Burn of the Everflame

Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 7

LUTHER

’d walked the road to the palace a thousand times, always with the smallI comfort of returning to the familiar. I hadn’t felt safe there in a very long time—not since I watched my father slay my mortal mother in the bedroom I’d hidden her away in—but at least it had always been home.

Today, it felt neither safe nor familiar. My home was miles away, trapped on an island in the middle of the sea.

I kept a step behind Auralie, lined up shoulder to shoulder with Cordellia and the other rebel leaders who had joined us from Montios, Meros, and Fortos. Though the Guardians had balked at my apparent promotion, Auralie had decided that my presence would make the Crowns think twice before attempting any kind of trick.

To emphasize that point, I let a ripple of light magic sparkle in a ring around our contingent, an outward sign to all who watched that these people

were mine to protect.

And there were many, many watching.

The residents of Lumnos City had gathered along the roads to gawk at our dramatic arrival. A sparse contingent of guards had been posted, though I wasn’t sure which side of their line they were meant to be protecting.

The crowd was unusually quiet. Their twisted scowls and narrowed eyes spoke their displeasure, and it was directed primarily at me. No longer was I the perfect son of Lumnos, the unimpeachable Prince.

I kept my expression stony as ever, though inside I cringed at how my presence among the Guardians inadvertently bolstered the Crowns’ lies about Diem. I wondered if I’d made a mistake by not returning sooner.

Unlike at the docks, the military presence at the palace was significant.

Soldiers lined the ivy-coated wall that surrounded the grounds with a second perimeter at the palace itself. Archers crouched on the roof and behind balustrades on every balcony. Including, to my irritation, Diem’s rooms.

Sorae wasn’t happy with it, either. She let out a piercing shriek as she swooped across the front facade.

“I suggest you tell your guards to leave the royal suite,” I yelled to Alixe, who rode ahead of us on horseback, “or their day is going to become a good deal hotter.”

“They’re Emarion Army soldiers,” she called back. “They are not mine to command.”

“You’re the High General of the Fortos Queen, are you not?”

She brought her horse to a sudden stop, then turned around to face me.

“The rumors are true? Diem wears the Fortos Crown?”

Murmurs rippled through the soldiers. “Fortos does not have Queens,” a red-eyed man said, emerging from the throng. “Diem Corbois is an imposter.”

“Diem Bellator,” Auralie and I said in unison. We exchanged a look.

“Whatever her name is, we don’t recognize her Crown.” He sneered.

“She’ll answer to the Kindred for her thievery. Until then, as Vice General, I’m the ranking officer of Fortos.”

Sorae unleashed a plume of sapphire flame across the palace. Shouts rose from the royal terrace, and two charred bodies tumbled over the railing and thumped to the ground.

“Well then, Vice General,” I said dryly, “my condolences on your loss.”

His face turned as scarlet as his eyes. “You broke the cease-fire!”

“We did no such thing,” Auralie cut in. “You may not recognize my daughter as Queen, but that creature does. We can no more call off its attacks than you can.”

“And it seems she does not like soldiers in her Queen’s chambers,” I added.

The Vice General looked at Alixe, who wisely did nothing more than arch a brow. He muttered something to another soldier, who took off running inside. Moments later, the remaining archers withdrew from the royal terrace. Sorae set down on her perch hard enough to send an avalanche of pebbles raining down the palace walls.

Cordellia edged toward me, looking around with uneasy eyes. “If the Crowns are here, shouldn’t their gryverns be, too?”

“Likely hiding nearby,” I said quietly. “The Crowns don’t like the gryverns to interact.”

I thought of what Diem had told me about Tybold, the Ignios gryvern, being Sorae’s long-lost love. Diem had made her a promise on our behalf to find a way to reunite them. If my theory about Diem taking a fifth Crown was correct, all it would take was a dead Ignios King.

And as it so happened, he and I had unfinished business.

I glanced up at Sorae, who stared off into the trees. Don’t worry, girl, I thought grimly. I’ll keep our promise.

Her eyes swung back to me, her head tilting slightly.

“The meeting will begin at midday,” Alixe said. She gestured inside. “If you’d like a chance to freshen up—”

“No need,” Auralie said. “We’ll prepare our camp.” She pointed to a field north of the palace. “I understand there’s empty land this way, with a nearby stream?”

Alixe shot me a hard stare. The field in question was fortified with a magical barrier that even dragonfyre couldn’t pierce. It was a tool for training the Royal Guard—and a nightmare for housing royal enemies.

It was also a highly guarded secret. The only way Auralie could have known it existed was from me.

