentum, shouldn’t it?
“The Paragon is actually spinning really fast,” Councillor Terik told her, swinging his prosthetic leg—which moved so much smoother when it wasn’t having to support his weight. “So fast that your eyes can’t see it. That’s why it’s best to keep them open—your brain believes the illusion and doesn’t let your body feel the effects of the motion.”
All Sophie could say was, “Oh.”
And she had to force herself to stop thinking about it, because the more she tried to picture how fast they had to be spinning in order for any of that to be remotely possible, the closer she came to throwing up—and vomiting in a small, spinning room filled with sixteen other people could quickly reach nightmare levels of grossness.
“Shouldn’t we be slowing down?” Biana asked, her voice calmer than the question probably should’ve merited. “We must be near the top of one of the towers by now.”
“We are,” Emery agreed. “Which is why we need more speed.”
All twelve of the Councillors pressed the bits of their golden key-pins again, and a tiny whimper slipped through Sophie’s lips as another rumble rocked the room and made her feet drift farther off the floor. She was pretty sure she now understood how Charlie would’ve felt in Mr. Wonka’s Great Glass Elevator as he hurtled toward the ceiling of the chocolate factory. And she couldn’t help imagining all of them getting cut to ribbons as they crashed through the roof of the diamond palace.
But there was no collision—no shower of jagged shards or fiery explosion.
Just a much louder rumble as the Paragon flooded with shimmering light, which Sophie assumed meant they’d somehow left the Seat of Eminence and were now flying over Eternalia. There was no way she was looking down to verify—not that she expected to be able to see through all the glittering facets of the spinning diamond stones. But on the
off chance that she could… ignorance was better.
“Where exactly are we going?” Dex asked, shielding his eyes from the glare.
“To the Point of Purity for the Prime Sources,” Emery told him, and Sophie was glad she wasn’t the only one staring at him like he’d answered the question in a different language.
“Honestly,” Bronte scoffed, “what is Foxfire teaching these days?”
Councillor Alina rested her hands on her hips. “Don’t look at me—the Council set the curriculum, not the principal.”
“And yet you haven’t made any corrections—or even any suggestions—now that you’ve been appointed to our ranks,” Bronte noted.
Alina rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been a little busy cleaning up all the messes I inherited from the rest of you.”
“The Prime Sources,” Emery cut in, before any of the other Councillors could turn Alina’s dig into an argument, “are sunlight, moonlight, and starlight.”
“So… we’re going into space right now,” Sophie clarified, really hoping she was wrong about that. The elves had pulled off some amazing feats—but space travel in an oversize diamond hamster ball?
Without even giving them special suits to make sure they’d be able to breathe?
Or seat belts?
Or anything?
“Not quite,” Oralie assured her. “The Point of Purity is a very specific spot in our atmosphere, where we can access the purest version of each type of light without any contamination or filtering. We should be there any second.”
Except they weren’t.
Five hundred and twenty-nine seconds later they were still climbing—and yes, Sophie counted. It was the only way to stop herself from thinking about how impossibly high they must be. And from wondering how they were ever going to get back down safely. And from noticing how stuffy it was getting inside the Paragon, thanks to all the bodies and the sunlight. The sweat trickling down her back felt like ants crawling on her skin.
Around the seven-hundred-second mark, the light shifted, fading from warm yellow to a soft blue, and Sophie was too relieved by the rush of cool air to wonder what that meant. She didn’t even care when cool turned to cold. Or when cold turned to shivering. She just wrapped her cape tighter around herself and watched her breath puff out in tiny clouds, relieved to finally not feel like she was slowly melting away.
“Brace yourselves,” Emery warned again—not that there was anything to grab ahold of. And it would’ve been nice if there had been, since the stop was about as smooth as a teenage driver slamming on the brakes.
Sophie was a few seconds from face-planting into the floor when strong hands hauled her back to her feet.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, blinking at her savior.
She knew she was having a strange day when ending up in Bronte’s arms wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened.
“Give yourself a second to adjust to the altitude,” Oralie told her, catching Sophie by her shoulders when she tried to stand on her own—and nearly collapsed again.
“How come you guys aren’t affected?” Biana asked as both Councillor Darek and Councillor Liora helped steady her.
Councillor Alina and Councillor Zarina were keeping Stina upright, Councillor Clarette and Councillor Noland each had their arms hooked around Dex’s elbows, and Councillor Ramira and Councillor Velia had lunged to catch Wylie when he’d toppled forward.
“We have these,” Councillor Terik said, pointing to his key-pin—and looking far steadier than Sophie and her friends were, even with his cane. “A clever Technopath built altitude stabilizers into them, as well as some features that help with motion sickness and balance.”
“I suppose we should’ve had something similar made for you,” Emery murmured. “Hazard of being the first to share this experience. You’re going to expose all the flaws in the system.”
“Does that mean you’re planning on appointing more Regents like us?” Stina asked, trying to tame her curls, which now looked like someone had rubbed her head with a balloon. “Or making more teams or whatever?”
“That depends on whether or not you succeed,” Emery told her.
Dex snorted. “Great, no pressure.”
