Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 18

18

DIEM

was almost to the palace doors when I saw my mother running towardI me. “You’re back,” she cried. “You’re safe. You—you . . .”

She barreled into me, wrapping me up in her arms. For a moment, I was a little girl in the refuge of a mother’s embrace, certain that she would save me from whatever monsters lurked in the dark.

The comfort was fleeting. The moment her body hit mine, she went stiff, and so did I.

She held me at arm’s length and scowled down at my shadowy cloak as if she could see what lay beneath. “Diem, you’re far too thin.”

I laughed despite myself, though it came out harsh and angry. “I guess I

missed the island’s buffet.”

She frowned. “Couldn’t you hunt?”

“Hard to do without a knife.”

“What about fish? And there were crabs beneath the piers—”

“I didn’t know how close I could get to the water without the spell killing me. Wasn’t worth the risk to test it.”

She blinked. “What about plants?”

“Not many in season in winter.”

“There was plenty of waterweed. It would have worked as a last resort.”

“Most days, it was my only resort.”

Her eyes left my body and honed their scrutiny on my face. With every feature she took in, her frown curved deeper.

I backed out of her grasp. On the island, the knowledge that my mother had once been trapped there had been a source of comfort. It had made me feel closer to her to share that unlikely path.

Now, I was faced with the blunt reality that our experiences hadn’t been that similar after all. She’d gone in stocked with weapons and supplies.

She’d had shelter, warmth, the ripe summer months, access to the sea, even

another person to keep her company.

I’d had . . . me.

The loneliness that haunted me on Coeurîle suddenly felt like it had followed me home.

“You’re here now,” she said gently. “We’ll get you some food. You’ll be

back to normal in no time.”

Normal.

I laughed again.

“You found her,” Luther said, jogging to join us.

My mother beamed. “Luther, thank the Undying Fire, she’s finally home.”

He glanced between us, eyes lingering on me. “Everything alright?”

“The Ignios King told us he killed you,” my mother cut in. “That lying bastard.”

“He probably thought it was true,” I admitted. “He stabbed me in the heart. I’m still not sure how I survived it.”

Both of their eyes dropped to my chest, narrowing with curiosity. I shrank at the attention, feeling suddenly exposed.

My mother’s focus abruptly shifted to Luther. “What happened with Ophiucae?”

They launched into conversation, Luther recounting what happened, my mother grilling him for every detail. They spoke so freely, trading words with an ease entirely lacking the cold distrust they’d shared last time we’d been together. There was an undercurrent of hierarchy, with my mother curiously holding the upper hand, but they were comfortable.

Not like friends. More like family.

Luther’s hand found the small of my back as he talked. I wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch, but my mother’s shrewd, all-seeing eyes had left me rattled. I wrapped my hands around myself and pulled away.

Luther looked down at me, frowning.

My mother glanced over my shoulder. “Why are the townsfolk here?”

“The Crowns imprisoned them during our meeting,” Luther said crossly.

Our meeting?

She sighed. “I better speak with them now before they all go join Ophiucae out of spite. Would you get my daughter some food?” She started to walk away. “Something hearty.” She called back over her shoulder. “No chocolate!”

Luther turned to me, and I to him. The foot of distance between us felt

as awkward as the silence.

“Would you like some food?” he asked.

I shook my head. I was hungry, but I’d been hungry for weeks. It had long ago lost its urgency.

He smirked. “Would you like some chocolate?”

“Maybe later.”

He scoured my face, but unlike my mother, I had the sense he was looking for the changes that weren’t so visible on the surface.

I gripped myself tighter. “Luther . . . where were you?”

The question came out too much like an accusation. Luther’s features twitched with the faintest flinch.

“I took your brother to the Guardians in Montios. I thought you’d want him to be with your mother.” He paused, still searching my face. “I decided to stay there, too. I didn’t want to leave them, with Ophiucae so nearby.”

“The Guardians let you in?”

“Your mother told them she’d initiated me into the Lumnos cell. She claimed I’d been working for her in secret for years.”

It wasn’t that far off from the truth, but it shocked me. When I’d asked her to speak in his favor to the prisoners in Fortos, she could barely manage a word. Now she was lying on his behalf?

“At least she’s using her deception for something good,” I said, a little bitterly.

He hesitated. “Auralie knows she’s made mistakes. She’s trying to make up for them.”

I stared at him. He was defending her? What in the glaciers of hell had happened while I was gone?