The problem was . . . I’d never told her.

I returned Alixe’s glare, giving no sign that I was as surprised by this as she was. A vein twitched along her temple. “Very well.”

“We’ll also be setting up our own patrols, both inside and outside the palace gates,” Auralie said. “Do I have your word they’ll be undisturbed?”

Alixe tensed. “That’s quite unnecessary. Under the terms of the cease- fire—”

“I know the terms. I also know the Crowns.” Auralie smirked. “We’ll keep our own patrols.”

FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS, the Guardians set up camp in their efficient, systematic way. We had no way of knowing how long negotiations might last, but the Crowns would not want to be separated from their realms for long, especially at wartime. The more settled in we appeared, the stronger a message it sent: We can afford to wait. Can you?

When the tents were up, the campfires were lit, and the first Guardian patrols had made their rounds, Alixe returned to escort us inside. Two cell leaders stayed behind at camp, and another stayed with the ships to keep them ready in case we needed to flee, so only Auralie, Cordellia, and myself set off to attend.

Teller came running behind us. “I want to hear what the Crowns have to say about Diem.”

“This meeting is for Guardians,” Auralie said. “You’ve made very clear you want no part of the rebellion.”

“Luther’s going,” he fired back. “He’s not a Guardian.”

“Yes, I am.”

I was as surprised as anyone to hear my admission. I’d been working alongside them for weeks, but always separate, always an other. And yet, I’d been fighting in secret for years—working against the Crowns, undermining their laws, intervening to save mortal and half-mortal lives.

What did that make me, if not a rebel myself?

“Auralie,” Cordellia warned her, “if you walk in there as Diem’s mother, with her brother and her”—she waved a hand at me—“whatever he is, it will send the message that we’ve only come for her.”

“Is that so bad?” Auralie asked. “Imagine what they might offer us to leave her where she is.”

She said it so plainly, I started to think she might be willing to sacrifice Diem after all. And so did Teller—the ire in his glare was scorching.

Cordellia looked less convinced. Her tone turned sharp. “You swore this wasn’t about her.”

Auralie met Cordellia’s simmering stare without speaking. A moment later, she sighed and turned to Teller. “I’m sorry, my little scholar. You can’t.”

“I’m not a scholar,” he sniped. “Not anymore. I’m not little, either. And I’m not yours.” Auralie flinched as he barreled on. “That palace is the only home I have left. Keep me out of the meeting if you want, but I’m not staying in your camp one minute longer.”

He marched for the palace, flying past a bewildered Alixe. I set off in his wake as the two mortal women followed behind.

Alixe joined my side. “Is Teller alright? I don’t think I’ve ever heard

him raise his voice before.”

“He’s fine.”

Her mouth pinched at my curtness. “Lily will be happy to see you. Your father tried to persuade her into a betrothal to Lorris Benette. I think it was Remis’s attempt at a compromise—a few more years to do as she pleases until the boy comes of age. You’ll be happy to know she refused. She says she will not marry without Her Majesty’s consent.”

A surge of pride raced through me. My sister had never denied our father before. She had taken the wrong lessons from my example, determined to serve our family in whatever way she could—a selflessness Father had been happy to exploit.

But Lily was also keenly perceptive. If she conditioned my father’s request on Diem’s approval, she must have suspected that my father had the power to bring Diem home.

“The half-mortal children?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Safe,” she answered. “Your father kept his word to halt all executions.”

“Mortal City?”

“A few skirmishes. Nothing serious.”

“Zalaric?”

“Doing well. Taran convinced him to lay low until you and Diem returned.” She smirked. “Taran put Zalaric’s bed in his suite so he can keep watch. Zal complains about it daily, but when I offered him his own room, he declined.”

I almost smiled. In the midst of all this misery, there was at least one shining, beautiful thing. My closest friend had given his heart away, and at

last he’d received one in return.

“Is Diem safe?” Alixe asked quietly.

My warmth chilled to frost. “She is not.”

My godhood’s chanting picked up volume—Find her. Free her. Save her. Touch her.—and magic twined in restless tendrils at my palms.

Alixe tensed and put a few steps of distance between us. We said nothing more until we reached the palace.

If the number of guards hadn’t alerted me to the Crowns, the auras would have. The presence of magic was thick enough to choke on and laced

with bitter, malicious energy. The few times I’d been in the presence of several strong Descended in the past, I’d been able to feel the blurry edges where one aura ended and another began, but this was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. The air itself seemed to quiver with a single, impossibly powerful force.

