Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 30

30

DIEM

blinked.I Shook my head, as if denial might make it untrue.

My mother pelted the man with harsh words and accusations, but as I stared in dumbfounded shock, my eyes settled on a strange place: his boots.

Nothing remarkable on the surface, the same you’d find in any mortal home. But they were clean—not a fray in the stitching, nor a scuff on the soles. And his hands were covered in the kind of blisters and precise little cuts only earned from hours of meticulous work.

“They bought you back your business,” I murmured—more to myself than anyone else, given the uproar his vote had provoked. Somehow, he heard it, his confirmation in the shame that stared back.

Two weeks.

That’s how long it had taken the Twenty Houses to buy back their power. Two weeks to undo everything I’d fought so hard to create.

Two fucking weeks.

From the second the Crown appeared above my head, I knew I was ill- equipped to wear it. What could a young mortal healer possibly know about leading a realm? But never had I felt this small, this pathetically out of my depth.

“That’s eight votes,” Marthe declared, practically bursting at her withered seams with glee. “The proposal passes. Diem is off the council.”

“Guards,” Garath yelled, “escort her out.”

The guards stared at each other, then at Alixe, unsure how to proceed.

One started hesitantly toward me, then stumbled back when Luther eyed him with a snarl.

“As our next matter, I nominate Garath Corbois as Chief of Council,”

Marthe said. “His expertise as Warden to late King Ulther will serve us all well.”

Garath made a show of looking shocked. His terrible acting fooled no one. He and Marthe had planned every step of this together.

“I would be honored to serve my realm, Marthe, but only with you as my fellow—”

“Three votes,” Luther’s voice boomed behind me. His timbre was so laced with dominance, every head turned like trained dogs on command. “It appears the mortals have mastered basic math, but the Houses have not.

Only three votes have been cast in your favor, Marthe. Three, not eight. The Houses have not yet had their say. There are some things they should know before they do.”

“Luther, what are you doing?” I whispered.

“Keeping a promise.” He placed a hand on my side, thumb grazing a searing line across my bare ribs as he nudged me back into my seat.

He seemed to tower ten heads high as he held the room captive. No one dared to utter a word, even as he took his time staring down each House in turn.

That’s what a Crown should be, I thought as I watched him. My heart tumbled with emotions, not all of which I was proud to admit.

They feared Luther. They respected him, too. He’d been groomed to lead, and they’d been groomed to submit. His inheritance of the throne had gone unquestioned for almost as long as he’d been alive. He might not have been fated to wear the Lumnos Crown, but he was born to be a King.

Luther clasped his hands behind his back. “Most of you are aware that, for many years, Iléana Hanoverre and I were . . .” He worked his jaw. “ . . . betrothed.”

Iléana smirked at me. My magic-suppressing cuffs twitched with another crack.

“In that time,” he went on, “she shared with me many of House Hanoverre’s most closely guarded secrets. I think it’s time those secrets see the light of day.”

Iléana’s amusement drained along with the color in her face. Marthe whacked her with her cane. “You stupid girl,” she hissed, “what have you done?”

Luther leaned forward and set his hands on the table. “House Althiena, were you aware that Marthe personally blocked every trade deal you sought because she feared your House might grow stronger than hers?”

At the Althiena table, the wiry eyebrows of its elderly patriarch drew low. His angry stare drifted to Marthe, who silently pursed her lips.

“House Teniers,” Luther said, “let’s not forget the fleas she released in your homes after you received a royal appointment she wanted for herself.”

The woman at the Teniers table screeched. “Marthe, we were itching for weeks!”

“House Ghislaine,” Luther went on, “did you notice that the dressmakers stopped accepting your visits? Turns out one of your daughters didn’t curtsey low enough for Marthe’s satisfaction.” He rumbled a laugh.

“One of her pettier moves. But not as childish as when she paid a chef at House Amraut to cook a special dinner that sent the entire family running to their toilets to—well . . . a gentleman shouldn’t speak of such things.”

Faces paled at a table to the left, then flushed bright red as the other Houses tittered with laughter. Luther went on—and on and on and on— sharing story after story of Marthe’s scheming and acts of revenge.