“We moved the Montios Guardians to Arboros, and Auralie put out a call to all rebels to join us,” he said. “We were certain the Crowns were going to realize they needed you and let you go. I wanted to have an army ready for you when they did.”

“And the Guardians were willing to be that army?”

Again, he hesitated. He looked north, to a large campsite near the edge of the royal grounds. The mass of tents and rising smoke from the campfires took me right back to my days as the rebels’ hostage.

First, their prisoner. Now, their leader?

“For the moment, their loyalty is with Auralie. She told them your cause is worth joining.” His gaze returned to me, bright with hope. “Once they get to know you, Diem, once they see who you are . . .”

He closed the distance between us, his broad hands curving beneath my jaw. His palms were rougher than I remembered, covered with the callouses of labor, not the leisure of a Prince.

The feel of his skin on mine was ecstasy. The mating bond purred with a delicious sense of rightness, the mark on my chest burning hot beneath my cloak. Every nerve ending sparked with need for his touch, his kiss, his body, his love—and above all else, a frenzied desire to see a mating mark on his skin.

His forehead pressed against mine. The warmth of his breath on my lips had my knees ready to fold. Gods, this was something more than lust. More even than love. The mating magic had placed a vital piece of me inside him, so that only with him could I ever feel whole.

This was exactly what had always made me fear commitment. I used to look at people like this and mock them, even pity them. I’d wondered: If I give my heart away, I’ll lose who I am forever. Surely I’ll live to regret it.

But I hadn’t lost myself at all. I’d found exactly where I was meant to be. And with his hands on my face and his lips a breath from mine, I felt more me than I had in weeks.

“I thought of you every second,” he whispered. “When I slept, I dreamed of you. When I woke, I saw your face in the clouds. There was not a single moment that I was not thinking of the day I could hold you again.”

My hands rose to his chest, fisting in his tunic. I searched in vain for words to do justice to the agony of how much I’d missed him.

“I thought of every possible way I could get to you,” he said. “I would have gone realm to realm and slaughtered every Crown myself, but I feared that might seal you there forever. And your family . . . if I left them, and something happened—”

“I’m glad you stayed with them,” I managed to get out. “They’re safe.

And you’re safe.” My hands slid to his neck. His throat rumbled as my thumb grazed the line of his scar. “That means everything to me.”

Our bodies pressed closer, our hammering heartbeats thumping in time.

“I tried to see you.” His lips brushed mine with his smile. “I knew you’d scold me for it, but I didn’t think I’d survive one more day without you, so I

came to the island.”

“I know. I saw you.”

He went still. “You did?”

I nodded. “I was hiding in the grass.”

“Why didn’t you come out?”

Because I looked weak and dirty and pathetic, and if I never made it out alive, I didn’t want you to remember me that way.

Because one word, and I would have run to you, and I wouldn’t have cared if it killed me.

Because I lost my mind on that island, and I’m afraid I’ll never get it back.

The sounds of footsteps and chattering arose behind me, and a distinct, beloved voice: “D, is that you?”

I swiveled around to see my brother standing on the palace steps with a group of young Corbois—including, to my great relief, Eleanor and Lily.

“Diem!” the women shrieked in unison, smiles bursting across their faces. The three of them came running toward me.

My body seized up. The thought of them hugging me, prodding me, seeing what I’d become . . .

Luther stepped back, but I found myself clinging against him, tucking my shoulder behind his like a human shield. He glanced down at me, brows low.

My brother reached us first, grinning and opening his arms to wrap me in a hug. Luther edged further in front of me, and Teller lurched to a stop.

Luther gave a slight shake of his head. Teller’s smile disappeared.

Guilt and embarrassment gnawed away at me. I forced a lopsided smile to ease the alarm growing on my brother’s face. “How much trouble did you get into while I was gone?”

“You’re the troublemaker in the family,” he said. “I’m the obedient one, remember? Always do what I’m told.” There was a bite to his voice that was wholly unlike my sweet, easygoing brother. His eyes rose above my head. “Nice Crown.”

Mine dropped to his chin. “Nice, uh . . .” My head cocked. “ . . . would we call that a beard? Maybe a goatee in training. A mustache with a dream .

. .”

His cheeks flushed, but his grin returned in earnest. “I see you didn’t lose your sense of humor.”

My smile strained. I felt like I had. This was more like playing a part— being the old Diem I knew they wanted to see.

“It’s so good to see you,” Eleanor gushed, her tight curls bouncing on her shoulders. She moved in to embrace me, and Luther raised a hand to keep her back. Her rosy lips popped open. “Oh, um—I’m sorry, I . . .” She bit her lip. “We all missed you so much.”

