Page 158 of Burn of the Everflame

“Why?” He began to descend. “Seems like you keep letting them go.”

I couldn’t really deny it. Letting Vance and his men retreat had left many, including me, wondering at my plans. I told them we weren’t yet ready to face the full brunt of Ophiucae’s wrath. I’d claimed we needed more soldiers, more godstone.

What I really wanted was more time.

“They have something I need,” I insisted, jogging down the steps behind him.

He let out a harsh laugh. “Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of something you need.”

I gritted my teeth. “Symond, please, tell me where they are.”

“You’ve got the Crown. That makes you the most powerful. Force me to tell you, if you want it so badly.”

“I don’t want to do that. I’m not like Yrselle. I don’t force everyone to my will just to prove I can.”

He stilled. “Careful. It was not just her Crown that won Yrselle our loyalty.”

“I’m sorry,” I said gently. “I didn’t mean to insult her. I only meant⁠—”

He set off again, drowning me out with heavy stomps on the stairs. He reached a door at the bottom and pulled a ribbon from his pocket containing several keys. He began to rifle through them.

“Not a fan of bloodlocks?” I asked.

“Yrselle forbid them. A person can’t be compelled to give blood for a bloodlock. It must be given willingly. A key, on the other hand . . .” He held one up, eyes glinting. “A key can be taken from anyone.”

Suddenly, I deeply regretted leaving Teller alone.

Symond unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal an abyss of pitch black. He gestured for me to go ahead, and when I hesitated, he simply shrugged and strolled through. “Shut it behind me,” he called out as he disappeared into the shadows. “Your Majesty.”

I swallowed a retort at his mocking tone and followed behind him, tugging on the heavy door. As it swung toward me, I noticed its dark surface almost seemed to be . . . glittering.

“Godstone,” I breathed as it snapped shut, leaving me in total darkness. “Symond? Where are we?”

“If you want answers, you’ll have to take them,” his voice crooned.

I stuck my hands out and blindly shuffled forward. “Can’t you just tell me? I’d rather work with you than against you.”

“That’s your way. This is our way.”

“Symond, don’t be⁠—”

I fell silent at the sound of rustling behind me.

Then to my right.

Then again to my left.

My pulse quickened. “Symond?”

No answer came.

Light, I ordered my godhood.

No answer came there, either.

When I reached inside for my magic, I found only hollow space. My mind flashed back to the red liquid in the goblet, and only then did I notice the strange, citrus-and-smoke aftertaste Symond’s drink had left on my tongue.

Flameroot.