Page 233 of Burn of the Everflame

Ophiucae stopped.

My pulse raced. It was a calculated risk. If he was distracted, the shield he’d draped over Vance and his men might falter, which could give whoever they came across a fighting chance to get away.

“Why are we in Sophos at all?” I demanded.

“The people here were weak,” he called out. “I barely had to lift a finger to conquer the realm.” He looked over his shoulder, throwing a cruel smile at Doriel. “It was so easy.”

“I didn’t take you for a man who prefers easy,” I said tartly. “Is that the real reason you came here, or did you know how much the library means to me, so you took it to hurt me?”

“Hurt you?” He whipped around and stormed toward me, looking more enraged than when I’d called him a coward. He slammed against the other side of the bars and jabbed a finger at Doriel, snarling. “Did they not conspire with the Meros King to trap you on the island? Was the Ignios King not the one who put a blade in your chest? I punished all three of them for their crimes.”

I gripped the bars to steady myself on weakening knees. My advisors had spent many late nights trying to guess where Ophiucae might attack next, debating which realms might offer him the most strategic position or the most useful resources to plunder. We’d even considered whether his targets might be motivated by revenge against whichever of his siblings had wronged him most.

We had not considered his vengeance might not be for himself.

“You did it for me,” I breathed in grisly understanding. Generations lost, realms decimated to cinders, all in a twisted gesture of loyalty. “Call your men back from Umbros. I don’t want this.”

“I have my reasons for taking Umbros, even if you do not.” He held up the book on the heartstone. “And what better place than Sophos to put my research to the test?”

He walked away again, and my panic soared. He was already powerful enough to shield from miles away and take the minds of a realm. What more could he use the heartstone to do?

“Let me come with you,” I called out. “I want to see how it’s done.”

He rumbled a laugh. “So you can use it against me?”

“Not the heartstone,” I added quickly. “I want to see your—our magic. Show me how it works. You’re the only one who can.”

He turned his head halfway to me, seeming to consider my request.

“Diem, what are you planning?” Doriel murmured.

In truth, I hadn’t thought past getting him to say yes. I only knew that if I didn’t do something, I might not be able to live with myself for what he did next.

“If you want me to join you, it requires trust from us both,” I called out.

At last he relented, striding back to the cell with a hard, inscrutable look. I hurried out the door the moment he unlocked it and kept distance between us, hands clasped at my waist, eyes cast demurely low—the picture of submission.

He eyed me as we walked toward the grasslands. “Do you fear me, daughter?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

He let out a hum, and I wondered if that pleased or upset him. “Yet you wish to come with me. Alone. Unarmed.”

Extremely unarmed. No weapon, no magic. I couldn’t even lie without his detection.

“My fear isn’t for myself,” I said. “If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

That earned another quiet hum.

“Do you fear me?” I asked.

“You’re brave, indeed,” he said dryly. “A perilous trait. Nothing is more deadly than courage.”

I pretended not to notice the warning underlying his words. “You claimed I was almost as powerful as you. Does that mean you can teach me to do the things you’ve done?”

“Difficult, without your magic.”

“You can bring it back. Fortos magic can heal flameroot.”