“You should absolutely feel pressure,” Emery said, and the diamonds in his crown seemed to glint with the warning. “You’ve had a lot of fun making jokes today, Mr. Dizznee, but I hope you truly understand the gravity of the responsibility you’re taking on. Fail at your assignment and it’s likely that people will perish.”
“Yeah, what else is new?” Dex snapped back. “You realize how normal that is for us, right? We’ve been facing those kinds of odds for years—and by the way, some of those lives on the line? They’re ours and all the people we care about. We don’t get to hide away in the safety of our castles—”
“I’m sure you’ll agree that what happened to Councillor Kenric proves we are anything but safe,” Bronte cut in.
Silence followed, and Sophie had to steal a glance at Oralie, feeling her heart twist when she watched Oralie’s eyes turn glassy. Clearly all the months since Kenric’s death hadn’t lessened Oralie’s grief over losing the person everyone had suspected she’d secretly been in love with—and who’d obviously been in love with her, too.
“Fine,” Dex conceded, “but you have to admit that you guys aren’t exactly on the front lines—and I’m not saying you should be. All I’m saying is: Don’t act like we don’t get how huge the stakes are just because we still know how to have a little fun sometimes.”
“Yeah, maybe we joke around because it makes all the tough stuff feel a little less terrifying,” Biana added. “It doesn’t mean we don’t know what we’re up against—we know that better than anybody.” She held out her arms, letting the light catch the lines of her scars. “And we’re still here—still fighting. So the only real difference is that now you guys are supposedly going to help us, instead of hindering us, like you have been.”
“Exactly.” Dex crossed his arms, eyeing each of the Councillors. “The way I see it, we’re just going to keep right on doing what we’ve been doing. And whether this new arrangement fails, or succeeds, that’s on you.”
“It’s always on us, Mr. Dizznee,” Emery said through a sigh that sounded more weary than frustrated. “Being Councillors is a tremendous responsibility—one you need to start grasping more fully if we’re going to work together. Which is why we brought you here today. We realize you’re eager to get to work, and assure you that this will only take a few more minutes. But it’s time for the five of you to understand the larger forces at play in our world, and how they shape the roles we’ve taken on.”
All twelve Councillors reached for their pins again, this time pressing the filigree inlaid into the bow and triggering a squeaky rattle in the walls.
Sophie’s ears rang as the honeycomb stones unfolded with extra panes of smooth, clear crystal that slowly rotated as the diamond stones eased apart, allowing the new pieces to snap together with the old and form a much wider globe. The floor stretched toward its new barriers, and within seconds the Paragon had doubled in size—maybe even tripled.
And the clear panes now served as windows, providing an impossible view of…
“I thought you said we weren’t going into space,” Sophie murmured, rubbing her eyes to make sure she was truly staring at the sphere of swirled blue, white, and green like she’d seen in hundreds and hundreds of pictures in human science classes.
She never thought she’d actually see the earth from up above—and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined.
And humbling.
And awe-inspiring.
And more than a little terrifying.
Everything she knew—everything she cared about—was so very far away. And she had no idea how they were supposed to get back, or how it was safe for them to be hovering so high up in this sparkly hamster ball contraption.
“Technically, we’re not in space,” Councillor Emery corrected. “We
’re at the very edge of our atmosphere, at the Point of Purity, where the force of the sunlight, starlight, and moonlight are all equal. As Councillors, we make this journey at least once a year, to remind ourselves where the true power in our world lies. It’s not in us—or in anyone in our species—but in nature itself. We are fragile, flawed creatures. But by some strange fluke of chance, we’re also conduits for these forces that surround us—and we’re the only species on our planet capable of such a feat. Which makes it our responsibility to use that power for good—to maintain order and peace for all creatures, and to ensure that everyone continues to prosper. That is why we lead. Not for praise or privilege or honor or glory. But because it’s our obligation. And all we hope for in exchange is a thriving, safe planet. Only when you truly believe that about us can you understand who we are, both as your Councillors and as people. The crowns and fanfare are simply a facade to look the part we’ve found ourselves having to play. They do not change the fact that what we really are is a group of twelve relatively normal individuals trying our best to be what people need. And that is why we must stay in power.”
“Our rule will never be perfect,” Bronte added quietly, “but at least we serve for the right reasons—and we will always strive to do what’s best for our people. That’s why we wanted the five of you to stand with us here today, in the center of all that drives us, so we can offer you the new oath that we’ve created.”
Councillor Emery’s gaze shifted to Sophie, and when he spoke again, his tone held a new level of authority. “Everything we do—right or wrong, good or bad, success or failure—is to serve the various species who need our help on this planet. We won’t deny that we’ve made missteps, or that we’ve resisted change—but those days are now behind us. For too long we’ve clung to the old ways, relying on the tried and true because it had worked in the past. But it has failed us, again and again. So it’s time to move forward. Time to embrace new views and new wisdom. And we stand here now, ready to swear to you that from this moment on, you can be assured of three things: We will listen. We will learn. And we will adapt. All we ask in return is that you be ready and willing to do the same. If you put your faith in us, we will put that same faith in you. For the good of everyone.”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 15
