Page 216 of Burn of the Everflame

“Fine.” I jingled the iron shackles trapping my wrists behind me. “But you’ll have to free me or help me with that flask. I can do a lot of things, but making objects fly isn’t one of them.”

“You could, with practice.” He crooked a finger. “Air magic can be very useful.”

Slowly, the flask rose on its own, gently rocking on an invisible bed of wind. Ophiucae nudged the little girl toward Kéani and started for me. He knelt beside me and plucked the bottle from midair, flipping the top open with his thumb and lifting its rim to my lips.

My godhood bleated its protest as the dreaded citrus-and-smoke flavor hit my tongue. My magic began to fade, and panic rose to chase it at how vulnerable I was about to become. Flameroot had always stolen more from me than magic—as my godhood waned, then silenced, a dull numbness took the place it left behind.

“Auralie made you take this every day,” Ophiucae said bitterly. “Your mate believed this her worst crime of all. I’m inclined to agree.” I recoiled from the flask, and he secured the top, then looked at Kéani. “You will obey.”

Her eyes glazed over. “I will obey.”

“You will not try to fight or escape.”

“I will not try to fight or escape,” she echoed flatly.

He motioned for the mortal men to untie her hands, then tossed the flask at her feet. “Drink the flameroot.”

She obeyed without hesitation.

“Take them to the others,” Ophiucae told his men. “If the woman refuses more flameroot, kill them both.”

Kéani jolted back into control of her mind. She clutched her niece as the men grabbed them by the arms and dragged them away.

“Let me go with them so they don’t hurt her,” I pleaded.

“They won’t.” Ophiucae tapped a finger to his temple. “No one disobeys my orders.”

“You’re controlling the mortals’ minds, too?”

“I give them boundaries, as any good leader should.” He sat beside me on the melted remains of what might once have been a wrought iron bench. “I’ve stopped them from doing many wicked things. There are some lines that should never be crossed, even in war.”

I blinked at his unexpected show of honor. I’d been preparing myself for months that there might be nothing left but evil in his heart and darkness in his veins. To see a glimpse of virtue left me with a warm discomfort I didn’t know how to hold.

“You let them kill innocent Descended,” I argued.

“All Descended have benefited from the mortals’ persecution. The children alone are without blame, so the children alone have been spared.”

I held my breath. “The children are alive?”

“Of course. I’m not a monster. They are safe, far away from all the fighting.”

Again, my heart expanded in my chest. Two sides of me clashed. One warned that this was a cunning ruse. The other clung to a dangerous hope that there might be enough goodness left in him for me to stop the war—without having to die to do it.

“I didn’t hurt the adult Descended, either,” he said. “I merely gave the mortals a shield. Should they not be granted the same protection my siblings’ progeny hide behind?”

“You gave the mortals godstone, too.”

“The rebels acquired those weapons on their own. I believe your mother is to thank for that.” He shrugged. “I can neither make godstone nor destroy it.”

I tried to stifle my surprise—I can make godstone, but he can’t?—but from the curious rise of his brows, I’d failed. I quickly looked away and took in my surroundings.

The vibrant, bustling hub of Sophos City was in ruins. Towering glass buildings had become knots of mangled steel, courtesy of what I guessed were rebel bombs. In the lush courtyards where I’d once watched neighbors gather under twinkling lights, jeering men built bonfires out of art and papers and books, irreplaceable artifacts destroyed forever, an entire history erased alongside its people. The sight of it made me ill.

Spotlit by the evening moon, one shining beacon remained—the library Ophiucae had spared.

For me.

“What’s she doing here?”