Page 171 of Burn of the Everflame

“Maybe she knows something that could help you make godstone,” he said.

I avoided his eyes as I turned to slip on my shoes. “Don’t pretend you haven’t already told her that I’m trying to make it. If she could help, she would have told you.”

“Ask her anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because she loves you, and she wants to be part of your life. And I know that you miss her, even if you refuse to admit it.”

“I’m starting to regret forcing you two to get along.” I tried to pluck the journal from his hands, but he held it tight.

“And because she’s family,” he said. “And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Bellators never give up on their own.”

My insides tangled in an uncomfortable knot. “I’m not ready,” I said quietly.

He closed the book and set it down, then pressed a kiss to my cheek, and we spoke of it no more.

I grabbed my empty scabbard, pretending not to see the creases deepen on his brow as I tied it to my waist. I was grateful he didn’t push me on that, either. Though I was doing a fine job of putting on a happy face and actually meaning it, there were some dark corners I hadn’t fully crawled out from. Perhaps I never would.

Luther tucked me into his side as we left the palace and joined in the merriment. At Eleanor’s begging, I talked him into having a drink, which he only agreed to if I did the same. One drink turned to two, then three, and before long, our eyes were gleaming and glassy, and both our smiles waved like victory banners across our cheeks.

The Ignosians conjured a giant bonfire while a pair of Guardians retrieved simple wood-carved instruments from their tents. Music and drinks flowed freely as the unlikely army danced into the night. I curled up by the fire, warmed by the flames and the ale in my belly, and watched in amusement as Taran poured Lily increasing larger glasses of bubble wine. Luther glowered nearby, plucking each one from her hands.

“She’s old enough to drink,” Teller complained, flopping down beside me. “Luther should let her have fun.”

“You should go tell him that,” I said. “Men are legendarily reasonable when it comes to other men plying their little sisters with booze.”

He glared; I smirked.

“You two seem better,” he said. “Did you take my advice?”

“I did.” I bumped him with my knee. “Are you going to take it yourself?”

His eyes returned to Lily, who was now holding a full glass in each hand and hotly reprimanding an abashed-looking Luther while Taran looked on and grinned.

“Go steal her away,” I urged. “Take her to the forest and do something scandalous that your very modest, well-behaved older sister would never do.”

He scratched his head. “That doesn’t really leave me many options . . .”

I shot an orb of Meros water at his face. He wiped it away and grinned. “At least it wasn’t Montios rock.”

“Go,” I said with an encouraging shove.

He nervously climbed to his feet, though his smile fell as he watched Lily across the bonfire, where she had turned to chat with Lana and some other mortal healers.

“Go,” I yelled, “or I’ll use Faunos magic to turn you into a frog.”

“That’s not how Faunos magic wor⁠—”

“May I join you?”

A look of panic flashed between our eyes at the sight of our mother walking up.

I shot to my feet. “Actually, uh, Teller was just leaving, and, um, I have to go see⁠—”

Teller dropped to the ground. “I’m staying. You should go with Diem, she looks lonely.”

He smirked; I glared.