Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 31

31

DIEM

great many impossible things had happened in my life over the pastA year, but finding myself alone and forgotten in the palace ballroom felt like one of the more improbable.

Since returning home, it seemed as though I couldn’t go anywhere without a long line of people demanding a piece of my time and ever- present eyes watching every misstep. Only in the shelter of my tent in the Guardians’ camp was I ever truly alone, and only in those dark, lonely hours did I wish that I wasn’t.

After the council meeting ended, it looked like this day would be no different. Eleanor insisted I mingle with the Embers, so I’d turned on my charm, becoming a bright, buoyant version of myself that felt like a stranger wearing my skin. I lingered with the crowd for hours, smiling and playing my part until late in the evening. When the daylight in the palace windows grew azure and dim, I couldn’t take one second more, so I made an excuse and snuck away. I returned to the meeting table, curled up in my chair, and closed my eyes, listening to the murmur of the crowd fade until the last person left.

By all accounts, the meeting had been a success. Eleanor’s brilliant plan had saved the day, and it had given her the confidence to find her voice.

Luther had used his reputation with immaculate skill. When he spoke, the entire room listened, and it had changed the tide of a vote more than once.

Zalaric had been invaluable, too. His cutting quips had a way of pointing out the absurdity in a person’s reasoning, including to the person themself.

Though the Embers had been understandably reluctant to make waves so soon, we managed to persuade the council to put an end to the worst of the

mortals’ treatment. By the close of the meeting, the members were negotiating as not-quite-yet-but-encouragingly-close-to equals.

The council was working. The people were leading. This was as good

an outcome as I could have hoped for.

So why did I feel so horribly sad?

The sound of the ballroom doors opening punched a hole through the quiet, and all my emotions drained out, leaving me with the hollow coldness I’d come to know so well. By the time my mother appeared, my back was straight and my heart was numb.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” she said. “I told them I saw you in the palace gardens. Thought it might buy you some time.”

She reached for a chair, and I stiffened. Of all the things I was avoiding, she was near the top of the list. She’d always seen right through all my lies.

Too bad that was a talent I hadn’t inherited from her.

I started to rise. “I’ll go see what they need.”

“Sit down, Diem.”

I obeyed without thinking, conditioned from years of working under her at the healers’ center. Her stern voice had been my guidelight for so many

years.

Now, it filled me with dread.

“The meeting went better than I expected,” she said. “You did very well.”

I looked down at the table, tracing a gnarl in the wood. “I didn’t do much. Just put the right people in the right place and tried to stay out of their way.”

“Sweetheart, that’s what leadership is.” She looked me over. “You know, I thought it would feel strange to see my little girl sit on a throne as Queen.”

“I’m not a little girl, Mother. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“It’s hard for parents to accept their children getting older.” She took a swath of my overskirt and gave it a playful tug. “But it turns out watching you inspire people isn’t strange at all. I’d like to think you learned it from me, but we both know your father deserves the credit.” She was smiling, though her eyes spoke of grief. “How I wish Andrei could see the woman you’ve become.”

I squirmed, internally fleeing from the emotions that threatened to rise.

“What do you think of the mortals on the council?”

She leaned back. “Bruno Albanon is a thoughtful man . . . Brant is not.

Don’t be fooled by his choice to stay in Lumnos. He’s loyal to Vance.

Whatever is said in this room will make its way to the north. As for the two who took the bribes . . . I pray their guilt is enough to keep them from ever doing it again. It’s a powerful motivator. So is forgiveness.”

I mulled over her words. “Thank you for what you did for Taran today.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Garath beat those boys, didn’t he?”

“What makes you say that?” I hedged, nervous what she might do if I confirmed it.

“The way Taran’s brother reacted . . . I’ve seen children like that, who go somewhere else in their minds when their parents are at their worst.”

My nose wrinkled. “There’s no excuse for Aemonn’s silence. He’s not a child anymore.”

“When something traumatic happens to someone at such a young age, sometimes a part of them never quite grows up.”

I thought back to how Taran had looked in those moments after his father’s cruelty, how clearly I could see the hurt little boy he’d been. Then I thought of Aemonn hunched in his chair—a man who was larger than life, trying desperately to make himself small.

