Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 27

27

LUTHER

very force this side of the afterlife was conspiring to keep me from myE

Queen.

Including the woman herself.

She was avoiding me. That much was painfully clear. If she thought it would put me off her, she’d made a grave miscalculation. For a brief moment, she had let me see beyond her armor to the woman beneath—a woman who still desired me. A woman who needed me.

Something was keeping her at arm’s length. I had my suspicions what that something might be, none of which I let myself dwell on. I’d given her distance to honor her wishes, but now that she’d confessed what she really wanted, I was done with space. It was time to show my Queen that I was

ready to fight for her.

I just had to find her first.

After returning to the training field to find her gone, I’d gathered the belongings she left behind and set out to find her. I’d arrived too late to the palace library, though its damaged state and the darkness of her aura warned me what would come next. I ran to Sorae just in time to see Diem soar away on Tybold instead. Sorae was apoplectic, but she was bound by Diem’s order to stay, forcing us both to await her return.

Unfortunately, the rest of Lumnos did not share my one-track focus.

First came Zalaric, who’d received a hawk from the half-mortals he left behind in Umbros. Despite his promise that he’d been welcomed here, they refused to join him, too fearful they would be executed on their return.

Taran was convinced that one conversation with Diem would resolve it.

In truth, a visit was needed regardless. Umbros had been without a Crown for nearly two months, and nothing good happened in a vacuum of power, especially in a realm still nursing wounds from Ophiucae’s attack.

But how could I ask Diem to turn her focus half a continent away when I’d just urged her to trust her advisors to handle it? What good were we to her if we could not back up her trust with action?

So I told Zalaric to send another hawk and try again. I swore to do the same, to give my word as a fellow half-mortal that their exile from Lumnos was well and truly over. Zalaric, though visibly disappointed, had accepted.

Taran had not.

His words grew zealous, then heated, but when it came to protecting Diem, I was immovable. When it came to Zalaric’s happiness, so was Taran. Our argument turned hostile, and we very nearly came to blows. At Zalaric’s urging, Taran finally stomped away, leaving me torn between my own irritation and a nagging worry I’d done something I might come to regret.

The next hurdle in my path was Alixe. As my right hand for years, she was no stranger to weathering my temper. The way she astutely took note of my mood and got straight to the point—security logistics for tomorrow’s first meeting of the governing council, which she’d expertly prepared on her own—left me feeling guilty for the lingering tension between us since my return.

Then came Eleanor and her worries for the staff, who were being worked to the bone with the palace full of guests, all while dealing with both the emotional and practical consequences of losing so many peers in Ophiucae’s attack. By then, I could feel Diem’s aura dwindling, and my godhood was roaring at me to find and protect. I forced myself to swallow it down and talk through Eleanor’s proposal to give the staff time off to rest and hire additional workers at a lucrative wage.

Wise as her plan was, it would require the cooperation of my father, who kept a stranglehold on the coffers of House Corbois. Reluctantly, I

sought him out him next.

To my surprise, he put up no dispute.

He then brought up my uncle Garath and cousin Aemonn. Their names were barely out of his mouth before I walked away, raising a shield at my back to stop him from following. Taran’s father and brother had been

keeping their distance since Diem’s return, and that was how I preferred it.

If I never saw either one again, it wouldn’t be long enough.

Then came the nameless others. Distant cousins with inane complaints that staff were no longer baking their favorite pastry or making their beds just so. Residents from Lumnos City, demanding the Crown repair their ruined homes. Ignios nobles, who’d heard about Diem’s council and demanded a seat.

I clenched my teeth and heard every request, reminding myself it was all for her—anything for her—until I began to feel a draw to the west. I gave an abrupt excuse and made my way back outside.

The pull became irresistible at the sight of Diem landing on the palace lawn. Her meager aura and the wisps of darkness that had replaced her clothes confirmed my suspicion—she’d lost control again.

Her eyes, dull and empty, locked with mine. “You were wrong,” she called out, her voice unsettlingly cold. “No godstone.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Don’t lose hope.”

Something flickered over her face—something that had my instincts screaming.

I started toward her, then jumped back as Tybold snapped his jaws and flared his wings to block my path. Sorae shrieked and speared from her perch to slam down beside me. Diem gave them both an emotionless glance, then dismounted and began to walk away. When I moved to follow, Tybold swiped a talon that almost took off my head. Sorae’s wings curled protectively around me, trapping me in a feathery cage, and I was forced to wait it out as the two gryverns traded hisses and snarls. Tybold’s rumbles turned distant, and when Sorae let me go, I spied him brooding inside the forest, his golden eyes glaring from the shadows.

Diem, however, was gone.

