Page 107 of Burn of the Everflame

“Come with me. You deserve to see this.” I marched across the room to a cluster of pink-eyed Descended surrounded by tall stacks of books. I lifted the object I’d retrieved from my room and stabbed it into their table. They jumped back and stared up at me in terror.

“Which one of you can tell me why I found this knife in my father’s chest?” I demanded.

“What?” Teller breathed. He reached for the blade, then abruptly shrank back. “That’s what killed him?”

“No, it isn’t,” Doriel insisted. They rose and stood behind the other Descended’s chairs, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’ve explained to Diem⁠—”

“Her Majesty,” I snapped.

“—to Her Majesty that she is mistaken. No one from my realm had any part in that horrible crime.”

I glowered. “Unlike all your other horrible crimes?”

Teller grabbed my arm. “They’re the ones who murdered Father—you’re sure?”

I could see my brother’s hope begin to surface, mixing with anger and grief. Having blamed himself for Father’s death, he needed the closure of bringing the killers to justice. We both did.

I set my blistering glare on the seated Descended. “You two were at my ball. You insisted on staying in Lumnos for another night.”

“We were at House Benette all day,” one of them said, too scared to even look at me. “Ask them, they’ll tell you!”

“House Benette’s word means even less than yours,” I hissed, though the silence of my Umbros magic had a knot forming in my stomach. “You knew about my family. You threatened my brother.”

Doriel looked offended. “Inviting him to study alongside the smartest minds in Emarion is hardly a thr⁠—”

Books and bodies went flying as an irate pulse of my aura shot through the room. Doriel slammed into a bookshelf that gave a precarious wobble.

“Apparently not smart enough to know when to shut their mouths,” I sniped.

“Doriel, move!”

Obaneryn sailed past me, gold and turquoise beads clinking in his locs. He shoved Doriel to safety as the bookshelf toppled on its side—but not in time to escape it himself. Obaneryn disappeared under an avalanche of heavy tomes and the ominous thud of the heavy wooden shelf.

“Obie!” Doriel screamed.

“The books!” their kinsmen cried, sounding equally aghast.

Together they ran to the rubble, Doriel hurling books over their shoulder, the other Sophos Descended tenderly picking them up. Doriel wedged their shoulder beneath the massive shelf and strained to lift it, but their delicate frame was no match for its weight.

“Help me,” they pleaded.

I crossed my arms and glared.

Tears sprang to Doriel’s eyes. “Obaneryn never wanted to leave you on the island. He only did it for me. Punish me, not him.”

“Maybe I’ll punish you both.”

“Diem,” Teller said quietly.

“What?” I snapped at my brother. “They buried me alive on that island. Why shouldn’t I do the same?” I shrugged. “I’ve earned a little revenge.”

“Since when do you care about revenge?” he asked, jogging forward to help Doriel. “Forget the books,” he yelled at the others. “Come help.”

The Sophos Descended watched me warily as they crept forward to join Teller and Doriel. The four of them grunted with effort, but the bookshelf would not lift an inch. Doriel collapsed to their knees, crying out Obaneryn’s name. Teller’s eyes cut back to me with a plea.

Revenge is not justice.

There was nothing worse than being shamed by one’s own words.