And though Aemonn Corbois was the last person I wanted to pity, I couldn’t help wondering, with a weight in my chest, if that was how he’d

survived the abuse.

How he was still surviving it.

“Luther did well today, too.”

“Did you just say something nice about Luther Corbois?”

She laughed. “Luther and I made our peace. You told me that he was your future and that I needed to accept him to be part of it.” She leaned forward. “Is that no longer the case?”

Again, my eyes dropped away. That question had no easy answer.

“Diem,” she said gently, “if you need someone to talk to—”

“You loved Ophiucae,” I blurted out. “The spell that set him free . . . it required a child conceived in love.”

It came out like an accusation. She gave a slow nod. “I suppose I did, in the way all young people love the first person they fall for. There was little he could do for me, chained in a cell, but was always making small gestures to show he cared. And when he spoke of the future he wanted for Emarion,

it was a good one. A fair, peaceful world. Of course, he only saw himself as its leader . . .”

“That was only twenty years ago. If you saw good in him then, surely there’s still hope for him now.”

My voice sounded childish and desperate, and I despised the pity that flooded her eyes. “He’s done terrible things, Diem. He’s murdered so many.”

“Vance and his men did that. Ophiucae only lent his shield to protect

them.”

“Ophiucae is their leader.”

My temper cracked. “You were the Guardians’ leader when they bombed the Meros ports. By the Flames, Mother, you lit the fuse that killed the Montios King. Shall I sentence you to execution?”

She flinched at the comparison. “I do believe in redemption. There are many Descended I swore to kill if I ever came within blade’s reach. Today I sat across from twenty of them, and I forced myself to let go of vengeance for the good of the realm.”

I tensed, sensing what came next. “But?”

“Hatred is a poison. As healers, we know all poisons have a point of no return. Some people cannot be saved.” She shook her head sadly. “I don’t want to see your heart broken if Ophiucae is one of them.”

Angry defiance rose up within me. I’d pulled Luther back from the furthest edge of an incurable poison. Why couldn’t I do the same for my sire?

As if Luther had heard my thoughts, the ballroom doors opened again, and he stalked in. With my back to the door, I couldn’t see him, nor could I feel his aura due to the bronze cuffs still on my wrists, but I knew. The bond was my very own Meros compass, with its insatiable pull.

“I’m glad you’re here,” my mother said to him. “There’s something I need to tell you both. A hawk arrived from my contact in the north.

Ophiucae’s army needs more godstone weapons, and they’ve heard there’s a secret stockpile in the Fortos armory. They’re planning another attack there in three days’ time.”

“We’ll be ready,” Luther said. “I’ll speak with Alixe. We’ll bring all the reinforcements we can spare.”

My mother nodded. “I’ll do the same with the Guardians. With any luck, we can stop him before things get worse.” She patted my hand and

stood. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

She left, and my pulse quickened. Being alone with Luther was a risky game, one I craved and feared with equal passion.

He took her chair and moved it directly next to mine, turning it the opposite direction. He let out a long exhale as he lounged back and stretched his legs.

“Did Doriel and Obaneryn leave?” I asked him.

“They did. I sent Tybold to make sure their boat doesn’t turn back.”

That was unexpected. Tybold nearly roasted Luther alive last night.

Now he was obeying Luther’s command?

“My mother said people were searching for me.”

“I told them I’d find you.” He closed his eyes. “I’m still looking.”

He set his forearm on the armrest, his knuckles a hair from my skin. I told my arm to pull away. It moved a little closer.

“Luther, what you did at the meeting today—”

His fingers wrapped around my arm, just above my elbow. His touch was tender but firm enough to render me silent. My lungs went breathless, warm lightning crackling through my blood.

With his eyes closed and no one around, I took the chance to study him.

He’d been dressing differently lately. Looser cuts, plainer fabrics. Still elegantly tailored—this was Luther Corbois, after all—but if it wasn’t for the jeweled sword on his back, no one would guess him a privileged Prince.

Most shocking was the way he’d taken to leaving his shirts undone so the fabric hung open to reveal his chest, scar and all. In another man, I might have found it vain. In Luther, I saw it for the hard-won victory of self- acceptance it was.