I put a hand on Teller’s shoulder and held him back so Auralie could lead us inside the palace, followed by Cordellia. “If the Crowns sense a rift, they’ll pounce,” I said in his ear. “Don’t give them a reason to be in your life any more than they already are.”

He grumbled, but he steeled his face and obeyed.

A welcoming party of the most miserable sort was waiting to greet us: Doriel, Crown of Sophos, whose betrayal had cost Diem her freedom and Perthe his life. Mireille, Queen of Arboros, whose cowardice made it all possible. Ailani, Queen of Faunos, who looked like she wanted to be there even less than I did. Obaneryn, King of Meros, whose affable, charming smile I wanted to scorch right off his face.

And my father, Remis Corbois, whose crimes were so numerous I hardly knew where to start.

I ignored them all. I looked only at their hands, searching for twitching fingers, rolling wrists, or any other sign of conjured magic.

“You must be Auralie Bellator,” Doriel said smoothly, stepping forward and extending a hand. Their soft, androgynous features, slender build, and elegant cream-and-salmon suit gave them an innocuous air, though the ominous light cast by the circle of crackling sparks above their shaven head felt better suited to the devil I knew them to be.

Auralie glanced at Doriel’s hand, then back up, saying nothing.

Doriel held their stance—a foolish error, trying to wait out a Bellator.

Auralie would age and rot to dust where she stood before she’d back down to a Crown.

“I trust your journey was pleasant?” Doriel asked. “No issues?”

“None at all,” she answered. “The ships we liberated from Meros got us here in no time.”

The Meros King’s smile disappeared. The Faunos and Arboros Queens shared a look.

By now, I’d learned many of Auralie’s methods. This was not the flippant antagonizing it appeared to be. This was a calculated test of the

cease-fire, a heavy stomp on its center to see how much weight it could hold.

Obaneryn stepped forward. “Those ships belong to me.”

Auralie advanced as well, unbothered. “They were built by mortal hands. Paid for by mortal taxes. Manned by mortal crews.” She smiled.

“Now they serve mortal captains.”

“I treat mortals fairly in my realm,” he argued. “They live and work as

equals.”

Cordellia snorted.

“Is that so?” Auralie asked. “Then you must have an equal number of

mortals as your advisors.”

His mouth clicked shut.

“Equal number of mortal captains in your fleet?”

“Mortals cannot be captains. They do not control the winds and tides as my people do.”

“Are the mortals not ‘your people’?” I cut in.

He shot me a look that seemed to ask the question burning on every Descended tongue in Lumnos: You’re one of us. Why are you acting like one of them?

But it was the Sophos Crown’s reaction that caught my focus. Color had drained from Doriel’s alabaster skin, their rose eyes wide and round. They seemed to have just now taken note of my presence.

The last time we’d seen each other, Doriel had slammed the Sophos border back down on my godhood as they sped away on a boat with Diem, leaving me on the shore without my magic. When Teller and Perthe showed up soon after, bound and gagged by a group of soldiers, I realized Doriel had betrayed us. Perthe was able to fight his way free, but we were too outnumbered to keep them from taking Teller. The best we could do was steal a boat and make our pursuit—a rescue attempt that went horribly wrong.

Doriel’s eyes slipped over my shoulder to Teller, the boy they’d left on the island to die, and grew even larger.

The Arboros Queen cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should move to the meeting room?”

“A wise idea,” Auralie answered. She glanced at the Faunos Queen.

“Ailani, why don’t you lead the way?”

Another test. Of all the Crowns, the most likely to break the cease-fire were the ruthless Faunos and Ignios Crowns, the latter of whom was curiously missing.

Ailani’s yellow eyes shrunk to slits. “How dare you use my name?” Her sharpened, claw-like nails curled at her side. “I’m ‘Her Majesty’ to you.”

Auralie shrugged. “Then I’m ‘Her Majesty’ to you. My people ruled this land before yours arrived.”

“And then my people conquered yours. The strongest deserve to rule.

That’s nature’s way.”

“Then I should swear my loyalty to Ophiucae. He’s the strongest among

you, is he not?”

The foyer fell deadly silent.

“We can use the names of our realms, as we do on the island,” the Arboros Queen offered, her eyes bouncing nervously around the Crowns.

“Will that suffice?”

Sophos nodded quickly, still looking pale, joined by a fuming Meros.

Faunos gave an irritated shrug.

Arboros turned her hopeful gaze to Auralie, who stood in statuesque silence long enough that I wondered if she might push the Crowns too far, but she eventually nodded.

“Leave your blades,” the Fortos Vice General barked. He eyed the sword strapped to my back. “No weapons in the meeting room.”

“Will the Crowns be taking flameroot, then?” Auralie asked.

