Page 219 of Burn of the Everflame

“You’re mated.” My heart squeezed, imagining what it would do to me to watch my mate die—the way it would snuff out all light in my life forever. “Oh, Doriel . . . I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“No,” they murmured. “My mate lives.”

Oddly, there was no relief in their tone. If anything, it seemed to deepen their grief.

“We kept it secret for so long,” they said. “I feared our people would think we’d betrayed them by taking a foreign mate. Obie agreed that our duties to our realms came first.”

“Wait . . . Obaneryn is your mate?”

They nodded bleakly. “When we lost our Crowns, a part of me was glad. At least we wouldn’t have to wait for the afterlife to be together anymore. I even convinced myself that Blessed Father Sophos was offering me a gift for my service.” Their eyes drifted to the smoking corpse of their city. “I wasn’t being rewarded. I was being condemned.”

Though the kinder part of me wanted to ease their pain, I could not absolve them of the role they’d played in the ruin of their realm. Doriel wouldn’t have believed me if I’d tried.

There was one burden I could ease. “Sophos didn’t take your Crown to punish you, Doriel. I needed all nine Crowns to break the spell and leave the island. It was nothing more than that.”

“Blessed Lumnos gave you her Crown long before then. Blessed Fortos and Blessed Montios, too. The Kindred chose you to lead.”

They chose me to die.

The words waited on my lips, tasting of curses and ash.

My mind shifted to my own mating mark, cold against my skin. The flameroot had dulled its magic, too. If I didn’t make it out of this alive, had I felt Luther’s heart beating alongside mine for the final time?

“We’ll find a way to escape,” I said firmly. “We—you will see your mate again.”

“If Obie comes to rescue me . . .” The color drained from their face. “Death isn’t enough for those men. The things they’ll do to him . . .”

“That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”

“How? You’re locked in the same cell I am.”

I frowned, thinking on my sire and the affection for me he’d confessed. “I think Ophiucae brought me here to win me over. He wants me to join him.”

“Are you going to?”

My “no” came, but not quickly enough—and Doriel noticed.

“I’ll make him think I am,” I hurried to add. “If I can get him to trust me, maybe I can convince him to let you go.”

Creases twitched along their brow. “Why would you help me?”

In the burning rubble, my eyes lingered on the twisted metal that had briefly been my brother’s home. The last time I was there, Luther had let me see his memory of the moment he’d spared Vance’s life. He’d done it for me, knowing I would choose mercy over murder. To him, it was my greatest strength.

I wondered now if it would be my downfall.

“You helped me solve my father’s murder,” I said. “Let’s call it repayment for that.”

We both settled against the bars and curled our bodies in against the midnight chill. With the air still thick with smoke, our minds on our mates, and the mortals loudly reveling in their triumph, there would be little sleep for either of us tonight.

“The people who killed your father,” Doriel murmured, “did you make them pay?”

“No.” I turned my face to the burning city. “But I will.”

Many hours later, Ophiucae’s men grew tired of celebrating and wandered into the few remaining intact buildings to sleep. The city fell quiet, save for the occasional swoop of Ophiucae’s gryvern on patrol and the soft sounds of Doriel weeping. By dawn, they succumbed to exhaustion, leaving me with my thoughts.

Though the mating bond had dulled since drinking the flameroot, some part of its presence had survived—a flutter of feeling, the faintest tightening of an invisible chain. Each time I reached to grab it, the sensation slipped away, but it was unmistakably there.

Did Luther know I’d been taken? I’d stormed off without explanation. I hadn’t even left the compass⁠—