My gaze fell to the circular scar over his heart. The untouched skin at its center provoked a tempest of emotions. Joy, that he no longer hid his scars.

A twinge of jealousy that I could not display my mating mark with equal

pride. And love—so much love.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

I ignored his command, keeping my focus on his tanned olive skin. I followed the line of his scar up his throat, where it disappeared into the black forest of his beard and reemerged across his lips. My focus lingered on his mouth as I remembered all the places that mouth had been.

What I wouldn’t give to be back in the Sophos library, hiding from the pressures of thrones and fates. For those two blissful days, there’d been

nothing but us, and gods, we’d made the most of it. My thighs squeezed together at the memory of his fingers threaded in my hair, his broad chest rocking against mine, the way he filled me so completely . . .

His eyes snapped open.

“Naughty girl.” His tone rolled with heady warning, gas on my growing fire. “I said eyes closed.”

I held his stare, feeling reckless and defiant. I had so little control over my life, I was seizing whatever scraps of it I could find.

His fingers grazed my skin, slow and taunting. “Do I need to remind you that good girls get rewarded?”

“I seem to remember being bad got me rewarded, too.”

A sensation of hardness throbbed between my legs, but its dark hunger wasn’t mine. Apparently, I could feel Luther’s arousal through the bond, too. My body responded in kind, my breath quickening and my skin burning hot.

“If you won’t close your eyes,” he said roughly, “I’ll do it for you.”

With a curl of his finger, the lights in the ballroom guttered. Shadows curtained the windows to mask the sapphire dusk. My senses tightened on the slow stroke of his fingers up my inner arm, an innocent touch that the pitch-black room turned thrillingly sinful.

Leave, my conscience warned. You’re too weak to withstand this.

But Luther’s desire made me feel stronger than I’d felt in months. In the darkness, I could pretend that what I did not touch did not exist, and what I did touch, I could conquer. The thought emboldened me. I shifted in my chair, causing his hand to brush the bare skin along my ribs.

“I wanted to give you a moment to relax in peace,” his voice rolled through the shadows, “but you are making it very difficult to relax.”

The ballroom doors cracked open with a sliver of light, and my heart sank—but a moment later they closed, and the darkness engulfed us once again. Luther’s hand stilled at the sound of giggling and shuffling feet. An orb of Lumnos light appeared in the far corner of the room.

“Put your magic away,” a woman’s voice insisted. “If anyone finds us, my mother will have a fit.”

A distinctly masculine chuckle followed, and the orb blinked out. “Fine.

It’s more fun in the dark.”

Her girlish giggles were cut off by smacking, rustling clothes, and a breathy, unmistakable moan.

I seized Luther’s arm in panic. He remained completely still, and a cool mist wisped across my cheek. His magic, I realized with a start. He was using his shadows to conceal us, and with my magic blocked by the cuffs, I wasn’t able to absorb it. I was entirely at the mercy of his godhood.

Luther’s excitement at the discovery rippled through me as his magic thickened into a hand that wrapped across my mouth. Luther had no desire to announce our presence—and no intention of letting me go.

Across the room, the man groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.”

I arched my back, my core seeking friction as I imagined those words from a different voice. It had been so long since we’d been together. The mating bond was growing impatient with brushing arms and skimming hands, and so was I.

The woman’s moans grew louder. Two more shadowy hands took hold of my shoulders, gently pressing me back against my chair, as Luther toyed with the edge of the fabric draped across my breasts. Each touch was so light, almost accidental, turning my need wild with unfulfilled desire. I stretched toward him in an urgent bid for more, and his hand shifted to keep its distance.

He was teasing me. Punishing me, perhaps, for pushing him away.

Or maybe he knew me even better than I thought. I ran from pressure.

When forced, I fought back with all my might. But these alluring reminders of what I could have, if only I reached out and took it—that was how he’d torn down my walls. He seemed determined to do it again.

Across the room, the woman squealed with surprise, followed by the clang of items being knocked off a sideboard, and the creak of weight being laid on wood.

She laughed. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then you better be quiet,” the man said. “Spread those pretty legs so I can have a taste.”