Again, the group went quiet. “You know about the flameroot?” Meros asked.

“I know even more about it than you.” She pointed a thumb at the door.

“Shall I fetch some from my camp’s supply? We’ve got plenty to spare.”

Faces blanched around the room. Knowledge of flameroot was highly guarded, even among Descended. I only learned of its existence while handling my late uncle’s letters after he fell ill. For the Crowns to discover that the rebels not only knew of it, but had their own stockpile . . .

Doriel let out a nervous noise that sounded half like a laugh, half like a whimper. “Let them keep their weapons. A sign of mutual trust.” They gave another pained smile and motioned for everyone to follow.

The mortals and I held still, forcing the Crowns to lead and give us their backs. My father hovered nearby and watched. On the surface, he was composed, confident, the faultless diplomat—but even his staunch self-

control couldn’t hide the circles beneath his eyes, nor the agitated flexing of his jaw.

Auralie and Cordellia breezed past him without acknowledgment. When I moved to do the same, he reached for my arm.

“Luther!”

A voice—light, feminine, and not my father’s—trilled through the hall.

I turned to see a blur of saffron skirts and short, glossy curls fly across the foyer and collide with my chest.

“Lilian,” my father whispered sharply. “I told you to stay away.”

“Why didn’t you write?” Lily asked me between sniffles. “I was so worried.”

A heavy weight eased from my heart as I looped my arms around my sister and squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t be certain who might

read it before it reached you.”

My father scoffed.

Lily gazed up at me. “You have a beard.”

I tugged at a curl bouncing just above her shoulder. “You cut your hair.”

She grinned. “I did it myself! Well, Eleanor helped. She thought I might need a change after . . .” Her smile wobbled. “After everything.”

“Lumnos’s twat, it’s really him.”

I barely nudged Lily to safety before Taran crushed me in his grip.

“Cousin,” I grunted.

Though it sounded gruff, that had always been our way. Taran needed my steadiness to calm his troubled spirit; I needed his heart to keep warmth in mine.

“You gods-damned asshole,” he shouted, thumping me in the chest.

“Where in the nine realms have you been?”

“You’re back!” Eleanor exclaimed, jogging forward. She burrowed under Taran’s arm to wrap me in a hug I was glad to return.

Over her shoulder, Zalaric stood a short distance away. Despite his typical reserve, he offered a smile, and I returned it.

I’d always been a private person, keeping distance as a rule, so it surprised me how much comfort it gave me to see them all again. If only the woman responsible for opening my heart was here to fill it, too.

“It’s such a relief to have you home,” Eleanor gushed. “Things here

have been, um . . . difficult.”

“Fucking miserable,” Taran mumbled.

“Of course we all knew you and Diem must have had your reasons for staying away,” Eleanor insisted. She frowned and looked around. “Where is Her Maj—oh, Teller, you’re back from Sophos!”

Lily stiffened. She and Teller connected eyes, and the rest of us

awkwardly watched.

“Hi, Lily,” Teller said quietly.

Her fingers brushed her lips as if he’d kissed her rather than offered a simple hello.

His gaze dropped, then rose again. “You look lovely. Your hair . . . it’s nice. It suits you.”

Her bottom lip gave the smallest tremble before she locked it away.

“Hello,” she clipped, then turned her focus back to me. “Where is Diem? Is

she with the other Crowns?”

Find her, my godhood snarled. FIND HER.

Its insistent flare pulsed out unbidden, and the others flinched as they

felt the echoes of its wrath.

“She isn’t here,” I gritted out.

“Why not?” my father cut in.

If my glare could slice, he would lay in slivers. With heavy, menacing steps, I strode to him until we stood nose to nose.

My entire life, he’d towered over me—in authority, if not in stature. He had punished me, threatened me, manipulated me. When my influence with the King outgrew his, he expanded his arsenal, dangling the people I cared for in harm’s way to keep me under his thumb. He’d been the unscalable

wall I could never escape.

Funny, how he seemed so small now.

“You dare ask me that?” I growled. I tapped the jeweled handle that rose over my shoulder. “You’re lucky the terms of the meeting prevent me from using this.”

Confusion flashed across his face—then indignation. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this situation has become? I’ve gone to great lengths to protect you both.”

I seized the hilt and withdrew it an inch. “One more lie, and even the cease-fire won’t save you.”

“Luther,” Auralie called out. She shook her head. “He’s cost you enough.”

I slammed the sword back into its scabbard, the clang of metal reverberating down the hall.

