Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 39

39

DIEM

he sky was raining ale.T Its earthy, malted aroma filled my nose as the amber liquid drizzled over my skin. “Not the hair,” I groaned, covering my head. “I’m going to smell like a tavern for a week.”

“Oh come on, D,” Henri shouted. He shoved a mug into my hands, then crashed his against it, sending a tidal wave sloshing into my face. He grinned at my dripping glare. “Celebrate with us.”

I handed the mug off to a nearby guard, who was all too glad to add it to the two already in her fists. She lifted them and shouted, “Victory for the Queen!”

Across the massive crowd of revelers that had gathered on the palace lawn, a handful of revelers echoed her cheer, though others exchanged looks.

I forced a smile. “Not for me,” I yelled. “For Emarion!” This time, everyone wholeheartedly joined in.

“Quit sulking,” Henri said. He threw his arm around my shoulder, losing more of his mug’s contents to the soil. “In case you haven’t noticed, we won.”

“They retreated,” I corrected, wiping the ale off my face. “Winning would be stopping them for good.”

“We stopped them before they took any lives, and we didn’t lose a single soldier. That’s worth celebrating.”

After weeks of chasing all over the continent, a clue from my mother’s source had finally led us to Vance and his men. Once again, Ophiucae was not with them. When they saw how large my army had grown since our last

clash, half of them turned and fled. When I unleashed my magic, the other half followed suit. Vance alone held the line from his horse, burning me alive with his glare until a warning arrow sent him riding away.

We’d dealt a massive strike to their morale, if not their numbers. The Guardians in my army were thrilled they didn’t have to kill their own, and the Descended were relieved that Ophiucae’s massacres had skidded to a

halt.

Henri was right—it was a win.

I should be happy.

My hand tightened around my still-empty scabbard. “I’m going to check with the kitchens. It was a long march home, everyone could use a hot meal.”

I tried to shrug him off, but he grabbed my arm and tugged me back.

“You’re still here, D. That’s a good thing.”

He pinned me with a loaded stare that had a lump forming in my throat.

Henri knew the full truth of what the victory I sought might cost me.

“Go find Lana,” I urged him. “She’ll be happy to see you. But no forcing ale on her, alright?”

He grinned wide. Though I’d been skeptical at first, looming fatherhood had changed him. His years of bottled anger were fermenting to a sweet, effervescent excitement for the future. I’d even caught him trading friendly jokes with some Descended on the road back to Lumnos, a scene I never thought I’d see.

“Only if you go find that snooty Prince of yours, too,” he teased.

This smile, I didn’t have to force. “I will,” I promised.

He let me go and disappeared into the throng. Despite my strange mood, I paused to savor the moment. There were so many new faces. Word had spread of what I was doing here in Lumnos, and every day, more people arrived to join our fight. The borders between the different factions of my army had grown almost too blurred to define, everyone mingling together in a beautiful weave. Even the Ignios refugees had set aside their self-imposed isolation to join in, thanks in large part to Taran’s swiftness at dragging out the palace casks. He was currently hanging halfway out a third-floor window, pouring a shower of ale as soldiers held their cups up from below.

I slipped through the jostling bodies into the palace and stopped by the kitchens, where I was met there by a mix of blue, brown, and orange eyes.

Eleanor had offered generous salaries to fill the gaps in palace staff, and I

was pleased to see that she’d broken the long-standing House Corbois policy of only hiring its own.

After discussing arrangements to feed the crowd outside, I slipped into the staff passageways and snuck to the royal wing, eager to avoid the Corbois griping in the halls. To them, my decision to spread the royal wealth was a theft of the coffers they felt entitled to by birthright. It didn’t matter that House Corbois had more than enough gold left over to fund their lavish lifestyles—the prospect of a single coin being taken to help someone else was a reprehensible affront.

Our family earned that money, they said.

It’s their own fault those people are poor, they said.

They simply need to work harder, they said.

I would have told them their family’s wealth had come at those people’s expense, made possible by preferential laws enforced by a government run by and for their kind that spent exponentially more time preserving its power than protecting its people—if I thought they’d hear a word of it.

Gilded hearts were not easily changed.

I made it to my chambers and tore off my dirty leathers, then quickly washed the dirt and sticky ale from my skin. As I stood in front of my wardrobe, I surprised even myself when I reached for a body-hugging gown in a bright vermillion knit. Lately, I’d been finding excuses to show off the curves I’d worked so hard to gain back. I couldn’t even blame it on Luther —ever since our night in the woods, keeping him from tearing off my clothes and revealing my mark had become a daily battle. The more of my body I put on display, the more ardently he fought.

