Page 123 of Burn of the Everflame

The guards stared at each other, then at Alixe, unsure how to proceed. One started hesitantly toward me, then stumbled back when Luther eyed him with a snarl.

“As our next matter, I nominate Garath Corbois as Chief of Council,” Marthe said. “His expertise as Warden to late King Ulther will serve us all well.”

Garath made a show of looking shocked. His terrible acting fooled no one. He and Marthe had planned every step of this together.

“I would be honored to serve my realm, Marthe, but only with you as my fellow⁠—”

“Three votes,” Luther’s voice boomed behind me. His timbre was so laced with dominance, every head turned like trained dogs on command. “It appears the mortals have mastered basic math, but the Houses have not. Only three votes have been cast in your favor, Marthe. Three, not eight. The Houses have not yet had their say. There are some things they should know before they do.”

“Luther, what are you doing?” I whispered.

“Keeping a promise.” He placed a hand on my side, thumb grazing a searing line across my bare ribs as he nudged me back into my seat.

He seemed to tower ten heads high as he held the room captive. No one dared to utter a word, even as he took his time staring down each House in turn.

That’s what a Crown should be, I thought as I watched him. My heart tumbled with emotions, not all of which I was proud to admit.

They feared Luther. They respected him, too. He’d been groomed to lead, and they’d been groomed to submit. His inheritance of the throne had gone unquestioned for almost as long as he’d been alive. He might not have been fated to wear the Lumnos Crown, but he was born to be a King.

Luther clasped his hands behind his back. “Most of you are aware that, for many years, Iléana Hanoverre and I were . . .” He worked his jaw. “ . . . betrothed.”

Iléana smirked at me. My magic-suppressing cuffs twitched with another crack.

“In that time,” he went on, “she shared with me many of House Hanoverre’s most closely guarded secrets. I think it’s time those secrets see the light of day.”

Iléana’s amusement drained along with the color in her face. Marthe whacked her with her cane. “You stupid girl,” she hissed, “what have you done?”

Luther leaned forward and set his hands on the table. “House Althiena, were you aware that Marthe personally blocked every trade deal you sought because she feared your House might grow stronger than hers?”

At the Althiena table, the wiry eyebrows of its elderly patriarch drew low. His angry stare drifted to Marthe, who silently pursed her lips.

“House Teniers,” Luther said, “let’s not forget the fleas she released in your homes after you received a royal appointment she wanted for herself.”

The woman at the Teniers table screeched. “Marthe, we were itching for weeks!”

“House Ghislaine,” Luther went on, “did you notice that the dressmakers stopped accepting your visits? Turns out one of your daughters didn’t curtsey low enough for Marthe’s satisfaction.” He rumbled a laugh. “One of her pettier moves. But not as childish as when she paid a chef at House Amraut to cook a special dinner that sent the entire family running to their toilets to—well . . . a gentleman shouldn’t speak of such things.”

Faces paled at a table to the left, then flushed bright red as the other Houses tittered with laughter. Luther went on—and on and on and on—sharing story after story of Marthe’s scheming and acts of revenge.

Not a single House was spared. Even House Corbois had been a target, causing Garath to silently seethe. With each revelation, Iléana sank further into her chair, while Marthe looked steely and unashamed, though her white-knuckled hands gave her away.

“What do you think, Marthe,” Luther asked, “have they heard enough?”

Her eyes crinkled as they narrowed to daggers.

Luther smiled coldly. “Perhaps Evrim Benette would like to learn how his beloved mother really died.”

Gasps sucked the air from the room. A chill crept up my spine at the blackened, boiling rage in Evrim’s eyes.

“Luther,” Iléana choked. “Stop.”

“I warned you, Iléana. I told you at the Ascension Ball that if your family came for Diem, I would make it their end. Do not doubt my loyalty to my Queen ever again.”

“I—I know s-secrets, too,” she sputtered. “You defied King Ulther. Y-you snuck into Mortal City. Gave them medicines they’re not allowed to have. And . . . and . . . you changed the tax rolls. You made it look like some families paid when they hadn’t.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I don’t think you even executed those half-mortal children!”

Her eyes darted around the room for allies that weren’t there. Most Descended were still reeling from the news of Marthe’s antics, while the mortals stared at Luther with newfound appreciation. Even Taran and Alixe looked pleasantly surprised.

“You’re right,” Luther said. “Every word of that is true.” His eyes dropped to me. “Will my Queen condemn me for it?”