I clasped Taran’s wrist and lowered my voice. “Take Teller and Lily to the royal suite. If something goes wrong, put them on Sorae. She’ll get them somewhere safe.”

He squeezed my arm and nodded. “What about Perthe—is he back, as well?”

I swallowed, guilt choking my response. Taran looked at Teller, who was equally mute. He and I had never discussed what happened to Perthe on the island. We both had his blood on our hands, and we both knew that nothing would ever remove it.

I gave a silent shake of my head. Taran’s eyes darkened in understanding. “I’ll protect them,” he vowed.

The mention of Perthe had taken the fight out of Teller. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and trudged toward the foyer.

Lily tugged at her curls, looking as if she was struggling not to watch him. “Talk to him,” I whispered in her ear.

I would push her no more than that. That journey was their own, and Lily deserved to be fought for. Eleanor slid a supportive arm around her and started to lead her away.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked Eleanor. “You’re the Regent of Lumnos.”

Her eyes jumped between me and my father. “Um, I . . .”

“I am the Regent of Lumnos,” he said. “Until Her Majesty returns and confirms her appoint—”

“Well?” I said loudly, ignoring him. I held out my elbow to Eleanor.

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, and she slowly let go of Lily, taking my arm. I escorted her past my father, who scowled and stalked behind us. “Be brave, cousin,” I murmured to Eleanor. “Your Queen needs you now more than ever.”

She stood straighter and rolled her shoulders back. “I will,” she promised.

When we approached the meeting room, a foul smell was waiting to greet us. It reeked of ruin and rot, and it felt unsettlingly familiar.

Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

Inside, the stench was joined by cloying perfumes and clouds of incense. Tables along the walls were laden with every sweet-smelling

flower in the realm, and still the air was so putrid, I could hardly draw a breath.

The Crowns had already taken their seats in elaborate thrones crafted of Lumnos cedar, each carved with the sigil of their respective realms. The Fortos, Lumnos, and Montios thrones were empty. So was the throne of Umbros.

The Ignios throne was not. Its King slumped against it, back to the door, hidden from my sight.

In simpler chairs placed near each one, I recognized several other Regents and High Generals. I led Eleanor to one such seat, strategically placed between the thrones of Lumnos and Montios.

“Who is she?” the Fortos Vice General demanded.

“The Regent of this realm,” I answered calmly.

“So she claims,” my father rushed out. “Until Her Majesty confirms it, the position remains with me.”

Faunos rolled her eyes. “He’s the only Regent we recognize, Prince.”

“She is the only one we recognize,” Auralie said. “So it seems we’re at an impasse.”

I shot her a grateful nod as the Crowns crowded around the Ignios throne, trading frowns and whispers. “We cannot seat two Regents of Lumnos,” I heard one of them mumble.

“Then let Eleanor sit as the Regent of Montios,” I called out. “Or Fortos.” I smiled coldly. “Or Umbros.”

I took careful note of the reactions that followed. The Crowns looked uneasy—but unsurprised. The Fortos Vice General’s sneer also showed no sign of shock.

My father, however . . . he, Alixe, and Eleanor wore mirrored looks of stupor.

It seemed the Crowns had been keeping more secrets.

Without awaiting their response, I left Eleanor and walked to the seat on Auralie’s left. I gave deep bows to her, then to Cordellia, and awaited their acknowledgment before taking my seat. Such theater of formality was comical for the Guardians, but to the Crowns, it was a message in a language they would understand.

Finally, my attention turned to the burnt orange gaze of the Ignios King.

What I saw wasn’t the fiery tyrant I’d battled on the beach—what I saw was barely human. He seemed to have shrunk half in size, his limbs propped

limply on large cushions, stick-thin where his muscles had been eaten away beneath sagging, papery skin. Blackened skin.

Nearly every inch of him was covered in thick tangles of dark, pulsating swirls. Only a few patches of flesh peeked through, but even those had gone greyish and ashy. The onyx veins had even crept into his eyes, turning the whites to a murky yellow-black.

It took me a moment to understand. Another moment to acknowledge where the foul smell had come from, and why it had set my memory

writhing.

Godstone.

The Ignios King was not dead—but very soon, he would be.

I had not laughed often in my life. In my entire adulthood, I could count the number of times I had lost myself to uncontrollable laughter on one

hand, with fingers to spare.

Today, I laughed.

Loudly.

Joyously.

“You’ll burn for this,” Ignios hissed. No, croaked. His voice was as tainted as his body, reduced to a crackly rasp.

Tears formed in the crinkled corners of my eyes as my laughter grew.

“Prince,” Arboros scolded. “Godstone poisoning is a grave matter.”