The truth was, I wanted to look beautiful. Not for him, but for me. His reverent love was lethal against my self-doubt, as were the support of my friends and my small but cherished triumphs as Queen. I was finally growing comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t need to choose between warrior or healer or Crown, mortal or Descended, feminine or strong. I was all of them at once, and I was better for it.

The door opened, and the flutter of the bond told me who it was. A smile tugged at my lips.

“Help me with these laces?” I asked, holding the dress to my chest and glancing at him over my bare shoulder.

Luther’s nostrils flared, his heated gaze traveling over my naked back as he came up behind me. “Only if you’re taking it off.”

“And miss all the fun outside?”

His eyes snapped back up at the sarcasm in my tone. “If you don’t feel like celebrating with the others, I can think of a few alternatives.” His knuckles grazed up my spine. “One in particular.”

I stretched up to steal a kiss, and he seized his chance. His fingers tangled in my hair to hold me at his will as his tongue moved in deep, possessive strokes. His other hand skimmed over my ribs, kneading his

thumb against my breast.

I whimpered softly. “Luther.”

“You can drop that dress now.”

“Luther.”

A rumble rolled from his chest. “I love hearing you say my name.” He nipped at my jaw. “I love it more when you scream it.”

“I need to join the others. I’m—” I gasped as his fingers tightened and a thrilling tingle coursed across my scalp. “I’m their Queen.”

“Exactly. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Your Majesty.”

With a pathetic whine, I pressed a hand to his chest and eased him away.

“You know better than anyone how not true that is, Your Highness.” His jaw ticked. I flashed a sweet smile and gave him my back. “Laces, please.”

He let out a frustrated grunt that was, frankly, adorable, then gave in and laced up the dress. He sank onto my bed as I finished pinning up my hair and dabbing rouge on my lips. Even though I was the furthest thing from healed and still getting reacquainted with happy, painting my body in colors and draping it in pretty things made me feel, for a night, like I was. Perhaps I was simply putting diamonds on ash, but it sparkled all the same.

“What’s this?” Luther asked, picking up a journal on my nightstand.

I glanced at it, and my stomach clenched. “My mother’s notes on treating godstone wounds.”

“Your blood can heal godstone. Why do you need this?”

“I don’t anymore. It was from . . . before.”

He stilled, realizing my meaning. His eyes lifted, and I felt the strain of his heart over the bond as it ached with mine, remembering how close we’d come to saying goodbye right in the spot he now sat.

He rose and flipped through the journal’s pages as he strolled around the room, occasionally passing close enough that our arms would brush, as if he couldn’t bear more than a few seconds of being apart.

He stopped on a page. “Auralie wrote your name.”

I stared over his shoulder at a note scribbled in my mother’s handwriting in the margins:

Dim—Corîle

got=de

li=?

Luther and I exchanged a glance, wearing matching looks of confusion.

I had seen the note before, but with my mother trapped in a Fortos prison, I’d had no way to ask her what it meant. Now, she was a few minutes’ walk away—not that that had brought us any closer.

“Maybe she knows something that could help you make godstone,” he said.

I avoided his eyes as I turned to slip on my shoes. “Don’t pretend you haven’t already told her that I’m trying to make it. If she could help, she

would have told you.”

“Ask her anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because she loves you, and she wants to be part of your life. And I know that you miss her, even if you refuse to admit it.”

“I’m starting to regret forcing you two to get along.” I tried to pluck the journal from his hands, but he held it tight.

“And because she’s family,” he said. “And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Bellators never give up on their own.”

My insides tangled in an uncomfortable knot. “I’m not ready,” I said quietly.

He closed the book and set it down, then pressed a kiss to my cheek, and we spoke of it no more.

I grabbed my empty scabbard, pretending not to see the creases deepen on his brow as I tied it to my waist. I was grateful he didn’t push me on that, either. Though I was doing a fine job of putting on a happy face and actually meaning it, there were some dark corners I hadn’t fully crawled out from. Perhaps I never would.

Luther tucked me into his side as we left the palace and joined in the merriment. At Eleanor’s begging, I talked him into having a drink, which he only agreed to if I did the same. One drink turned to two, then three, and before long, our eyes were gleaming and glassy, and both our smiles waved like victory banners across our cheeks.