Not a single House was spared. Even House Corbois had been a target, causing Garath to silently seethe. With each revelation, Iléana sank further into her chair, while Marthe looked steely and unashamed, though her white-knuckled hands gave her away.

“What do you think, Marthe,” Luther asked, “have they heard enough?”

Her eyes crinkled as they narrowed to daggers.

Luther smiled coldly. “Perhaps Evrim Benette would like to learn how his beloved mother really died.”

Gasps sucked the air from the room. A chill crept up my spine at the blackened, boiling rage in Evrim’s eyes.

“Luther,” Iléana choked. “Stop.”

“I warned you, Iléana. I told you at the Ascension Ball that if your family came for Diem, I would make it their end. Do not doubt my loyalty to my Queen ever again.”

“I—I know s-secrets, too,” she sputtered. “You defied King Ulther. Y- you snuck into Mortal City. Gave them medicines they’re not allowed to have. And . . . and . . . you changed the tax rolls. You made it look like some families paid when they hadn’t.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I don’t think you even executed those half-mortal children!”

Her eyes darted around the room for allies that weren’t there. Most Descended were still reeling from the news of Marthe’s antics, while the mortals stared at Luther with newfound appreciation. Even Taran and Alixe looked pleasantly surprised.

“You’re right,” Luther said. “Every word of that is true.” His eyes dropped to me. “Will my Queen condemn me for it?”

Gods, I’d never loved him more.

I placed a palm across my heart, fearful that the mark on my skin would burn bright enough to blind the room. “I will not,” I said softly.

His lingering gaze was a warm caress. He looked up to address the Houses. “Two families have controlled this realm for centuries. House Corbois used the throne. House Hanoverre used backstabbing and tricks.

They are only two—you are eighteen. Together, you can bring this to an end.”

Garath slowly clapped his hands, the sound echoing into the rafters of the quiet room. “A lovely speech, nephew. Truly enlightening. But you’re a little late. They’ve already given their votes.”

“To who?” I asked.

“To me,” Marthe said.

“And to me,” Garath said. “A pact, agreed on by the heads of all Twenty Houses. Sealed with a bonded bargain, so you can never divide us.”

The miserable looks of regret growing across the Houses were enough to confirm. The head of House Amraut rubbed the space between her eyes.

“We didn’t give you our votes, Garath. We agreed the Twenty Houses would always vote as one. Decisions must still be made together.”

“Not this decision. Unless you intend to forfeit your magic, the girl goes.” He looked at Zalaric. “So do the mutts.”

Taran launched over the table. Zalaric managed to snag a fistful of tunic and slow him down long enough for Alixe and Luther to drag their cousin back. Garath smirked at his son’s rage, while Aemonn stared blankly at the floor and the Hanoverres chuckled.

“Have you no shame?” my mother yelled at Garath. “What kind of parent delights in their own son’s suffering?”

Garath couldn’t have looked less ashamed. “The kind of parent who doesn’t tolerate a traitor.”

“Then explain him,” Taran shouted, ripping a boot from his foot and hurling it at his brother. Garath jumped to avoid it, but Aemonn didn’t even

blink when the shoe struck the table and bounced into his chest.

“You think those muscles fool anyone, boy?” Garath taunted. “You’re weak. You’ve always been weak.” He picked up Taran’s shoe like it was poisoned and tossed it aside. “You’re a constant disappointment. The only thing I’m ashamed of is sharing your name.”

The fight died in Taran’s spirit. He fell still, his only movement the shaky rise and fall of his heaving chest.

“Brother,” Remis warned, but Garath shot him a silencing look that seemed loaded with something more dangerous than sibling disagreement.

Garath sat back into his chair. “I’ve done all I can to fix you, boy. When something is broken beyond repair, you throw it out. From this day on,

you’re no longer a Corbois.”

Aemonn’s head sank lower.

“Then he will be a Bellator.” My mother rose and strode to Taran’s side.

She took his hand and wrapped it in both of hers, dropping her voice to a murmur. “I have one brave, strong son that I am very proud of. I’d be honored if you would make it two.”

