Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 23

23

DIEM

hat we caused was much more than a scene.W Mortals loved gossip to distract them from their lives of hardship, and though we wrapped ourselves in cloaks and did our best to go unnoticed, within minutes half the town knew that we’d arrived.

By the time we made it to the central square, a crowd had begun to gather around us. Between my mother’s disappearance and return as head of the Guardians, my long absence, the prior day’s attack, and my new nine- peaked Crown, there were few in Mortal City who didn’t have strong words to share with at least one of us, and the rest were keen to watch.

Our “quick” excursion lasted most of the day. My mother checked in on her allies, and I heard the mortals’ complaints. I was surprised, but relieved, to find that Remis had kept his promise to protect them, at least until the Crowns had arrived. The last few days had been a nightmare, with husbands ripped from wives, neighbors gone missing, children left abandoned and wondering if their parents would ever return. Soldiers had knocked down doors and ransacked houses. Many mortals had resisted—not all had survived the fight.

As usual, Luther’s suspicions had been right. During my last trip here, the mortals had pledged me their loyalty, and in their eyes, I’d betrayed that trust by disappearing while the Crowns ransacked the town. It took my mother speaking up on my behalf to keep the mob’s frustrations from turning to something more vicious.

Luther stayed close by my side through it all, his vigilant eyes forever on the hunt for a threat, pressing against me anytime someone came within arm’s reach. I should have told him to stand down—I needed to prove I

wasn’t a danger to the mortals, not the other way around—but every time our hands brushed, it sent a burst of strength through me that made me start to believe I could do this after all.

Eventually, the crowds thinned, allowing us some freedom to wander.

Despite the tension between us, I couldn’t resist showing Luther the town I’d called home. Between his work saving the half-mortal children and the close eye he kept on the Guardians, he was already more familiar with Mortal City than most Descended. It was pure chance our paths never crossed before we met—he mostly came at night, when it was easier to cloak himself in shadows, while I spent most evenings in the safety of my family’s cottage on the marsh.

What he hadn’t seen were the places only a resident could know, like the market stall that sold my favorite sweets, the belltower with the prettiest view of the village, and the run-down tavern that was infamous for pouring the best ale if the barmaids liked you and watered-down swill if they didn’t.

Luther’s brooding veneer cracked with a smile when I told him I’d been permanently condemned to the latter because of an unfortunate incident with a runaway wild hog—another misadventure with Henri, I thought with a pang of nostalgia.

The night before the Challenging, I’d taken Taran and Alixe on a similar walk. That had been a tour of the city I hoped they might help save. This was a tour of something that couldn’t be saved, only remembered.

This was a tour of me.

The most me I could give him, for now.

I found myself making excuses to touch him—pretending to stumble and grabbing his forearm for balance, taking unexpected turns so I could tug him along. Emboldened, he did the same, keeping his hand on the low curve of my back. When an old patient offered us a slice of wild berry tartlet, I reached to wipe a smudge of red from his lips. My thumb lingered, his eyes locked with mine, and my heart filled with a love so fierce, it left me aching and breathless and utterly miserable.

We didn’t touch much more after that.

My mother stepped away to speak with a reclusive contact from her past as an army spy, leaving me to sit with Luther in uncomfortable silence, when the sound of a gryvern drew us both to our feet. Unable to land in the narrow streets, Sorae touched down on the outskirts of town, with Alixe on her back.

“Stay here,” I told Luther, then ran to meet them. “Was there another attack?”

Alixe saluted. “You might call it that. The Twenty Houses sent a delegation to the palace. They’ve demanded to speak with the former Crowns. They’re offering to recognize them as the ‘rightful’ Crowns if they stand against you.”

“A fucking coup,” I muttered. “That didn’t take long.”

“They’re fools to challenge you. Still . . . people do foolish things to keep their power.”

“I need to return,” I called out to Luther. “Wait for my mother, then get her back to camp.” I swung onto Sorae’s back behind Alixe. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Luther yelled in protest, running toward us. Alixe hesitated— and so, to my shock, did my gryvern.

“Go,” I barked, and this time, Sorae obeyed, launching into flight.

Alixe frowned as she watched Luther fade, then looked back at me.

“There’s something else. The former Ignios King passed away last night.”

An empty numbness met the news. Saving him would have only cost me a drop of blood and an ounce of compassion. In my anger, I’d been willing to offer neither.

“His brother is demanding your arrest for murder,” she went on. “He claims that, as his brother’s Regent, he should be recognized as the ruler of Ignios, not you.”

“I’m guessing the Twenty Houses have given him their support?”

She nodded. “I imagine they’ve sent messenger hawks to the Regents of your other realms to offer them the same.”