His voice went silent, and her moaning resumed. I should have felt ashamed for intruding on such a private moment, but with every husky groan and mewling whimper that floated through the darkened rafters, my defiance grew.

I was sick of doing the wiser thing and being miserable for it. I wanted to be wild and indulgent and foolish. I wanted to banish my emptiness with something that would make me feel.

I found Luther’s hand in the darkness and guided it to my breast. He needed no more encouragement than that. He greedily palmed its soft swell, kneading the peaks between his fingers until they were tender and hard.

Muffled cries of my own escaped from beneath the shadow hand across my mouth.

He shifted to the other breast, coming perilously close to the mating mark. I wondered, with a mix of terror and excitement, what would happen if he touched it. Would I light up like the midnight moon? Would his blood sing in harmony with mine?

The risk heightened my passion, making every stroke of his thumb a flying arrow. For once, the danger of being discovered became something I craved. I could no longer pretend that I was in control. Luther had me entirely at his command, and I fucking loved it.

His hand roamed—lower, lower—tracing the waist of my pants. I opened my legs, trying to will him on without words. He cupped my sensitive core, massaging through the leather. His warm breath spilled across my cheek as he leaned in to my ear.

“I wonder,” he said, “are you wet for me, too?”

Oh, I was soaked. My heart raced with exhilaration at the prospect of letting him find out for himself.

The woman’s moans turned into screams as she crested her release. The sounds of passion gave way to soft kisses, then silence. Luther stilled, and I sulked with disappointment. I wasn’t ready to face the distance between us that I knew would return once this moment ended.

Not yet. Please, not yet.

Then— “You taste so damn good when you come for me, baby,” the man’s voice growled. “Bend over and give me that tight little ass. It’s my turn.”

Wood creaked, the woman gasped, and the man let out a deep, guttural groan of satisfaction.

Every nerve ending sparked. Scandalous scenarios played in my head— how much could Luther’s shadows hide? How quiet could I be? Was I willing to risk being discovered face down on the council table, the Prince of Lumnos buried inside me?

I squeezed Luther’s wrist in a silent plea and bucked my hips, desperately searching for relief. He didn’t pull back, but didn’t move either, forcing me to guide his hand up and down my center.

Forcing me to admit to us both what I wanted.

He nipped at the lobe of my ear, and I might have come right then and there, were it not for the next words whispered: “Make any noise, and I’ll stop.”

It was a promise as much as a threat—especially when his fingers slid beneath the leather of my pants, then the lace of my undergarments, straight to the slick heat that gave me away.

“That’s my girl,” Luther breathed, slow and reverent.

The shadow hand loosened from my mouth and wrapped around my throat, laying the gentlest of pressure against my pulse. I hardly needed to be quiet any longer, thanks to our noisy friends across the room. She was very vocal, and he was, apparently, very skilled. The darkness echoed with a symphony of carnal slapping sounds, but the secrecy made it all the more exciting, so I swallowed my cries as Luther’s thumb swirled around my clit.

The dark, wisping hands on my shoulders moved to my breasts and toyed with my nipples. Two more took me by the hips, their possessive grip somehow both ephemeral and impossibly strong. Blinded by the darkness, every sensation was heightened—icy shadows prickling my heated skin, the scrape of his beard against my jaw, and the languid stroke of his very rough, very real fingers.

The feeling of his touch enveloped me. Even the shadows thrummed with his energy. With one hand still guiding his wrist, I reached out into the darkness with the other, and when it found his face, my heart sang at his contented hum.

Two of his fingers plunged inside me. I arched forward, burying my face in his shoulder to hold back my cries. My panting breaths drew in his woodsy smell—earth and cedar, pepper and musk—and filled my lungs with his scent, his name, his desire.

Elsewhere in the ballroom, the rhythmic sound of skin against skin grew louder and faster. Luther’s fingers pushed in and out in a matching beat while his thumb kept up a maddening dance around my swollen, sensitive core. Though I was desperate to make this last, pressure built faster than I could stop it.

I felt along his cheek until I found the ridge of his scar. I set my palm against it, letting it ground me in my disorienting passion. He pressed his lips to the crescent-shaped mark on my collarbone in tender response.

