Page 127 of Burn of the Everflame

Since returning home, it seemed as though I couldn’t go anywhere without a long line of people demanding a piece of my time and ever-present eyes watching every misstep. Only in the shelter of my tent in the Guardians’ camp was I ever truly alone, and only in those dark, lonely hours did I wish that I wasn’t.

After the council meeting ended, it looked like this day would be no different. Eleanor insisted I mingle with the Embers, so I’d turned on my charm, becoming a bright, buoyant version of myself that felt like a stranger wearing my skin. I lingered with the crowd for hours, smiling and playing my part until late in the evening. When the daylight in the palace windows grew azure and dim, I couldn’t take one second more, so I made an excuse and snuck away. I returned to the meeting table, curled up in my chair, and closed my eyes, listening to the murmur of the crowd fade until the last person left.

By all accounts, the meeting had been a success. Eleanor’s brilliant plan had saved the day, and it had given her the confidence to find her voice. Luther had used his reputation with immaculate skill. When he spoke, the entire room listened, and it had changed the tide of a vote more than once. Zalaric had been invaluable, too. His cutting quips had a way of pointing out the absurdity in a person’s reasoning, including to the person themself. Though the Embers had been understandably reluctant to make waves so soon, we managed to persuade the council to put an end to the worst of the mortals’ treatment. By the close of the meeting, the members were negotiating as not-quite-yet-but-encouragingly-close-to equals.

The council was working. The people were leading. This was as good an outcome as I could have hoped for.

So why did I feel so horribly sad?

The sound of the ballroom doors opening punched a hole through the quiet, and all my emotions drained out, leaving me with the hollow coldness I’d come to know so well. By the time my mother appeared, my back was straight and my heart was numb.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” she said. “I told them I saw you in the palace gardens. Thought it might buy you some time.”

She reached for a chair, and I stiffened. Of all the things I was avoiding, she was near the top of the list. She’d always seen right through all my lies. Too bad that was a talent I hadn’t inherited from her.

I started to rise. “I’ll go see what they need.”

“Sit down, Diem.”

I obeyed without thinking, conditioned from years of working under her at the healers’ center. Her stern voice had been my guidelight for so many years.

Now, it filled me with dread.

“The meeting went better than I expected,” she said. “You did very well.”

I looked down at the table, tracing a gnarl in the wood. “I didn’t do much. Just put the right people in the right place and tried to stay out of their way.”

“Sweetheart, that’s what leadership is.” She looked me over. “You know, I thought it would feel strange to see my little girl sit on a throne as Queen.”

“I’m not a little girl, Mother. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“It’s hard for parents to accept their children getting older.” She took a swath of my overskirt and gave it a playful tug. “But it turns out watching you inspire people isn’t strange at all. I’d like to think you learned it from me, but we both know your father deserves the credit.” She was smiling, though her eyes spoke of grief. “How I wish Andrei could see the woman you’ve become.”

I squirmed, internally fleeing from the emotions that threatened to rise. “What do you think of the mortals on the council?”

She leaned back. “Bruno Albanon is a thoughtful man . . . Brant is not. Don’t be fooled by his choice to stay in Lumnos. He’s loyal to Vance. Whatever is said in this room will make its way to the north. As for the two who took the bribes . . . I pray their guilt is enough to keep them from ever doing it again. It’s a powerful motivator. So is forgiveness.”

I mulled over her words. “Thank you for what you did for Taran today.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Garath beat those boys, didn’t he?”

“What makes you say that?” I hedged, nervous what she might do if I confirmed it.

“The way Taran’s brother reacted . . . I’ve seen children like that, who go somewhere else in their minds when their parents are at their worst.”

My nose wrinkled. “There’s no excuse for Aemonn’s silence. He’s not a child anymore.”

“When something traumatic happens to someone at such a young age, sometimes a part of them never quite grows up.”

I thought back to how Taran had looked in those moments after his father’s cruelty, how clearly I could see the hurt little boy he’d been. Then I thought of Aemonn hunched in his chair—a man who was larger than life, trying desperately to make himself small.

And though Aemonn Corbois was the last person I wanted to pity, I couldn’t help wondering, with a weight in my chest, if that was how he’d survived the abuse.

How he was still surviving it.

“Luther did well today, too.”

“Did you just say something nice about Luther Corbois?”