“Eleanor is the Regent of my realms,” I grumbled. “All of them. Not just Lumnos.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty . . . is that wise?”

My brows lifted. “You doubt Eleanor?”

“Eleanor has great promise as a leader, and I admire what she’s done in your absence. She is a wise choice as Regent of Lumnos, but as for the other realms . . . I cannot imagine how someone who has lived all her life in Lumnos can lead people she knows nothing about.”

“Yet that’s exactly what I’ve been called to do,” I reminded her, pointing to my Crown.

Alixe’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. I agree, the realms need leaders who understand them.

Nevertheless, I am Queen, and I need Regents I can trust. All my allies are from Lumnos.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to make more allies.”

ALIXE’S WORDS stayed in my thoughts as I stormed through the palace into a meeting room that was nothing short of bedlam. The chamber was packed with shouting Descended, many I recognized from the House Receptions in my early days as Queen. A long table was set with thrones, with Eleanor, Taran, and Zalaric crowded near a chair carved with the moon-and-sun sigil of Lumnos. On the other side, Remis looked uncharacteristically ruffled as he argued with a seething Marthe Hanoverre and a red-faced Evrim Benette.

At the thrones marked for Sophos and Meros, Doriel and Obaneryn stood, rather than sat, hands clasped behind their backs as their eyes bounced between each other and the chaos around them.

The Ignios Regent was firmly seated in his. His gaze slid to me and narrowed. “Murderer.”

The room fell to a hush as a hundred pairs of eyes turned my way.

“My brother is dead because of you,” he snarled.

I walked toward him, forcing the crowd to part. “Your brother is dead because he attacked a Queen much smarter than he was. I’m not Yrselle, but I can make sure you join him, if you intend to do the same.”

“Is what he claims true?” a voice called from the crowd. “Can your

blood cure godstone?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Gasps rippled through the room, along with scattered cries of “How?” and “Blessed Kindred!”

“Does that mean you’re immune to it?” someone yelled out.

In truth, I had no idea. After being stabbed on the island, I’d certainly felt like death was near. Somehow I’d survived—if it happened again, I

might not be so lucky.

But they didn’t need to know that.

“Yes,” I said haughtily. “I’m immune to godstone.”

More shocked whispers arose. Not far from Marthe Hanoverre, snickering pulled my attention to her grandchildren—the two Descended I hated most.

“I think she’s lying,” Iléana said to Jean behind her hand, speaking loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Someone should put it to the test,” the Ignios Regent sneered.

I stopped beside the Ignios throne and flashed him my sweetest smile.

“Let’s make a bet. You put a godstone blade through my chest, just like your brother did. If I survive it”—I set a hand on the chair and leaned in

close—“I get to do the same to you.”

His nostrils flared.

Glowing red spots sprouted along the carved wood beneath my hand, and the smell of burning cedar wafted through the room.

“What are you doing?” he sputtered. “Is that—” Tendrils of smoke began to curl around him. He leapt from the chair as the seat beneath him burst into flames. Face red with fury, he grabbed the scimitar at his hip. The woman I’d seen with him before jumped forward, reaching for her weapons —but her warning glare was set on him, not me.

I raised my other hand, and all nine of the thrones began to burn. The crowd stumbled back, stunned faces illuminated in orange from the bonfire’s glow.

“Those were nine hundred years old,” Remis snapped.

“Then let this be a lesson about what I’m willing to do to old, unnecessary things.”

Marthe Hanoverre gave a disgusted sniff. “How convenient that she reappeared at the precise moment this Ophiucae person attacked. It almost seems planned.”

“I returned to Lumnos as quickly as I could,” I sniped back. “Just in time to catch you in the midst of treason.”

A woman stepped forward who I recognized as the matriarch of one of the smaller Houses. She’d been more welcoming than most when I’d met her before. Today, she looked ready to put my head on a pike.

“My home went up in dragonfyre yesterday,” she said. “Where were you?”

Marthe—along with many others—murmured loudly in agreement.

“We spent all night collecting our dead,” she went on. “Why were you not there to help?” More murmurs, more nods. “Where were you today?

Lumnos City is in ruins. Many are dead. What more does it take to get the

attention of our Queen?”

“I was in Mortal City.”

Eating berry tarts and swooning over Luther.

“Was Mortal City attacked, as well?” Iléana asked, barely concealing her smile. “Did a gryvern burn their homes?”

Guilt sank its fangs in deep, worse for being caused by Luther’s conniving ex. “No,” I admitted. “But—the Crowns—some townsfolk were imprisoned. The people were upset—”

My stammering was drowned out by a thunderous roar of responses. I glanced around at the room I’d initially dismissed as selfish elites come to usurp my throne. Many had half-fallen updos and rumpled clothes stained with soot. A few had traces of blood crusted on their hands. It wasn’t jealousy or greed that smoldered in their sapphire eyes—it was betrayal and resentment.

