Page 220 of Burn of the Everflame

I gasped, jerking upright. My bound wrists shifted to the pocket where I’d stowed the compass, but it was empty. My scabbard was missing, too. My hand flew to my neck, and when I felt no sign of the golden pendant Luther had given me, my heart shattered.

That necklace was so much more to me than jewelry. It had been a talisman on the island, a lifeline to the future I so desperately wanted to have. It had continued to give me comfort in the weeks I’d pushed Luther away, my small but mighty sentinel against the sadness that had made me feel so alone.

And now, it was gone.

As the morning wore on, I sank deeper into misery. A group of rebels approached and tossed two black, rocklike objects through the bars of the cell. It took me far too long to realize they were loaves of bread that had been burnt beyond recognition.

“Are we supposed to eat that?” I asked.

“I don’t care what you do with it. It’s all you’re gonna get.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll die of hunger,” another chimed in, and the others laughed.

The man leading the group looked around. “Who’s got the flameroot?”

Two men with flasks headed for our side of the cage. I nudged Doriel awake, and they drowsily climbed to their feet and faced the bars, looking as if this was a familiar routine. Grudgingly, I stood and joined them—then glowered when I saw the man standing across from me.

Henri wouldn’t look at me. He held the flask up, eyes cast low.

“You haven’t betrayed me enough already?” I spat.

“You banished me from Lumnos,” he mumbled. “I had nowhere else to go.”

The leader eyed us both. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Henri said quickly. He shoved the flask in my face. “Drink, Descended scum, or we’ll make the other one bleed until you do.”

Doriel blanched. They tried to back away, and the other man grabbed them by the collar and yanked them against the bars. He pulled out a knife and pressed its point to Doriel’s neck.

I threw every flame of my rage into the scowl I gave Henri as I leaned forward and drank. It took everything in me to swallow the flameroot instead of spitting it in his face.

“So much for being a better man for your child,” I said coldly. “I hope they never know you.”

Even though I hated Henri for what he’d done—really, truly, to the depths of my soul, despised him—at the sight of his heartbroken reaction, I hated myself a little bit, too.

“Ophiucae wants to speak with you,” the leader said to me, unlatching the cell door.

Doriel shot me a nervous look. I wasn’t sure whether they were grateful or terrified when I obediently walked out.

I followed the men up the hill as they bragged about all the Descended they’d murdered and boasted about what they’d do to the next ones they found, smirking at me all the while. They were trying to bait me into a reaction, and it was getting dangerously close to working.

Henri edged closer. “Don’t, D.”

It stung, how well he knew me.

“He ordered them not to hurt you,” he whispered. “Keep your head down, and you’ll survive this.”

I threw him a bitter look. “You know I have no plan to survive this.”

He solemnly returned my stare. “Maybe that should change.”

The men marched me through the library doors and down the massive central hall. Seeing the place where Luther and I had shared so many special moments made the distance from him feel all the more acute.

The feeling worsened as they led me toward the rooms marked for the Crowns’ use only, the sign for which had been torn down and defaced. We neared the Everflame-carved rotunda that housed the room where Luther and I had first made love, and I tried to stagger back, unable to bear seeing it ruined, but the men dragged me toward a different hall.

They stopped first at a washroom loaded with a basin of warm water and a fresh set of clothes. “You’ve got ten minutes,” the leader snapped, opening my shackles. He shoved me in and slammed the door.

I considered refusing out of spite, but I was covered in filth from the journey, and in the small quarters, my own reek was strong enough to make me ill. I hurriedly washed as best I could, then squeezed into the tight-fitting slacks, billowing silk blouse, and opal-buttoned vest, trying not to think about their original owner and whether they had died at my hand.