Page 186 of Burn of the Everflame

When Vance’s only answer was a flex of his jaw, Diem whirled on her heel to face Tybold. “You are not to attack these men under any circumst⁠—”

A lever clicked.

A rope twanged.

A flying bolt whistled as it sliced through the air.

Then a loud snap as it hit the ground and splintered.

Vance’s hand was on the ballista’s trigger.

Diem and Tybold were unhurt.

In the meeting room, I heard Taran whoop and Enness chuckle, then Eleanor’s hushed gasp: “They missed!” But while they were watching, I was feeling. And my Queen wasn’t relieved, she was disappointed.

“They didn’t miss,” Alixe said. “They aimed in the wrong direction.”

Then I noticed what I should have seen all along—the way Tybold’s features were slightly out of proportion, the lack of movement in Diem’s hair despite the strong northern gusts. Telltale signs of a novice illusion.

In the memory, the outline of Diem and Tybold wobbled, then vanished. The eyes of Vance and his men shot across the field to the real Diem, mounted at a safe distance on the real Tybold’s back. “You could have proven how far you would go for your people, and you wouldn’t have risked a thing,” she called out. “You have one week to come fight me, Vance, or I’ll make sure everyone in Emarion learns just how pathetic you really are.”

The memory stopped, and the meeting room came back into view. The others blinked and rubbed their heads as the revelations set in.

“We have seven days to prepare,” Diem said.

“How do we know he’ll come?” Enness asked.

“If he doesn’t, he’s admitting she was right,” Runa said. “Those men are there for him, not Ophiucae. If he loses their confidence, they might not see a reason to stay.”

“Even if Vance doesn’t come, his men will,” Cordellia said. Her gaze slid to Diem’s Crown. “She just gave them the perfect motivation.”

A growl rolled out of me. “Nothing we just learned leaves this room. Treason against the Queen will earn you my sword through your neck.”

Cordellia’s eyes thinned on me. Mine narrowed back.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Eleanor cut in. “Why do we want them here? We’re still recovering from the last attack.”

“Chasing Vance’s men is exhausting our army,” Diem said. “We need to draw them in. We might as well do it where we have an advantage.”

Alixe nodded. “We know the land, we have all our weapons, all our people, we can prepare traps and lookouts . . . Lumnos is the best battlefield we could hope for.”

“It sends a message,” Nidara said. “He might not be willing to risk everything, but you are.”

From her tone, I wasn’t sure it was a compliment.

“What if Ophiucae comes with them?” Zalaric asked.

Diem’s stony stare held, but misgiving rippled through her spirit. “I’ll handle him. Eleanor, warn the people of Lumnos City. Send everyone who can’t fight to the arena. I’ll restore the magic barrier I broke at the Challenging. They’ll be as safe there as they can be. Send everyone in Mortal City, too.”

“Vance wouldn’t kill mortals,” Auralie said.

Shadows swirled at Diem’s palm. “He already ordered the murder of one.”

Teller’s head snapped up. Auralie paled, realizing her meaning.

Diem rose, and everyone followed suit—a Queen dismissing her subjects. Despite the disaster of the night before, her authority had become indisputable. Even the Guardians had begun dipping their heads when she passed, not because of her Crown—she was careful to never wear it in the mortals’ camp, a gesture that had not gone unnoticed—but because of how she greeted them by name, the extra blankets and medicines that simply appeared in their tents when they were ill, the way she gathered them around the campfire before every battle to ask, never demand, their help.

She was becoming something more than a Queen. What she asked of her people wasn’t submission, it was a bargain: if she could be better, so could they.