The truth settled over me like a mildewed cloak. My choice today had been selfish. I hadn’t gone to Mortal City because they needed me. I went because I was sinking into misery, so I’d run to the one place that felt like home. Meanwhile, Lumnos City did need me, and I’d let my prejudice against them get in the way.

Marthe rapped her cane against the marble floor until the room fell quiet. “I warned you all before the Challenging. The girl is unfit to rule.”

“We’re at war,” Evrim Benette said. “We can’t count on her to protect us, so we must protect ourselves.”

“Say the word, Queenie,” Taran mumbled, appearing with Zalaric beside me. “I’ll roll Zal into a ball and knock ’em down like pins.”

I let out a sigh and looked at Marthe. “What are your demands?”

Her haunches wiggled like a cat about to pounce. “A council to govern the realm, led by the five largest Houses.”

“Five?” asked a man wearing the golden crest of House Ghislaine. “You said all Twenty Houses would get a say.”

“You will—through us.” Marthe gestured to Evrim, then Remis, then two others from the larger houses. “We’ll hear each House’s concerns and make choices for the good of us all.” She waved a knobby hand at Doriel and Obaneryn. “The true Crowns have agreed to recognize our authority.”

“We did nothing of the sort,” Doriel said quickly, shooting nervous glances my way. “We agreed to hear your offer and discuss it with your Qu

—the Queen.”

“What’s to discuss?” the Ignios Regent asked. “It’s a better choice than her. On behalf of Ignios, I give them my vote.”

“Your votes don’t matter,” Eleanor protested. “Diem decides for Ignios.

Sophos and Meros, too.” I stared in shock—and pride—at my normally shy friend. “And if House Corbois has a seat on any council, it’s hers to fill.”

Iléana’s lashes fluttered as she rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows she’s not a Corbois, Eleanor. I bet her real father is the man who attacked us. I heard him call her daughter.” Her head gave a smug, obnoxious tilt.

“Unless House Corbois intends to claim him, too.”

Jean threw a contemptuous glance at Zalaric, the half-mortal son he’d abandoned for dead. “They’ve already collected one worthless stray.”

Taran let out a snarl, hands clenching into fists.

“Down, boy,” Zalaric murmured. “He’s not worth the time it would take to clean his blood off my shoes.”

“I’ll buy you new shoes,” Taran gritted out. “The prettiest ones you want. Just let me kill him.”

I had half a mind to do the same myself, but I saw through the Hanoverres’ tricks. They wanted me to lose my temper and do something reckless. They might even sacrifice one of their own, if it meant convincing

the other Houses I was a danger.

“A fine idea, Marthe,” I said instead.

The competition for the most stunned face in the room was steep.

Eleanor gaped. “You agree?”

“Of course. The people of this realm deserve a voice in its governance, don’t you think? All its people.”

Her eyes flared as my words sank in. The corners of her mouth crept upward. “If it’s a council of the people, surely the mortals will demand

some seats.”

“Surely,” I agreed. “It’s only fair.”

Marthe scoffed. “What a vulgar suggestion. I never—”

“The Unhoused Descended, too,” I said.

“Absolutely not,” Marthe squawked. “Being Unhoused is a punishment.

We cannot reward them for—”

“If the Unhoused Descended get a seat, then my House gets a seat,” the

Ghislaine man cut in.

“Mine too,” another woman called out.

I shrugged. “Fine with me. All the Houses get a seat.”

Marthe banged her cane, screeching about my preposterous, unworkable plan, but her protests were lost in the room’s excited chatter about my offer and the implications it might have on the realm.

One voice did slice through the clamor—low and strong, its familiar

timbre pulsing hot through my blood.

“And what of the half-mortals?”

The crowd quieted as they turned toward the man in the doorway, his piercing blue-grey eyes pinned on me.

“Do we get a seat at the table?” Luther asked.

My heart stopped, though the galloping beat of his echoed over the

bond.

Did he just . . . ?

“Son,” Remis warned. “A word. In private.”

Luther ignored him and prowled toward me. “Our voices were silenced by the progeny laws. Those of us who managed to survive were forced to hide, in Lumnos and abroad.” He stopped in front of me, holding me captive in his stare. “We will fight for this realm. We’ll lay down our lives to protect it. No time or space will ever change that.” He lifted a hand to the sigil of the Lumnos Crown stitched across his heart. “This is our home. Our

love for it is eternal.”

