Page 10 of Burn of the Everflame

“They want the Guardians to be their army instead,” he finished.

We shared a knowing look. Working with Diem had been a hard enough sell to the mortals. Auralie had assured them that Diem was a Guardian herself, and that her loyalty was to the Guardians’ goals. Not everyone was convinced. Every week, faces disappeared from camp, some to return home to wait out the results of Vance and Ophiucae’s murderous crusade—and others to join it, their hatred of Descended outweighing their faith in Auralie and her plan.

The camp fell silent as muffled shouting arose from the tent. Several leaned closer to hear, many exchanging loaded glances. The solidarity Auralie and Cordellia had so carefully built was crumbling in an instant.

I rose and strode toward the tent. One of Cordellia’s guards sidestepped to block my path. “This conversation is not for you,” he barked.

“I only want to warn them their voices have carried.”

“I don’t care what you want, Descended,” he shot back, spitting the word like a swear. “You’re lucky we let you stay in this camp at all.”

As I opened my mouth to snap a response, Diem’s voice broke through my thoughts.

Careful, Prince, she scolded. Don’t you want to show him Descended can be better than the monsters he’s known?

“Perhaps you might let them know I wish to speak with them, and they can decide,” I gritted out, jaw clenched.

The man smirked. “How does it feel to be on the bottom for a change? Do you like having to beg to be heard?”

My anger cooled. This wasn’t about me—this was a man who had spent his life being choked by Descended hands, finally finding his voice.

“It is not a good feeling,” I admitted. “You mortals should never have been forced to live that way. My Queen and I wish to ensure you never do again.”

He straightened, clearly not expecting my response.

“Just let him through,” another voice droned, this time from a woman I knew to be one of Cordellia’s top advisors. “They don’t need you to decide who they can and can’t talk to, Pabrick.”

I nodded to her in thanks.

The man puffed out his chest in stubborn refusal. “We don’t recognize Descended Queens. Just because we follow Auralie doesn’t mean we’ll ever kneel to your fraud cun⁠—”

His words strangled as my hand closed around his throat. I lifted him in the air, his feet dangling beneath him.

“Go on,” I growled. “Finish that sentence.”

A chorus rang out with the hiss of weapons unsheathing and bowstrings pulling taut. The sharp point of a blade pressed to the back of my neck.

“Put him down,” the woman warned from behind me.

My godhood sizzled beneath my skin, sensing the threat and the insult to Diem, eager to avenge them both. It had been more than a month since I’d used my magic for anything other than crafting illusions. It craved violence, and so did I.

Again, Diem tutted in my thoughts. All the work you’ve done to build trust here, lost over a single word. Where will I find my army now?

I tossed the man in a heap at my feet. Perhaps I was the monster the rebels believed me to be.

I stepped over him toward the tent, throwing the flap open and slipping inside. Cordellia shot me one look and threw up her hands. “Wonderful,” she muttered. “Now I have two people to convince that we should not hinge our decision on one girl’s freedom.”

“This is not about Diem,” Auralie argued.

“Of course it is. She’s your daughter, Auralie. You think I don’t understand? Me, of all people?”

Auralie winced. “Dell . . .”

“I pray to the Old Gods every day for your daughter’s safety. No mother should suffer a loss like I did. But no person’s life is worth our people’s future. The Crowns are offering to hear our demands. We cannot turn this down.”

“It will come at a cost,” I warned. “The Crowns will expect the Guardians to take on Ophiucae.”

“We always planned to fight. If we can get what we want from the Crowns by killing one Descended, is that not a victory in itself?”