Page 23 of Burn of the Everflame

“I know even more about it than you.” She pointed a thumb at the door. “Shall I fetch some from my camp’s supply? We’ve got plenty to spare.”

Faces blanched around the room. Knowledge of flameroot was highly guarded, even among Descended. I only learned of its existence while handling my late uncle’s letters after he fell ill. For the Crowns to discover that the rebels not only knew of it, but had their own stockpile . . .

Doriel let out a nervous noise that sounded half like a laugh, half like a whimper. “Let them keep their weapons. A sign of mutual trust.” They gave another pained smile and motioned for everyone to follow.

The mortals and I held still, forcing the Crowns to lead and give us their backs. My father hovered nearby and watched. On the surface, he was composed, confident, the faultless diplomat—but even his staunch self-control couldn’t hide the circles beneath his eyes, nor the agitated flexing of his jaw.

Auralie and Cordellia breezed past him without acknowledgment. When I moved to do the same, he reached for my arm.

“Luther!”

A voice—light, feminine, and not my father’s—trilled through the hall. I turned to see a blur of saffron skirts and short, glossy curls fly across the foyer and collide with my chest.

“Lilian,” my father whispered sharply. “I told you to stay away.”

“Why didn’t you write?” Lily asked me between sniffles. “I was so worried.”

A heavy weight eased from my heart as I looped my arms around my sister and squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t be certain who might read it before it reached you.”

My father scoffed.

Lily gazed up at me. “You have a beard.”

I tugged at a curl bouncing just above her shoulder. “You cut your hair.”

She grinned. “I did it myself! Well, Eleanor helped. She thought I might need a change after . . .” Her smile wobbled. “After everything.”

“Lumnos’s twat, it’s really him.”

I barely nudged Lily to safety before Taran crushed me in his grip. “Cousin,” I grunted.

Though it sounded gruff, that had always been our way. Taran needed my steadiness to calm his troubled spirit; I needed his heart to keep warmth in mine.

“You gods-damned asshole,” he shouted, thumping me in the chest. “Where in the nine realms have you been?”

“You’re back!” Eleanor exclaimed, jogging forward. She burrowed under Taran’s arm to wrap me in a hug I was glad to return.

Over her shoulder, Zalaric stood a short distance away. Despite his typical reserve, he offered a smile, and I returned it.

I’d always been a private person, keeping distance as a rule, so it surprised me how much comfort it gave me to see them all again. If only the woman responsible for opening my heart was here to fill it, too.

“It’s such a relief to have you home,” Eleanor gushed. “Things here have been, um . . . difficult.”

“Fucking miserable,” Taran mumbled.

“Of course we all knew you and Diem must have had your reasons for staying away,” Eleanor insisted. She frowned and looked around. “Where is Her Maj—oh, Teller, you’re back from Sophos!”

Lily stiffened. She and Teller connected eyes, and the rest of us awkwardly watched.

“Hi, Lily,” Teller said quietly.

Her fingers brushed her lips as if he’d kissed her rather than offered a simple hello.

His gaze dropped, then rose again. “You look lovely. Your hair . . . it’s nice. It suits you.”

Her bottom lip gave the smallest tremble before she locked it away. “Hello,” she clipped, then turned her focus back to me. “Where is Diem? Is she with the other Crowns?”

Find her, my godhood snarled. FIND HER.