“Can the flame of a goddess be extinguished by mortal magic?” Eira asked.
Taavin was the one to answer. “No. An immortal flame cannot be extinguished by mortal magic.”
“Good,” Eira said, mostly to herself.
While they had been talking, her magic had seeped into the feet of each of the Pillars, her chill soaking into their flesh. Without them realizing, she’d been lowering their internal body temperatures. The brief discussion and showmanship bought her enough time to catch them off guard so they would not notice how her frosty clutches were wrapping around them.
Slowly balling her hands into fists, Eira condensed her magic on them. She watched as they went as rigid as the first Pillar she’d chased from the Archives. They were held in a cold stasis, unable to move as Eira slowly approached, careful not to move too quickly or else she’d risk their escape. Ferro wasn’t the only one who had powers that could turn people into living statues.
For too long she’d been trying to hide her magic—be it from the command of her uncles, or fear of herself. But Eira was done hiding. She had killed her hesitation when she had finally taken Ferro’s life. So what if she was Adela’s daughter? She held power and she was tired of concealing just how much. She would never doubt again and she would make sure no one else did, either.
Eira pried the blade from the man’s icy fingers. She closed her hand around the golden dagger. It bit into her flesh, blood running down the hilt. But there was no heat.
Her guess had been correct. Deneya mentioning how the brazier in the Archives had held a fake flame for years had stuck out to Eira. That fake flame would’ve been burning when Ulvarth had been in control. Why wouldn’t he resort to the same tactics again? Especially since most people hadn’t known about his previous lies.
“It’s nothing more than an illusion.” Eira condensed her magic around the blade, tighter and tighter, until it was a solid block of ice that she threw toward Taavin’s feet. “Voice of Yargen, am I wrong?”
Taavin approached the dagger. The fire had gone out as it slid across the floor. “As I suspected, it was not the Flame of Yargen.”
Lumeria took a step toward the top of the dais where the thrones were perched. “Enough of this theater. Knights, arrest these men.”
As the queen’s knights moved to apprehend the Pillars, whispering cut the silence, barely audible over the clank of armor. But the one phrase Eira did hear was, “She extinguished the Flame of Yargen.” Eira forced herself to ignore the bitter note in the woman’s voice and focused on the Pillars being arrested. Without Ferro and whatever glyph he’d used, the knights made quick work of overpowering the zealots. But the Pillars didn’t put up much of a fight. They all stared at her with their haunted eyes and eerie smiles.
“He will come,” the man who’d wielded the dagger said. He looked at Eira, but his voice echoed, reverberating into the bones of everyone gathered. “The Champion will return and he will destroy evil’s spawn, like you.”
“You are nothing more than usurpers,” Lumeria said in her powerful, whispering tones. “Get them out of my sight.”
The knights escorted the Pillars out the main door, and Eira wondered where they would be taken. There was no hole deep and dark enough for them. There wasn’t a cell secure enough. If Ulvarth could escape, then anyone could.
“As for you, Eira Landan.”
Her spine went rigid and Eira turned to face the Queen of Meru.
“Knights, please escort her somewhere that we can properly attend her.”
A man stepped forward and gave Eira a salute by bringing his fist to the center of his chest. “If you’ll follow me.”
Eira did as she was told. She was too tired to object. Her head was so full it was hurting. As she left the room, she felt the weight of over a hundred eyes on her. The murmurs of the nobles gathered was the spark for wildfires of gossip that would burn for months to come.
* * *
The rest of the night was a blur. Eira’s focus tunneled on the strangest of things. She remembered the delicate filigree on the spigot of the castle tub she bathed in. She remembered the duvet, as red as Ferro’s blood, in what she’d assumed to be the room of a lady-in-waiting, repurposed for her. All these little details, like the lone black thread dangling out of the hem of the plain gown she was given, stuck out to her.
But Eira couldn’t recall the names or faces of the people who attended her or the knights who questioned her. She knew that Deneya wasn’t among them. Nor were any other shadows she recognized. But, most of the other shadows were dead now, weren’t they?
The details of how she got back from the castle to the manor were also hazy. There was a carriage involved, and a brigade of knights. Slipping out a back door… It all vanished in the hours that followed, muted by the memories of Ferro’s screams. The final taunt he’d given her.
Only the beginning.
She’d wanted to play the Pillars for fools and, yet, at the end of it all, what had she accomplished? Ferro was dead…but he’d won because she killed him. Was Marcus avenged? Or had she forever lost that chance? She’d proved the Flame of Yargen wasn’t real. That was something, wasn’t it? It had to be. She needed it to be, desperately.
Eira returned to her body somewhere between entering the manor and the knight opening the door to the Solaris quarters. She could feel again when Alyss threw her arms around her. Eira’s cheek was wet. Was she crying? Oh, no, Alyss was.
“It’s all right, Alyss.” Eira patted her back.
“You shouldn’t be saying that to me, I should be saying that to you.” Alyss pulled away, wiping her nose. “You have to stop worrying me like this.”
“Sorry.”