“Your Crown looks different,” Lily said, gazing at it with wonder.

“There’s more peaks . . .”

“Nine,” Teller offered.

Her brows slammed downward. “I can count.”

Teller shoved his hands in his pockets, staring unhappily into the distance. Their reunion had clearly not gone well.

“Did Remis do anything I should know about?” I asked.

Lily shook her head emphatically. “Father did everything you asked. He was on his very best behavior!”

Eleanor’s pursed lips said she didn’t entirely agree, but she didn’t deny it, either. “Everything stayed the same until the Crowns arrived. That’s when the problems started.”

My mood darkened. “They won’t be a problem anymore.”

“It’s true, then?” Lily asked. “You’re the new Queen of everything?”

“Queen of Emarion,” Luther said. He touched a hand to his chest.

“Long may she reign.”

Lily dropped into a curtsey. Eleanor laughed at Lily’s overzealous gesture, but when I said nothing to stop it, her smile disappeared and she quickly bowed her head.

I looked at Teller. “You were with Mother the whole time?”

His flat expression twitched with some reaction he was trying to keep hidden. “I was.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you reunited.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There it was again—that sharpness, so unlike him.

My eyes raked over him. His body had also undergone changes in the weeks we’d been apart. He was more muscular now, with a broader back and hard-set shoulders. Even the lines of his face seemed more finely

honed. Though I’d teased him for it, the copper hair that covered his jaw erased any trace of boyish youth. This was not the baby brother I’d left behind.

“Look at this,” Taran boomed. “The whole family, together again.” He strode toward us, Alixe walking beside him and Zalaric clamped protectively—and somewhat unwillingly, it appeared—to his hip.

“The Crowns—the former Crowns,” Alixe corrected herself, “would like to speak with you.” She gave a wry smile. “I think they’ve changed their minds about taking your offer.”

“Wonderful,” Eleanor exclaimed. “If the Crowns acknowledge you as their Queen, the Twenty Houses will have do the same.”

“And if they don’t, we’ll call in the Embers,” Taran said, elbowing her

with a grin.

“Who are the Embers?” I asked.

Eleanor’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “Nothing yet, really. Something I’ve been working on while you were gone.”

“Ellie here’s been starting a revolution,” Taran said. “She recruited Descended in every House.”

“Mostly the younger ones, around our age,” she cut in. “Descended who aren’t in the ruling families of their Houses. They see how unfair things are and want them to change.”

Taran’s chest expanded proudly. “The name was my idea. Eleanor’s Embers . . . get it?” His grin turned wicked. “Because we’re gonna burn this place down.”

“They aren’t mine, Taran. The Embers belong to Diem.” Eleanor gave me a bashful smile. “They don’t have much influence, but they’re willing to support you as Queen.”

Alixe frowned. “I didn’t know you were working on this.”

Eleanor tensed. “Oh—well, you see . . . we, um . . .”

“We didn’t know whose side you were on,” Taran grumbled, his good humor fading away. “You were busy staying glued to Remis.”

“That’s what Her Majesty ordered,” Alixe shot back. “I had to keep a close eye on him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything in secret to target her or the mortals.”

Zalaric rolled his eyes at Taran. “I told you she was still with us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taran said. “Right, as usual.”

Zalaric’s chin lifted haughtily, and Taran’s smile came roaring back. He snatched Zalaric’s hand, and Zalaric threw him a look that was surely meant to appear annoyed, but all I saw was fondness—perhaps even something

more.

Luther’s body leaned closer to mine.

“I’ve been volunteering at the healers’ center in Mortal City,” Lily said, bouncing on her toes. “Maura loaned me some books about herbs and old mortal remedies. She says I can start as an apprentice once I finish school

this spring.”

“And Father allowed it?” Luther asked.

“Well, no, not exactly. He’s been so busy, he hasn’t noticed.” Her face fell. “You disapprove?”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Not at all. I couldn’t be prouder of you, Lily. And if Father does try to interfere, I’ll handle it.”

Her eyes turned misty at her brother’s praise. She looked at me, desperate hope for my approval written all over her face, and I forced the warmest smile I could muster.

“You’re going to make an excellent healer,” I said, and I meant it.

The others leapt into an animated conversation about everything else we’d missed during our absence. I was pleasantly surprised to hear House Hanoverre had made no move against Zalaric, though they’d refused to acknowledge him, either. Their elderly matriarch, Marthe, had ordered all Hanoverres, and Hanoverre allies, to treat him as invisible. As a result, though he’d made a fair share of connections in secret, his social life had struggled to grow beyond the palace walls, a fact Taran didn’t seem to mind.