The look on Taran’s face nearly broke me. He looked on the verge of saying no, and I feared it was not because he didn’t want to accept, but because some part of him didn’t believe he deserved it. For as much as he hated Garath, the little boy inside him still craved his father’s love and blamed himself when he did not get it.

Zalaric studied Taran’s hesitance, then let out a theatrical, drawn-out groan. “Thank the gods. I was wondering how I could live with myself if I courted a Corbois.” He visibly shuddered. “A Bellator is a much more impressive catch.”

Taran’s eyes drifted to me. I knew if I spoke, I’d burst into tears, so I gave an encouraging smile. The sound of footsteps brought Teller into view.

“Come on, brother,” he said to Taran. “Sit with me.”

Taran gave a shallow nod. Luther reached to clasp his shoulder, but Taran shoved him off with an anger I didn’t quite understand. Luther looked troubled as he watched Teller lead Taran away to the seats behind my chair.

“If you’re quite done taking in our trash, we have business to conduct,”

Garath said.

My temper snapped. I looked around for a sword I could snatch off a guard to slice Garath’s tongue from his mouth, but Zalaric interrupted with a low, menacing laugh.

“The time will come soon when you lose everything, Garath Corbois, and when it does, I want you to remember that this was the day that sealed your fate.”

“Are you threatening me?” Garath snapped.

“If he isn’t, I am,” Luther said.

“So am I,” my mother mumbled.

So am I, I thought darkly.

Garath haughtily straightened his doublet. “None of this changes the result. The Houses vote together, which means we have eight votes. Diem is —”

“Norwick didn’t vote,” Eleanor called out.

I realized with a start that she was no longer seated beside me. In all the chaos of Taran and Garath’s fight, she’d crept across the room to House Benette, where she and Norwick were still exchanging whispers.

She paused again and looked up. “Norwick wasn’t part of your agreement. He can vote however he wants.”

“He’s still bound by the bonded bargain,” Garath said. “All the Houses are.”

“The Heads of Houses,” Remis corrected. “Isn’t that what you told me, brother?” His smile was brittle. “Isn’t that the reason you’re there?”

Suddenly, I understood why Remis had mysteriously retired. For Garath’s plan to work, each Head of House needed to pledge their magic to the bonded bargain. Remis had no magic to give, a fact he was desperate to keep under wraps.

What I didn’t understand was why the most restrained man in the realm had just come so close to letting it slip.

Ravyn Byrnum turned a shade greener. “Are you saying that if Norwick votes against us and breaks the bargain, all the Heads of House will lose our magic, but he loses nothing?”

“He’ll lose his head,” her twin Ryx mumbled.

Guilt sat heavy on my shoulders. The target I’d put on Norwick’s back had just become a guillotine hanging by a single thread. Could I ask him to take this risk when it might be the last thing he ever did?

“You could all change your votes,” Eleanor suggested. “Marthe Hanoverre has proven she can’t be trusted. If you give her control of this council, eventually she’ll take your votes, too. But if you vote as one for Diem—”

“We can’t,” the Head of House Ghislaine said. “They made that part of the pact, too. If any of us votes in her favor, we all pay the price.”

“Norwick,” Evrim warned him, “don’t even consider it. Marthe will pay for what she’s done, but if you cost me my magic, so will you.”

“Listen to your kin, boy,” Ravyn Byrnum said. “Don’t make an enemy of us all.”

Norwick drooped against his chair. Tension stretched through the silent room, every soul awaiting his choice. His eyes were bleak as he looked up

at Eleanor.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Norwick, wait,” I said.

I swore beneath my breath. Was I really about to do this? Why could I not be the ruthless Queen just this once, when so much depended on it?

“Vote against me,” I told him. “My seat is not worth your life.”

Eleanor deflated. Norwick frowned. The other Houses groaned with relief.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Nidara, then again to Zalaric, then to the mortals, though I was too ashamed to meet my mother’s eyes. I looked back at Norwick. “Just promise me you’ll fight for them,” I begged.

“No,” he said flatly.

I didn’t think my spirit could sink any lower, but Norwick Benette had proved me wrong. Finally and fully defeated, I rose from my chair to leave.

“My death will come when the Blessed Mother wills it,” Norwick said.

“If that is today, so be it. My vote is no.”