I palmed the Meros compass in my pocket as I spied a blur of tawny skin and ice-white hair duck inside a tent.

I continued toward her. Finally, we could be alone. No spectators or distractions, no excuse for her to flee. The sword she’d left behind seemed to pulsate in my hand, its metal unusually warm. Some ancient knowledge written in my blood recognized the blade’s strange engraved design as the same language of the unintelligible whispers that filled my ears at its touch.

I felt a sudden urge to engulf it in white-hot light and let it melt to a useless lump, where it could never hurt anyone again. The feeling was so

visceral, I almost gave in—until my focus was stolen by someone calling

my sister’s name.

“Lily! Lily, please, just wait!”

On the other side of camp, Lily walked in a huff while Teller stumbled behind her, a stack of books piled awkwardly in his arms.

“We have nothing to discuss,” she called out.

“At least take the books,” he begged.

Lily spotted me and shifted course my way, prompting Teller to lurch to a stop. He shot me a desperate look. I shook my head, and he deflated, head hanging.

“Brother,” Lily said with a bad imitation of her usual brightness, “what perfect timing.”

“Lilian, why are you in the Guardians’ camp?”

She frowned at my disapproving tone. “I saw some of the mortal children sneezing and wiping their noses. I made them a honey tonic that Maura taught me and checked them for a fever. Then a woman stopped me to ask for a salve to treat a rash from a plant she brushed in the forest.” Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “Prickle vine, I think. Then another woman needed something to ease her cycle, so I went to the palace kitchens and got her an herbal brew. Oh, and some chocolate.” She cracked a smile. “Maura told me that Diem always treated women’s ailments with a drop of chocolate.”

“You know how to do all that, make the tonics and salves?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Oh, those are easy. I make them all the time at the center.”

“I thought you’ve only been training for a few months.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she shyly ducked her head. “Maura says I’m a fast learner.”

A rush of pride ran through me. Few could truly understand how monumental this was, not just for a Descended princess, but my sister specifically. Lilian Corbois, our father’s perfect, obedient porcelain doll.

She’d never dared to do anything that might disappoint him, aside from rejecting the betrothals he’d arranged. I strongly suspected my Queen had something to do with that. I suspected she had much to do with this, too.

For both, I could never repay her.

“Is Diem alright?” Lily asked. “She seems . . .” She glanced at Diem’s tent. “ . . . not herself.”

I hesitated. “Diem needs our support. She’s been through something

very difficult.”

“Of course!”

“And so has her brother.”

Lily scowled. “That’s not the same. I heard what happened to Diem. She was trapped on the island. That wasn’t her choice. What Teller did was.”

Her bottom lip wobbled. “He didn’t even say goodbye. He left me a note.”

My brotherly reflexes twitched with a very strong desire to toss Teller Bellator straight into the campfire for the pain he’d caused her. But, over the weeks we’d spent together, Teller had unexpectedly become like a sibling to me, too. He reminded me of the boy I’d been after my mother’s death, hurting deeply yet never allowing myself to let it show.

And I knew he loved my sister. I wasn’t pleased with how he’d shown it, but after how I treated Diem when I was dying of godstone, I had little high ground to cast blame.

“I suppose you noticed Perthe did not return with us,” I said.

Her head lowered. “I did. Is he . . . ?”

I nodded. “The Sophos Crown kidnapped Teller and used him to trap Diem on the island. Perthe and I tried to rescue them, but Perthe didn’t

make it.”

“How awful,” she whispered.

“It should have been me, Lily. Teller had to make a horrible choice and sacrifice Perthe to save my life. He and I had to watch Perthe die, knowing we were to blame. We both have to live with that forever.” Lily looked horrified, her lashes growing wet. “You have no duty to take him back out of pity. I only want you to know that he is paying a price for his choices.

Even if you cannot forgive him . . . be gentle, sister. He is hurting, too, and he could sorely use a friend.”

She turned quiet. Her gaze drifted back to the auburn-haired man sitting in a defeated slump by the campfire.

I tugged her into my side. “But if he hurts you again, say the word and I’ll feed him to Tybold.”

She let out a half-hearted laugh. “I’ll think about it.”

We embraced, and she slowly walked the path to the palace. At the edge of the camp, she paused and looked back toward the fire, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Finally, she reversed course and went to stand

in front of Teller. Though she said nothing, her chin indignantly high, she looked at the books and held out her hands.

Teller popped to his feet. I watched as he held up each book, animatedly flipping through them to point out illustrations or slips of paper he’d used to mark pages of note. The longer he talked, the more Lily’s anger collapsed, her fierce expression turning fond.

He gathered up the stack and gestured to the palace as if offering to carry them inside. When she shook her head, I felt my own shoulders sink along with Teller’s, but the small smile she flashed after taking them from his hands made me believe there was hope for them yet.

