Page 157 of Burn of the Everflame

Of course they didn’t, I realized. Announcing her death would mean admitting they knew who murdered her. Much easier to feign ignorance and let everyone assume she’d been killed on her way home. Then blame would conveniently end up on the Guardians—or the traitor Queen that the Crowns claimed had joined them.

“I’m very sorry about what happened here,” I said. “I saw the damage in the city. I hope⁠—”

“Do you think she knew?”

I blinked. “What?”

He lumbered toward me, the goblets’ contents splashing over the sides. “I couldn’t understand why Yrselle was so determined to keep you here. She was furious that you left.” He came to a stop in front of me. “Do you think she knew Ophiucae was coming?”

I considered it. Yrselle was known for the control she kept over her city. It was hard to imagine she would let it be destroyed without warning her Centenaries to prepare. But she was also the most unpredictable woman I’d ever met. She thrived on chaos and delighted in knowing what others didn’t.

“She knew something bad was going to happen in Emarion,” I said. “Perhaps she didn’t know it would happen so close to home.”

He offered one of the goblets to me, but when I reached for it, he abruptly jerked it back. “Is she dead?”

I held his bleary gaze and nodded.

“And our gryvern?”

I winced, then nodded again.

“Did you kill them?”

That was a harder answer to give.

“They died trying to protect me.”

His eyes wandered to the empty space above my head. Though I’d kept my Crown hidden since our arrival, I let the dark wisps of the Umbros crown appear long enough for recognition to light up on Symond’s face.

“Well then.” He held the goblet out again. “Welcome home, Your Majesty.”

I wasn’t much in the mood for drinking, but it seemed rude to decline a man who’d just survived a slaughter. I took a small sip and nearly spit it right out. Whatever he’d poured tasted like it was strong enough to strip my insides clean.

Symond chuckled. “It’s been a long time since we had a Queen who couldn’t handle a glass of wild cherry liqueur.”

I forced down another sip with only a tiny grimace, then flashed him a defiant smile.

His eyes raked over me, though it lacked his usual provocative heat. “Did she tell you that you were her heir?”

“No. I thought it would be you.”

He swirled his glass, staring pensively at the liquid inside. “Maybe someday.”

My eyes narrowed at the subtle threat.

“I heard you made Ophiucae retreat in Sophos.” He clinked his goblet against mine. “Cheers to your victory.” He lifted the rim to his lips, pausing with an expectant look until I downed another gulp. He abruptly turned and sauntered down the hall. “I heard you made him retreat in Lumnos, too. And again in Fortos. I even heard he abandoned an attack in Meros, because you were already waiting for him there.”

“He did? Wait—how do you know that?”

“Yrselle is dead,” he called out over his shoulder, “but her spies are not.”

“You have spies in Ophiucae’s army?” I started toward him. “Does that mean you know where they are now?”

Two gryvern cries echoed down the hall. I stopped and looked up at the slice of sky visible through the caved-in roof. Sorae and Tybold circled overhead, though I couldn’t sense alarm or distress. I wasn’t thrilled to have left Lumnos without a gryvern to protect it, but I’d made a promise to Sorae, and the last time we made a trip across the sea with several people on her back, we barely made it home.

When I looked back at Symond, he was all the way down the hall and turning a corner. I threw my goblet down, its scarlet contents looking a little too much like spilled blood, and set off jogging in his direction. I caught up to him just as he pressed a hidden panel that opened to a dimly lit staircase.

“If you know where they are, you have to tell me,” I pleaded.