The Houses erupted. Angry Descended flew toward the Benette table as Alixe shouted for guards to intervene.

I stared at Norwick in a daze. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“It’s not for you. Perthe is the reason you found me in that armory. He owed his life debt to you, and I owe mine to him. This is how I repay it.”

A shield glittered around him as guards flooded the room. Evrim Benette pounded on its walls, demanding that he change his vote. Other Houses shouted threats against his life and his family and his lovers, vowing to bring their vengeance down on all their heads.

Norwick waved them off. “I answer to Blessed Lumnos for my choices.

I fear her more than the lot of you.”

“Wait,” Eleanor shouted, waving her hands. “Wait! There might be a way to save your magic.” At those words, the room fell to an eager lull.

“The bargain requires the Houses to vote as one, and it forbids any Head of House from voting against Marthe’s plan. Those are the only terms, right?

Well if there are no Heads of House left on the council, then as long as the Houses still vote together, the bargain won’t be broken.”

“We made this pact to protect the council’s future,” Marthe insisted.

“We must see it through, even if it costs us our magic.”

No one—not even Garath—spoke up to agree. You could have heard a hairpin drop in the silence that followed as the Heads of House mentally combed through the bargain’s wording for their last ounce of hope.

The Head of House Ghislaine gave me a wary look. “If we resign from the council . . . you choose our replacements?”

“Unacceptable,” Marthe said. “She’ll pick our weakest, poorest members. She’ll keep the council in her pocket. She’ll—”

“Oh shut up, Marthe,” Ryx and Ravyn said in unison.

“We should have known not to listen to you after you botched the Challenging,” Ravyn said. “Crawl back to your crypt and let the rest of us clean up your mess.”

I’d had precious few moments of joy since returning from the island.

Watching Marthe’s craggy jaw hang open was easily top of the list.

“How do we know you’ll pick someone worthy to speak for our families?” one Head of House asked me.

“What about a compromise?” Eleanor offered. “She’ll select your replacements immediately from the people in this room. You brought your advisors and your closest allies. Let her choose from among them.”

I caught Eleanor’s gaze, my eyes bulging in silent panic. I barely knew the Heads themselves, let alone the supporters crowded around them. How could I possibly make such a critical decision on the spot?

Then she did the strangest thing.

She winked.

Slowly, unhappily, each Head of House gave their reluctant resignation from the council, and their focus shifted to hiding their less clever—or less controllable—family members from my sight. Even Garath succumbed to the pressure, selfish to the core.

Marthe, of course, was the final holdout. She sat in her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, and didn’t say a word. She bore into me with her malicious glare, and I began to wonder if my magic was still suppressed, because it felt as if I could hear every nasty thought: I’ve lived this long. I

don’t have much time left. What does it matter if I spend it without magic?

At least I could take my rivals down before I go.

So I used my last, best weapon: I grinned.

A goading, do-it-I-dare-you grin. A let’s-watch-the-world-burn-together

grin.

A triumphant grin.

Because I’d already won. If she accepted, she was off the council, and her dreams of running the realm would end. If she refused, she’d practically be doing me a favor, cutting my enemies off at their knees, and she’d provoke a war against House Hanoverre. That was one war I’d welcome with glee.

And so the brief, ignoble reign of Marthe Hanoverre came to an end, not in a blaze of spiteful glory, but in a pinch of her wrinkled face and two mumbled words: “I resign.”

Eleanor ran to my side and immediately rattled off a list of names that sounded familiar. As I repeated them aloud and their owners stepped forward, I realized why—these were the people she’d introduced to me

before the meeting.

Eleanor’s Embers.

And my beautiful, clever Regent had chosen them well. Though their names might have raised some curious eyebrows, none provoked any protest. Far from being outcasts, they were well-liked and well-connected, known for being clever or fair. At worst, the others might have seen it as Eleanor playing favorites with her friends at court.

None would suspect we were laying the flagstones of a revolution.

When the last of the Embers were seated at the council table, Eleanor squeezed my hand three times, and we exchanged a smile, profound with relief and bright with a fragile yet burgeoning hope.

I leaned forward in my seat, and the path to a better Lumnos began at last.

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