Page 148 of Burn of the Everflame

I groaned. “Don’t tell me you agree.”

He grimaced. “Think of it this way . . . if Diem didn’t exist, what would you be doing?”

“I’d probably be King. And I’d be even more miserable than I am now.”

“Pretend you weren’t. Pretend the Crown went to someone you trusted to rule without your help. Someone like Zal.”

“You just want to imagine yourself as King Consort.”

He smiled guiltily. “Don’t change the subject. If your life didn’t revolve around a Crown, what would you want? What would make you happy?”

Her.

“Something that isn’t Diem,” he added. “Nothing about Lily or me or House Corbois, either. What do you want that’s just for you?”

He might as well have asked me the Kindred’s middle names or the best use for a one-legged ant. The idea of a life to myself was so unlikely an outcome, I’d never even allowed myself to consider it.

My head sank back against the tree. “Blessed Kindred, I am pathetic.”

Taran roared with laughter, finding a little too much delight in my wallowing. “Keep trying, cousin. You’re used to being good at everything you do. This is like using a new muscle. It’s uncomfortable at first. You’ve got to work at it every day until it gets strong.” He curled his arm to his shoulders and flexed a mammoth bicep. “Trust me. This is what I’m good at.”

“I’ll think on it,” I promised. I dragged myself to my feet, then helped him stand. We pulled each other in for a tight embrace that lingered just long enough to speak the words we didn’t: I’m sorry. I love you. We are family, no matter what.

As we returned to the palace, my thoughts churned over Diem’s words and Taran’s advice. I went to my room and opened a hidden compartment in my wardrobe, then fished out my journal of the half-mortal children I’d helped. My eyes lingered on another item I’d stowed out of sight—a folded tunic marked with a bloody handprint. I let my palm rest against it, thinking of the words I’d spoken that day.

If you’re the way my fate finally catches up to me, I can’t fathom a more beautiful end.

A confession. And an omen, perhaps.

There was no use pretending I could be happy without Diem in my life. That ship had set sail months ago. I was hers, now and always.

But, perhaps, I could be that . . . and more.

I took the journal into the sitting room of my suite and pulled a chair to the table. I gently thumbed through the pages, chest warming as I realized how long it had been since I’d had to add a new name. I reached the blank pages at the end, smoothed down the spine, and began to draw.

When I finished, I glanced out the window, surprised to see that hours had passed and the sun was low. I didn’t have long—a messenger hawk this morning had told us to expect Diem home this evening. I carefully tore out the page and tucked it into my pocket, then returned the journal to its hidden drawer. I grabbed my cloak and strode for the door.

It was time for a visit to Mortal City.

35

LUTHER

For once, I was grateful Diem’s return was delayed and for the extra time it allowed. When Tybold finally touched down on Lumnos soil, the sky was dark, and I was waiting on the lawn, Sorae pacing eagerly beside me. The urge to pull Diem off Tybold’s back and into my arms lured me to my feet, but his pointed glare kept me where I stood.

Diem eyed me warily as she and Alixe dismounted. “Any news?”

“Nothing to report,” I said. “How was Faunos?”

She and Alixe shared a look.

“They are . . . resistant to Her Majesty’s vision,” Alixe said. “They’ve stopped executing mortals who leave the Ring Road⁠—”

“So they claim,” Diem muttered.

“—but there are still none in their cities. Their Mortal City remains vacant, as well.”

“Perhaps the mortals fear returning to a place where the animals can be ordered to do the Descended’s killing.”