“Don’t underestimate us,” Lefty told her. “We have security beyond anything anyone could prepare for.”

“But perhaps it might be wise to add a few additional measures,” Oralie decided.

“Are you allowed to tell us when the summit is?” Sophie asked.

“No—but I suppose it would be wise for you to prepare. The summit is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. You’ll receive official notice a week prior.”

The goblins spent the rest of their trek discussing ways to reorganize their patrols. And soon enough, they’d reached the main courtyard.

“I expect a thorough update,” Sandor told Sophie after her blindfold had been removed, her belongings returned, and they’d regrouped outside the castle’s gates.

“I will,” she promised. “But let’s wait until we’re back at Havenfield. That way I can explain it to everyone at the same time.”

“I’ll update the Collective,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And perhaps we should regroup tomorrow to discuss the best course of action from here?”

“Please keep me in the loop,” Oralie told them. “And I’ll be sure to do the same. This is a time when working together is in all of our best interests.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Forkle said, offering a quick bow before raising his pathfinder to the sunlight and leaping away.

“Thank you again for arranging this meeting,” Sophie told Oralie.

Oralie gave her a weak smile. “I only hope it was worth it.”

Sophie made the same wish as she took Sandor’s hand and leaped them both back to Havenfield.

“So should we—”

“STOP!” Sandor snapped, pulling her behind him. He unsheathed his sword and spun around, sniffing the air. “Something’s wrong. Very wrong.”

Sophie had no idea what could have him so freaked out.

And then she saw it.

Streaks of red in one of the pastures. Splashes of it in another.

Fresh blood.

FIFTY-EIGHT

SANDOR COVERED SOPHIE’S mouth and hefted her over his shoulder to prevent her from running away.

But she had to find Grady and Edaline. What if they—

“You must stop struggling and do exactly as I say,” Sandor ordered, charging toward the grove where the gnomes lived. “I need to get you somewhere safe so I can search the grounds for your family. And I need you to be quiet, because I can’t tell what we’re dealing with.”

He kept his sword raised, moving so fast the scenery blurred. Sophie tried to keep calm, telling herself the blood belonged to one of the animals—until Sandor slowed and uttered a string of goblin curse words.

She strained to follow his gaze and found a bloody ogre sprawled across the grass.

Dead.

She screamed and twisted in Sandor’s arms.

He was no match for her adrenaline-fueled panic, and she took off into the pastures shouting her parents’ names as red rimmed her vision while she ran. Her thudding heart pounded almost as hard as the rage pulsing inside her, straining against the tangled threads she’d knotted around it. She pressed her hands against her ribs, willing the emotions to hold steady. She needed to save them for whatever was coming.

She passed another dead ogre in the next clearing. Then two more.

The next body she found was a goblin with long curly hair.

Grady’s bodyguard.

Sophie’s voice turned into a ragged wail as she collapsed to her knees, unable to get back up—until someone grabbed her shoulder and instincts took over.

Her knotted emotions ripped free, and she shoved the darkness out of her in sickening waves, pummeling her attacker over and over. She could’ve raged forever, but strained, squeaky words brought her out of the frenzy.

When her vision cleared, she found Sandor collapsed on his side, teeth gritted, his body shaking from her inflicting.

“It’s okay,” a soft voice said behind her. “The ogres are gone.”

Sophie spun around and found Flori standing with a sack of Panakes blossoms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “They told me to wait for you to make sure you didn’t panic. But I thought I’d have time to gather more medicine.”

Sophie couldn’t get her brain to form words as Flori moved to Sandor’s side, placing a blossom on his chest and humming a soothing melody while she mopped the sweat off his brow with the edges of her long hair.

Sandor’s features relaxed as Flori worked, the pain fading from his eyes.

“Where are they?” Sophie managed to whisper.

Flori knew who she meant. “They’re safe. I’ll bring you to see them as soon as Sandor’s ready.”

She said other things, but Sophie’s brain was on never-ending repeat.

Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Seconds crawled by—or maybe it was minutes. Eventually Sandor raised his shaky head.

“At least I know you can protect yourself,” he told Sophie, offering a weak smile.

Sophie struggled to apologize, but Sandor waved the words away. “My only concern is your safety,” he promised, his watery eyes focused on something in the distance.

Sophie didn’t have to turn to know he was looking at Brielle’s broken body.

“Come on,” Flori said, taking Sophie’s hand. “I’ll bring you to the others.”

She sang an entrance into the ground, and Sandor and Sophie followed her into the earth. The tunnel was damp and dark and pleasantly warm as Flori tangled their feet in the roots.

“Brace yourselves,” she warned, shifting the cadence of her melody.

The roots obeyed her command, carrying them faster, faster, faster—far away. Into the darkness. Flori filled their journey with soothing songs, trying to keep Sophie calm and steady. But the icy terror didn’t thaw until they emerged in a small hollow surrounded by towering red-barked trees.

Grady and Edaline were there—dirty and bloody, but strong enough to throw their arms around Sophie as she crashed into them, holding on with all the strength she had left.

The sobs hit then, wringing out the rest of the fear clouding her mind and unleashing a tidal wave of questions: “What happened? Are you hurt? Has someone called Elwin? Where are we? How did you get away? What’s going on? WHY WERE THERE OGRES?”

“We’re going to be fine,” Grady promised as she reached up to wipe a scratch on his cheek. “Edaline and I were very lucky.”