“Another night on guard duty?”

Even before she appeared at my side, I recognized Auralie’s voice. I gave a noncommittal grunt in response. I’d spent every night since Diem’s return sleeping just outside the canvas flap of her tent, and I knew her mother had noticed.

I must have looked like an overprotective loon, but it had little to do with keeping Diem safe. There wasn’t much I could do to protect her that she couldn’t do far more impressively herself. The real reason I kept close was something Diem would never want me to admit.

Stay with me?

That was the question she’d asked me the day she returned, in her rawest and most vulnerable state. In that moment, I’d realized her time on the island was not the bleak nightmare I’d feared. It was far, far worse.

Always, I’d promised.

And I was a man of my word.

Auralie held out a tied-up bedroll topped with a quilt. “Here. If you’re going to sleep outside, might as well be comfortable.”

I took it with a murmured thanks and laid it out on the grass, hoping it might satisfy her enough to send her away, but she continued to linger.

“I heard you told everyone about your mother,” she said. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“No,” I admitted, “but I’m glad for it. I’m not ashamed of who she

was.”

Auralie smiled. “What was she like?”

I frowned as I realized how much of her had been stolen from my memory by the ruthless thief of time. Her hair—was it curly, or just a gentle

wave? Were her eyes a golden bronze, or more like the wood of a Lumnos oak?

“She was quiet,” I said, seizing on the bits of her that remained. “She didn’t speak much. She sang, though. I would sit for hours and listen to her.

After she died, I used to hide near open windows in Mortal City at night, listening to women sing lullabies to their children. It reminded me of her.”

I bristled, surprised at how much I’d just revealed.

Auralie gave a thoughtful nod. “Sometimes I sit by the training rings while people are sparring. If I close my eyes, I can still hear my Andrei in the front yard, teaching our children to fight.”

We both fell quiet, understanding each other in the worst of ways.

“She must have loved you very much,” Auralie said softly, “to have fought so hard to get back to you after Remis sent her away.” She laid a hand on my arm. “I have no doubt she is impressed with the man you grew up to be.”

I didn’t respond—couldn’t, over the fire in my throat.

Her eyes returned to the tent. “I wish Diem could have known her.

Perhaps she would have been a better example of what a mother should be.”

“Give yourself more credit, Auralie. You raised the strongest woman I know.”

Her expression was troubled, unconvinced. “Diem and I used to talk every day. She would tell me about all the things that filled her life, good and bad. Now, she gives me one-word answers. She swears that all is fine, when anyone can see it isn’t.” She glanced at me. “And I think I’m not the only one she’s pushed away.”

Though I confessed nothing, the truth lay in my silence—and the single bedroll at my feet.

“I was not an easy woman to love,” Auralie said. “Old Gods know I gave Andrei every reason to walk away. He never did. That’s the kind of love she deserves.” Her hand tightened on my arm. “Don’t give up on her, Luther.”

“Never,” I growled. I laid my palm on my heart. “This belongs to Diem.

If she chooses to refuse it, that’s her decision, but mine is already made.”

My words seemed to give Auralie some comfort. With one last pat on my arm, she said good night. I drew in a steadying breath and stepped inside the tent.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Diem’s lantern was unlit and her Crown had been tucked away. Even her eyes had lost their magic-fueled glow. Her silhouette knelt in the center of the murky shadows.

I conjured a small orb of light and let it hover above her. She was naked, hunched, and shivering, her arms wrapped across her chest. If she heard me enter, she gave no sign, her vacant stare fixed on the empty darkness.

“Diem?”

No answer.

“Diem.”

Silence.

My voice turned softer. “My heart.”

She flinched, then slightly turned her head—as much of a greeting as I would get.

I set down her sword and harness, then gripped the back of my sweater and dragged it over my head. I knelt before her. “Lift your arms.”

Her eyelids fluttered as her steel-grey gaze paused on my bare chest and the spot where my scar wreathed my heart.

“You should go.” Her words were dandelions in the wind. So terribly fragile, one breath from ruin.

I kept my face still, refusing to burden her with the evidence of how her dismissal wrecked me. “Not yet.” I held the sweater over her head. “Lift your arms,” I said again, more gently.

She stared up at the open hem, yet she made no move to take it. Her grip tightened on her chest, her fingernails clawing for purchase against her skin.

“We agreed, remember?” I said. “When we’re alone, there’s no Queen or Prince. Only us. Equals. And that means sometimes you answer to me.” I lowered my chin, trying to catch her eye with my smirk. “You seemed to enjoy taking my orders in Sophos.”