The Ignosians conjured a giant bonfire while a pair of Guardians retrieved simple wood-carved instruments from their tents. Music and drinks flowed freely as the unlikely army danced into the night. I curled up by the fire, warmed by the flames and the ale in my belly, and watched in amusement as Taran poured Lily increasing larger glasses of bubble wine.

Luther glowered nearby, plucking each one from her hands.

“She’s old enough to drink,” Teller complained, flopping down beside me. “Luther should let her have fun.”

“You should go tell him that,” I said. “Men are legendarily reasonable when it comes to other men plying their little sisters with booze.”

He glared; I smirked.

“You two seem better,” he said. “Did you take my advice?”

“I did.” I bumped him with my knee. “Are you going to take it yourself?”

His eyes returned to Lily, who was now holding a full glass in each hand and hotly reprimanding an abashed-looking Luther while Taran looked on and grinned.

“Go steal her away,” I urged. “Take her to the forest and do something scandalous that your very modest, well-behaved older sister would never do.”

He scratched his head. “That doesn’t really leave me many options . . .”

I shot an orb of Meros water at his face. He wiped it away and grinned.

“At least it wasn’t Montios rock.”

“Go,” I said with an encouraging shove.

He nervously climbed to his feet, though his smile fell as he watched Lily across the bonfire, where she had turned to chat with Lana and some other mortal healers.

“Go,” I yelled, “or I’ll use Faunos magic to turn you into a frog.”

“That’s not how Faunos magic wor—”

“May I join you?”

A look of panic flashed between our eyes at the sight of our mother walking up.

I shot to my feet. “Actually, uh, Teller was just leaving, and, um, I have to go see—”

Teller dropped to the ground. “I’m staying. You should go with Diem,

she looks lonely.”

He smirked; I glared.

“Actually,” she said, hurrying to sit beside him, “I was hoping the three of us could talk.”

“Not without Taran,” I rushed out. “He’s part of the family now. He would hate to be left out.”

“Oh, not at all. This was his idea.” She nodded to a spot across the bonfire, where Taran was motioning wildly for me to sit, followed by an animated thumbs-up.

I bit down on my sigh as I reclaimed my seat.

“Look at you,” my mother said to me, her smile warm but faintly wary.

“Never thought I would see my Diem in such a dress.”

My face burned. All the confidence I’d felt earlier vanished like smoke.

I tugged awkwardly at the fabric. “Well, my leathers were dirty, and, um . . . it’s just a silly—”

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. That color suits you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I glanced at Teller, who looked gleeful at my obvious discomfort. My eyes narrowed. “I bet the Princess has some lovely gowns I could borrow. What do you think, Tel? Do you like Lily’s dresses? Do you like the one she’s wearing now, or would you prefer Lily in something . . . less?”

His cheeks flushed as red as a blood sun. I hate you, he mouthed.

“Diem, stop teasing your brother. And Teller, don’t say those words, not even in jest.”

My mother’s scolding tone hauled me back across months and miles— to a little cottage on the marsh, and a loving family of four gathered around a rustic wooden table, laughing and sharing stories of our day.

It was so normal. Like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

I pulled back from her reach. “Was there something you needed to discuss?”

She sighed. “I know you’re both upset with me. You have every right, but we are family. Andrei would want us to end this fight and make up.”

My fists squeezed as I battled another wave of rising barbs, but my temper quelled with one look at my brother. He was watching me, his eyebrows somehow managing to both furrow in fear and rise with hope.

Teller was superior to me in every way that mattered. He was smarter, kinder, calmer, more well-behaved, more practical, easier to trust. But for reasons unknown, whenever the world turned uncertain, it was my reckless, unpredictable voice that he relied on to tell him everything’s going to be

okay.

I wasn’t sure that it would.

I wasn’t sure that it could.

But for him, I had to try.

I drew in a slow, deliberate breath, filling my lungs with the smoky evening air and imagining it as all the resentment swirling around inside me. When I blew it out, I told myself to let go. My mother had her flaws, but she was not selfish. She was not cruel, nor unthinking. She loved us deeply, and everything she’d done was to protect those she cared for.

And war was a dangerous game. Any battle could be my last.

Or hers.

I took her hand and clasped it between mine. “I forgive you, Mother.”

