Page 124 of Burn of the Everflame

Gods, I’d never loved him more.

I placed a palm across my heart, fearful that the mark on my skin would burn bright enough to blind the room. “I will not,” I said softly.

His lingering gaze was a warm caress. He looked up to address the Houses. “Two families have controlled this realm for centuries. House Corbois used the throne. House Hanoverre used backstabbing and tricks. They are only two—you are eighteen. Together, you can bring this to an end.”

Garath slowly clapped his hands, the sound echoing into the rafters of the quiet room. “A lovely speech, nephew. Truly enlightening. But you’re a little late. They’ve already given their votes.”

“To who?” I asked.

“To me,” Marthe said.

“And to me,” Garath said. “A pact, agreed on by the heads of all Twenty Houses. Sealed with a bonded bargain, so you can never divide us.”

The miserable looks of regret growing across the Houses were enough to confirm. The head of House Amraut rubbed the space between her eyes. “We didn’t give you our votes, Garath. We agreed the Twenty Houses would always vote as one. Decisions must still be made together.”

“Not this decision. Unless you intend to forfeit your magic, the girl goes.” He looked at Zalaric. “So do the mutts.”

Taran launched over the table. Zalaric managed to snag a fistful of tunic and slow him down long enough for Alixe and Luther to drag their cousin back. Garath smirked at his son’s rage, while Aemonn stared blankly at the floor and the Hanoverres chuckled.

“Have you no shame?” my mother yelled at Garath. “What kind of parent delights in their own son’s suffering?”

Garath couldn’t have looked less ashamed. “The kind of parent who doesn’t tolerate a traitor.”

“Then explain him,” Taran shouted, ripping a boot from his foot and hurling it at his brother. Garath jumped to avoid it, but Aemonn didn’t even blink when the shoe struck the table and bounced into his chest.

“You think those muscles fool anyone, boy?” Garath taunted. “You’re weak. You’ve always been weak.” He picked up Taran’s shoe like it was poisoned and tossed it aside. “You’re a constant disappointment. The only thing I’m ashamed of is sharing your name.”

The fight died in Taran’s spirit. He fell still, his only movement the shaky rise and fall of his heaving chest.

“Brother,” Remis warned, but Garath shot him a silencing look that seemed loaded with something more dangerous than sibling disagreement.

Garath sat back into his chair. “I’ve done all I can to fix you, boy. When something is broken beyond repair, you throw it out. From this day on, you’re no longer a Corbois.”

Aemonn’s head sank lower.

“Then he will be a Bellator.” My mother rose and strode to Taran’s side. She took his hand and wrapped it in both of hers, dropping her voice to a murmur. “I have one brave, strong son that I am very proud of. I’d be honored if you would make it two.”

The look on Taran’s face nearly broke me. He looked on the verge of saying no, and I feared it was not because he didn’t want to accept, but because some part of him didn’t believe he deserved it. For as much as he hated Garath, the little boy inside him still craved his father’s love and blamed himself when he did not get it.

Zalaric studied Taran’s hesitance, then let out a theatrical, drawn-out groan. “Thank the gods. I was wondering how I could live with myself if I courted a Corbois.” He visibly shuddered. “A Bellator is a much more impressive catch.”

Taran’s eyes drifted to me. I knew if I spoke, I’d burst into tears, so I gave an encouraging smile. The sound of footsteps brought Teller into view.

“Come on, brother,” he said to Taran. “Sit with me.”

Taran gave a shallow nod. Luther reached to clasp his shoulder, but Taran shoved him off with an anger I didn’t quite understand. Luther looked troubled as he watched Teller lead Taran away to the seats behind my chair.

“If you’re quite done taking in our trash, we have business to conduct,” Garath said.

My temper snapped. I looked around for a sword I could snatch off a guard to slice Garath’s tongue from his mouth, but Zalaric interrupted with a low, menacing laugh.

“The time will come soon when you lose everything, Garath Corbois, and when it does, I want you to remember that this was the day that sealed your fate.”

“Are you threatening me?” Garath snapped.

“If he isn’t, I am,” Luther said.

“So am I,” my mother mumbled.