The talk turned to gossip of cousins whose names I didn’t remember.

Eleanor burst into laughter at some comment of Lily’s, and as she threw her head back, the light from the palace’s twinkling facade caught on a streak of blue in her tight curls. She dyed it, I realized. I hadn’t noticed it before in the early evening dusk. Lily had changed her hair, too, shortening it to her shoulders.

The knowledge coiled around my chest, squeezing my heart to a stop.

While I’d been trapped on an island, my friends had been toying with their hairstyles, learning a trade, and falling in love. I’d been in a miserable, endless torture, and they’d been . . . happy.

And though I could never begrudge them their joy, the monstrous loneliness inside me grew a little larger.

Teller and Luther seemed to feel it, too. They watched the merriment like it was happening in a language they barely spoke, forcing smiles when it felt expected to do so, offering only enough of a response to be polite.

I struggled to do the same, but the more they chatted and laughed, the deeper I sank back into the island’s grip. All these weeks, I’d prayed, pleaded, hoped, begged, screamed, wept for the moment I was surrounded again by the people I loved.

My dream had come true, and the only thing I felt was alone.

And yet I was very much not alone. Everywhere I turned, eyes were on me. The eyes of my friends, my brother, faces peering from palace windows, the Guardians in their distant camp, the fallen Crowns, the Descended soldiers mingling throughout the grounds. All of them watching me, studying me, wondering where I’d been and what I might do next.

The edges of my vision turned fuzzy. I flexed my hands as my fingers began to go numb. It took all my focus to keep dragging air into my lungs and pushing it out, over and over in a shaky loop.

Suddenly, I was walking.

No—being pushed.

Luther’s hand pressed into the curve of my back. He was leading me away from the group and across the palace grounds toward Sorae.

“Wh-what happened?” I stammered, struggling to get words out as my breathing turned rapid.

“I told them Sorae was injured and you needed to heal her,” Luther answered calmly.

“I healed her wounds on the flight here.”

“I know.”

Sorae’s wings unfurled to their fullest width. Luther kept me close as he ducked beneath the soft curtain of her feathers. His shadows swirled in the air to drown out the world until there was nothing but us in the darkness.

“One word,” he whispered, curling a hand around the back of my neck.

“One word and we’ll leave. I’ll take you somewhere quiet until you’re ready. Alixe can handle things here. Sorae will come get us if we’re needed.”

I could have sobbed at how perfectly he understood. He’d never judged me for my urge to run when things got hard. He’d promised to run with me

so I never had to do it alone.

My loyal, selfless Prince.

My mate.

“Luther,” I whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you . . .”

“Anything, my heart.” His eyes jumped between mine, searching, offering. “Whatever you need.”

The warm comfort of his hand on my skin slowed my racing heart, and the sounds beyond the shadows came creeping back in. Wails of injured soldiers, the hoofbeats of arriving horses, crackling from still-burning dragonfyre.

As badly as I needed the joy that closing the bond would bring, this was not the time or place. Luther deserved to be more than a quick box to check before the demands of my Crown pulled me away.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just needed a moment.” I forced myself out of his reach, knowing my resolve would shatter with one more second of his touch. The moment I broke away, a sick feeling took root in my gut. It felt confusingly foreign, like it was happening at a distance.

Luther’s hands hung in the air for a moment before slowly sinking to his sides. “Diem—”

“I can’t leave,” I rushed out. “There’s too much here I need to do. But . . .” I swallowed. “Perhaps, later tonight . . . we could go somewhere private.”

I swallowed again. “To talk.”

He gave me a long once-over, his expression unreadable. “Of course.”

He dissolved his shadows, and Sorae cast us a curious glance. She alone knew the secret I guarded—I’d felt her ecstatic reaction to it the moment I’d opened my mind to hers. I ran a hand along her fur to avoid Luther’s probing stare. “I should speak with the Crowns.”

He glowered. “You could toss them in the dungeon for the night. Give them a taste of their own treatment, and let them beg for mercy in the morning.”

Gods, the idea was tempting. Tempting enough that I didn’t say no.

I started back toward the palace, gently pushing aside Sorae’s feathered wing. I paused and looked back at Luther. This time, I made no effort to

hide the raw, broken mess I’d become.

“Stay with me?” I asked softly.

“Always, my Queen.”

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