“Oh, Diem,” she breathed. “This is not the life I wanted for you. I prayed that by the time you discovered what you were, the world would be a different place where being mortal or Descended wouldn’t matter. I grieved when I realized I could not give that to you.” She gave a choked laugh, thick with emotion. “I should have known you would simply create that world yourself. I am so very proud.”

I offered her a small but genuine smile. “We’ve all been through enough this past year. Let’s put this behind us.”

“That’s it?” Teller said, glancing between us. “That’s all you both have to say? Nothing more?”

I shrugged at him. “Of course there’s more, but I’m sick of holding grudges. It’s time to move on.”

He balked. “How do we move on from something that’s still happening?”

Mother’s shoulders sank. “Teller, sweetheart—”

“We thought you were dead, Mother. After you disappeared, Father became a shell of himself. He stopped hunting, he barely fished. Diem had to work twice as many hours to make ends meet. She nearly got herself

killed trying to fulfill a bargain that turned out to be another one of your lies. I didn’t get a full night of sleep for months. I nearly failed two classes because I couldn’t focus on anything other than where your dead body might be.”

My mouth popped open. On the surface, Teller had seemed to be relatively fine during our mother’s absence. Worried, but fine. It occurred to me now that, with Father depressed and me unraveling, he might not have felt free to be anything else.

“I’m so sorry,” Mother said. “I should have left a note to explain that I’d gone away.”

“You plotted an attack on the Crowns. What you did with the Guardians put our entire family in danger. Didn’t we deserve to know that, too?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Of course you did.”

Her contrition did little to calm him. He rose to his feet, shouting down at her. “You had an entirely separate life you never told us about. We trusted you with everything, and you never trusted us back. You used me to help Diem instead of letting me make that choice for myself. You risked all our lives, and the only thing you think you should have done differently is leave

a note?”

I bit my lip. He had a point.

“And you,” he snapped, turning to me. “You’re making all the same mistakes she did. You keep secrets from everyone. You risk your life as if your death wouldn’t impact us all. You’re trying to solve the entire world’s problems when the real problem you need to solve is yourself.”

I bristled. He had a point there, too.

“You know there’s more to it,” I protested. “I told you what I learned on the island. That’s not something I can ignore.”

My mother’s shrewd eyes turned to me. “What did you learn on the

island?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

Teller threw up his hands and groaned.

“Your Majesty?” Alixe strode forward, holding a small paper in her hands. “I’m sorry to interrupt. A hawk arrived with a message marked as

urgent.”

I stood. “Was there another attack?”

“I’m not sure. The envelope states that it’s ‘for the Queen’s eyes only.’”

She held the note out. The crisp parchment was edged in pale pink wax and

stamped with the seal of the Sophos Crown—a seal that only I had the rightful authority to use.

“I really should have killed Doriel when I had the chance,” I muttered, ripping it open.

To Her Majesty Qun Diem, I want to first ank you f aowing me to sit in on your council. I was quite inspired. I have taken e liberty of ganizing a similar council here in Sophos, wi equal seats f mtals and Descended. You’ be pleased to know at our first act of business was me equitable standards f ose invited to study.

I worked my jaw. Sophos was the only realm I had not yet visited since my return from the island. It was aggressively annoying to discover that Doriel had actually been a noble steward of it in my absence. Teller leaned in, skimming the words over my shoulder. I was about to crumple the note and tuck it away for another day when my eyes hooked on one word at bottom: Andrei.

I can only pray at you wi fgive me f what I ite next. Befe I left Lumnos, I spoke wi Eim Benette about e knife used to ki Andrei Beat. I asked Eim how it was possible at it could be so similar to e dagger he created f me on behalf of late King Uler.

He reminded me at my High General had placed a weapons der f my Royal Guard some time ago.

Eim had e knives made to complement mine, wi one difference—a blackwood handle. Unftunately, e knives were never received. Accding to Eim, ey were stolen during an attack on his army by e Guardians.

My stomach dropped. The paper trembled in my hand, the words becoming difficult to read.

Beyond at, he had no me details. I hope is infmation wi be helpful to you in finding your faer’s kier. I share your desire at is heinous crime be met wi swift and final justice.

In e Blessed Faer’s wisdom, Diel

The letter tumbled to the ground. The lights and sounds of the camp dimmed to a dull, blurry hiss, and a droning hum filled my ears, like the aftershock of a bomb detonating too close. My eyes took a jerky, disoriented path through the drunken celebrants in search—and stopped on the one person that held the answers I’d sought for so long.

“Henri,” I whispered.

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