My heart cracked when my words provoked no answering smile, no heat from those intimate memories, no response at all. Her stare fell again to my chest, hovering at my heart before dropping to where she covered her own. She shifted to force the hair on her shoulders to fall forward and further curtain her from my view.

The realization destroyed me: she was hiding herself. She’d done the same from the others, masking herself in oversized clothes while she recovered from the island’s effects, but even in our earliest days, when the

line between enemies and something else had been razor-thin, she’d never hidden her body from me.

Fury rose in a blazing rush. She was the one who taught me to embrace my scars. Did she really think there was any form her body could take that I would not love?

My jaw clenched hard, though I forced my expression to stay calm. I set the sweater down. “I’ll get you something else to wear.”

I walked to a trunk and began to rifle through its contents. While she’d been in Ignios, I’d stocked her tent with as many comforts as I thought she’d accept. A trove of warm, practical clothing. A plain wool rug to combat the frigid soil. A small pile of books that I knew made her laugh, though she’d yet to touch them. And weapons. So many weapons.

I gathered an armful of soft pieces fit for sleeping, then halted in my tracks. Diem had risen to her feet. She was wearing my sweater, its hem grazing her upper thigh.

As I came closer, she toyed with the ends of the sleeves and avoided my eyes. The movement gave me hope. If she was nervous, at least she was feeling. I did not fear Diem’s sorrow or her rage, but the Diem who felt nothing scared me more than anything I’d ever known.

I offered the clothes, and she took them. This time, she made no effort to hide as she slipped on undergarments and a pair of warm stockings, though she declined to trade my sweater for a thicker one I’d brought her.

I set it aside. “Gather up your hair.”

Doubt flitted over her face until she watched me withdraw her golden pendant from my pocket. She quickly swept her long waves in a pile on her head.

I circled behind her and reached over her shoulders to drape the thin chain around her neck. Her skin pebbled as my fingers slowly and deliberately brushed the column of her throat. I leaned in and breathed her in, savoring her unique floral scent. Prior to Diem’s arrival in my life, I’d encountered that fragrance only once before, on what had been the happiest day of my life—until one moment in a Sophos library forever replaced it.

I took the hair from her hands and gently combed my fingers through her curls, then wove them into a loose braid, grateful that Lily had insisted on teaching me the skill when she was young.

My fingers trailed down her shoulder. “Shall I get you food?” I craned my head around. “Warm cocoa?”

I did not get the laugh I’d hoped for. Her throat worked, and she shook her head.

Blessed Kindred, I wanted to pull her close. She was so near I could feel her heat, yet out of reach in all the ways that mattered.

“Do you remember what you said to me in Umbros, just before you discovered I’d been wounded?” I asked. “It was something your father told you: ‘You don’t have to see all of someone to love all of them.’ I may not see everything you’re going through, but I love you, Diem Bellator. All of you.”

As her eyes fell closed, a single tear broke free and trailed down her cheek. I kissed it away, then scooped her up into my arms and carried her to her bedroll. Once she was tightly tucked inside a cove of cushions and

blankets, I knelt at her side.

“Tell me to stay.”

A request. A demand. A desperate disciple’s prayer.

“Nothing has to happen,” I said. “Just let me stay here and hold you until you fall asleep.”

The war played out on the battlefield of her face: the cavalry of her stubborn resolve clashing with lonely arrows, all while bleeding from the explosive artillery of desire. There was not a second where I could tell which side was winning, only that casualties were mounting all around.

Her eyes fell guiltily away, her mouth closed tight.

The darker, possessive side of me gripped tighter to its sword, unwilling to accept defeat. It would be so easy, such a gods-damned relief, to hammer through her walls uninvited and force her to relent.

I would win, if I did. Perhaps not on a day when she was her fiery, strong-willed self, but the woman before me was down to the last weary soldier of her will to fight.

But I had sworn to go to war for her. Not against her.

So I took her hand, and I curled her fingers around the pendant I’d just clasped at her neck. My godhood called out to the spark of magic I’d infused in the phoenix’s ruby heart with an order to keep her warm. I had no idea if it would work, but when her eyelids heavied and her muscles relaxed, my spirit eased.

Against all my instincts, I finally rose to leave. The flap was almost closed behind me when I heard her speak again.

“Luther?”

I dipped my head inside, vibrating with hope. “Yes, my heart?”

Silence.

For so long, only silence.

“Thank you.”

They weren’t the words I’d hoped for.

But it was enough.

I raised my hand, and a burst of magic scattered over the canvas roof in a field of blue pinpricks that resembled the twinkling midnight sky—and in the corner, courtesy of my illusions, a crescent moon.

“Sleep well,” I said. “Better days will come, I promise.”

I prayed it was a promise I could keep.

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