“Another clever way of distracting us from the actual issues at hand,” Councillor Emery said. “At this rate, the summit will stretch on indefinitely.”

“We can’t have that,” Fintan told him. “I have a timeline to stick to.”

“A timeline for what?” Queen Hylda asked.

“The realization of my vision.”

Laughter shattered the silence, mixed with slow, mocking applause. Sophie was surprised to realize it was coming from King Dimitar as he stood to address the table.

“I must say, that was a far more impassioned performance than he gave me when he first mentioned his vision—which at the time, he was calling his Lodestar Initiative.”

“Yes, I had to streamline things after you failed so spectacularly,” Fintan informed him.

“I suppose I did.” King Dimitar turned to the representative of the gnomes. “We all know I let myself be coerced into unleashing the plague. Call it cruel if you like, but I was assured it would be in the best interests of everyone in the long run. I have since come to realize that the Neverseen’s promises are no more useful than the Council’s blatant refusal to acknowledge anyone’s concerns. Don’t make my mistake and be fooled by his pretty lies. He’ll offer the sun and the moon—so long as you do his bidding. In the end, you’ll have nothing to show except grief and ruin. And the same applies to the things you’ll hear from all of the elves at this table. Any of these new elvin orders only benefit themselves. Why else would they be focusing their talents and skills on deadly actions and altering their children to make them into weapons?”

“I’m not a weapon!” Sophie snapped when he shot her a glare.

“I don’t know what you are, Miss Foster. But I no longer care. You and your friends destroyed half my city and received full pardons instead of punishment. You invaded my mind—twice—and suffered no lasting consequences. Isn’t your very existence a violation of the most fundamental elvin laws? And yet here you are, in top-level treaty negotiations, with an equal seat among the leaders of entire worlds. I don’t fear the Council—I fear what they’ll let you grow to become. And more than that, I fear what lengths he’ll go to”—he pointed to Fintan—“in order to stop you. And I want no part of it.”

“So what are you saying?” Councillor Emery asked him.

“I’m saying I’ve looked long and hard for the so-called benefits I’ve gained from the leadership of the elves. And I can’t find any. But I’m also not naïve enough to believe I can stand against you—nor will I align myself any longer with self-serving rebellions. I’ve spent weeks watching my people suffer the consequences of the trust I put in lunatics. I won’t let them suffer any further. All I want—all I came to this summit to achieve—is a treaty that allows my people to remain separate. Leave us our lands and let us be, and I guarantee you’ll never see or hear from us again. Draft a treaty that specifies that and I’ll sign in a heartbeat.”

The discussion that followed seemed even more circular than the table, and after a dozen times around, King Dimitar laughed. “I offer to disappear—and essentially give you everything you want in the process—and still you argue and hesitate?”

“I think,” Councillor Emery said carefully, “that things are moving quite quickly in a rather unexpected direction. So I propose we take a brief recess to allow a moment to process.”

Righty and Bunhead rushed Sophie and Edaline back to their locked rooms, and Mr. Forkle convinced the goblins to let him tag along.

“I don’t understand what’s happening in there,” Edaline said, collapsing onto a settee in their sitting room.

Mr. Forkle took one of the armchairs. “I think . . . Dimitar spent much of his life believing ogres were actually the superior species, and planning to someday use the plague to take power. It’s why he fell for Fintan’s lies—and now that he’s been properly humbled, he’s trying to cut his losses and protect his people. Which has nothing to do with you, Miss Foster. Everything you brought upon Ravagog was provoked and necessary.”

“I know,” Sophie mumbled.

But it still didn’t feel good being called a monster—especially by one of the creepiest people she’d ever met.

Then again, the Dimitar speaking in the Circle wasn’t the bloodthirsty beast she’d come to expect. He was articulate. Logical. Clearly concerned for his people. Much more like the king Lady Cadence had described. And the thought that Sophie had played any role in convincing him the best course of action was total isolation made her glad she hadn’t eaten any breakfast.

“Did either of you notice how many of the leaders nodded along when Fintan went into his tangent about humans?” Edaline asked quietly.

“Everyone but King Dimitar,” Mr. Forkle said. “And I suspect that’s simply a refusal to agree with Fintan. Humans truly are quite the conundrum—creatures we’re forbidden to help, with weapons powerful enough to destroy the whole planet.”

“But what’s the solution to that?” Sophie asked.

“Ours is a work in progress,” Mr. Forkle admitted.

“And Sophie plays a part in it?” Edaline pressed.

“That will be up to her. She’s running her own life now. Has been for quite some time.”

“Unless Fintan pulls off his ‘vision,’ ” Sophie mumbled, her nerves knotting up just thinking about it.

This is what they want.

Had Lady Gisela meant those words for this potential prison break—assuming they were right about that threat? Or for some much grander, much darker scheme?

“Perhaps you should use these moments to check on Mr. Sencen,” Mr. Forkle suggested. “Rather than worrying yourself sick with unanswerable questions.”

He made a good point—though Sophie’s heart seemed to lodge in her throat as she transmitted her call with Keefe’s name.

If he didn’t answer . . .

’Bout time you reached out, Foster.

Tears burned Sophie’s eyes and she had to blink them back. Edaline pulled her into a hug to keep her from wobbling.

You’re safe? she asked.

I’m better than safe. I’m free! And FREEZING. I had to ditch all my cloaks—and this cave is not blocking the wind like it’s supposed to. I mean, it’s an ocean cave—it has one job to do!