My throat burned with emotion.

His chin lowered. “Will our home forsake us?”

“Never,” I whispered.

“Luther, what are you talking about?” Iléana’s voice was shrill, almost

panicked. “Why do you keep saying we?”

“Son,” Remis growled again. “Do not—”

“Because my mother was a mortal.” Luther turned to face the crowd.

“My father killed her to hide the truth. Her name . . .” He faltered, and I slipped my hand in his. His fingers curled around mine as his shoulders rolled back. “Her name was Florille. I am her son, and I am half-mortal.”

The air was thick with silence.

Luther had been a stalwart of Lumnos high society, the respected Prince who embodied the rule of law as the King’s favored heir. My parentage had always been a source of gossip, but his was unassailable, absolute.

Even Alixe and Eleanor looked stunned, though Zalaric had suspected the truth. From the pride beaming on Taran’s face, apparently so had he.

“Half-mortals have no place on any council,” Marthe said. “They are forbidden.”

“Not anymore,” I said. “The people of Lumnos are free to love, marry, and have children with whoever they please.” My glare cut to Jean Hanoverre. “Those who interfere with any half-mortal’s return will answer to me.”

My proclamation was not well-received. The economy of Lumnos was built on the bedrock of sanctioned injustice. Upending it, even in this small fashion, put their entire way of life at risk. Nothing could be more dangerous than a privileged group losing their power.

As the outrage grew louder, Luther’s magic unfurled, shimmering in anticipation of an attack.

But I would not run from the fuse I’d lit.

I let go of his hand and stepped beyond his shield. “I am your Queen,” I shouted, “and this is my command.”

“This is blasphemy,” Evrim Benette roared.

“So you refuse to join the half-mortals on my council?” I asked.

“Of course I refuse. It’s an affront to the Kindred!”

“Very well. Evrim Benette declines his seat. Which Benette will take his place?”

Evrim nearly choked on his tongue. “Now wait a moment, I didn’t say—”

“I will,” three voices shouted behind him. House unity flowed thin when there was power in play.

I looked to Eleanor. “Regent, is there someone you suggest? Perhaps

someone with an ember of wisdom?”

Her face lit up at my coded words.

“Maybe Perthe Benette should do it,” Iléana said with cutting brightness. “He is the most loyal of her guards.” She made a theatrical show of looking around. “Perthe? Has anyone seen Perthe?” The knowing cruelty of her smile felt like a hand around my throat. “Perhaps Diem can tell us where he is.”

A smarter politician would have lied. A savvier one would have used Perthe’s death to turn the Lumnos Descended against Doriel and Obaneryn.

I was neither smart nor savvy. Just dreadfully, inconsolably sad.

More voices arose, but they came muffled to my ears, drowned out by the funeral bell of sorrow. Luther’s aura curled around me, a glowing tether

as a current of dark emotions threatened to carry me away.

“Norwick Benette would be a deserving choice, Your Majesty,” Eleanor said.

“The seat is his,” I choked out, my voice hoarse. “Does anyone else wish to withdraw?”

The room fell quiet enough to hear my own pulse pounding in my ears.

“We’ll meet in two weeks’ time. If any of you c —”

I barely registered the blur of shadow that cut my words short, nor the flash of frozen heat across my skin. By the time the glow faded from my flesh, I’d only just begun to understand.

Someone had attacked me.

Someone had attacked me.

In a room packed to the seams with guards, with several powerful Descended allies at my side, someone had been furious enough to risk it all and attempt to kill their Queen.

“Who was it?” Luther roared, shadows detonating around him. “Show yourself, you fucking coward.”

I raised a hand to stay his rage. I already knew who it was—my Umbros magic, newly strengthened by the absorbed attack, had been drawn to the thoughts of a guilty conscience: an elderly woman from a mid-ranked House, knowing her life was already near its end and fearing the future I would leave for her kin.

Our eyes met. Fear sparked in hers, but she raised her chin, ready to

face her fate.

I looked away.

“As I was saying . . . if anyone else is unwilling t—”

Another attack, followed by more gasps.

This one from a familiar foe—Jean Hanoverre—and one I was much less inclined to forgive.

Then another one came, and another. The walls flickered as light and shadow speared through the air and sank into my skin. When I made no effort to shield, more palms raised, and the assaults against me turned blinding. Nearly every Descended in the room took a shot at the Queen some envied, some despised, but none of them respected.

The absorbed magic fueled my drained reserves, yet I felt as empty as ever.

I let go of Luther and walked for the door. Though the mob parted to make way for me to leave, the onslaught of magic followed me all the way out.

With Perthe’s memory on my mind, I wished I could feel every blow.

OceanofPDF.com