The sweetness of the gesture and what it stood for—our acceptance of each other, exactly as we were—were my undoing. My muscles went tight, then blissfully loose, and a whimper escaped as ecstasy shattered through me. He stroked me through each quivering wave, and I turned to liquid in his arms. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he held me as close as our

chairs would allow.

I was happy.

Even if just for one heartbeat, I was happy.

And so was he. His contentment filled my chest with twinkling warmth that might have set my skin alight, were it not for the cuffs on my wrists.

In the post-bliss glow, the answers to the questions that plagued me seemed so different. Of course I should tell him the truth and let him complete the bond. Of course we could find a way to change Ophiucae’s heart. With Luther as my mate, there was nothing we couldn’t do.

He pulled back slightly, the sparks of magic in his blue-grey eyes casting just enough of a glow for me to see his face. He smirked at my tiny whine as his fingers slid out of me. A tendril of shadow took me gently by the chin, forcing me to hold his stare. He raised his glistening fingers to his mouth and, one by one, he licked them clean.

My thoughts emptied.

“Shit, baby, that was so good,” the man across the room said between the sounds of clothes being tugged back into place. “We should sneak around more often.”

Luther’s eyes gleamed with amusement, as if to say: So should we.

The door flew open with a bang.

“Queenie, you in here?”

The woman shrieked as the ballroom lights sparked to life. Luther’s magic surged across my skin with the cloak of an illusion.

“Oh, uh—hello,” the man stammered. “We were just, um . . . you see, she and I were—”

“I think we already know,” Zalaric’s voice droned.

“You two seen Her Majesty around?” Taran chimed in.

The man laughed nervously. “Nope, no one in here but us.” Two pairs of footsteps shuffled for the door. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll just, uh . . . .” His voice trailed off as the footsteps ran away.

“I thought you said they were in here, Zal.”

“I said Luther was in here. I haven’t felt Diem’s aura since last night.”

The haze of lust cleared, and reality came crashing down. My hand withdrew from Luther, and I shrank into my chair.

“She’s acting strange,” Taran said. “I don’t like it. When Queenie’s not good, none of us are good.”

“Luther knows her best, and he said she—”

“Looking for me?” Luther said loudly, rising from his chair. His magic parted to reveal him—and only him.

Zalaric let out a surprised laugh. “Were you in here while those two were . . . .?”

Luther strode toward them. “Go ahead, Taran. Make your jokes. I know you’ve got them.”

Taran grunted. “I have nothing to say to you.”

I frowned. The Taran I knew would have the time of his life teasing Luther for eavesdropping on another couple’s romp.

“I thought you were going to find Diem with your compass,” Taran said, his tone cutting.

“The compass can’t find her. She must still be wearing the cuffs from the meeting.”

“You’re real calm about that. Last time she went missing, you bit the heads off half the palace.”

“She wasn’t missing, she was taken. I do not fear her needing time to herself, if that is her desire, but I will not let anyone take her from me unwilling ever again.”

Those words were meant for me—a reassurance of his devotion, and a vow to keep me safe. But there were some villains even my mighty Prince couldn’t defeat.

“She’s probably hiding from her new little brother,” Luther teased.

“Little?” Taran shot back. “I’m not little.”

“Why do you think I’m still here?” Zalaric purred.

I cracked a smile. I missed spending time with Taran. He always told me what I needed, if not wanted, to hear. It was the reason I adored him— and the reason I’d been keeping my distance.

Three sets of footsteps moved to leave, and the lights in the ballroom went dark. “You think Diem would cut off my balls if I called her Sissy?”

Taran asked.

I would, I thought.

“She would,” Zalaric said.

“She absolutely would,” Luther agreed. “I left something at the table.

I’ll meet you two in the hall.”

The doors snapped shut, returning the room to shadows. Footsteps approached, and Luther’s calloused hand found mine. A small metal object pressed into my palm. “This will open the cuffs whenever you’re ready. I’ll

keep the others busy until then.”

I swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

“Turns out you were right,” he rumbled into the darkness, walking away. “Bad girls get rewarded, too.”

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