Page 237 of Burn of the Everflame

I closed my eyes. Held my breath. Awaited my end.

And I thought of Luther, and all the time I wished we’d had.

“Go back to your cell.”

I looked up to see Ophiucae walking away. Xipherus snapped his fangs in my face to push me back, then again, then again, forcing me toward the city. My heart sank as I gave up and turned away. I might not have died, but I’d had a chance to open his heart and I’d failed, and that was the greater loss.

With Xipherus snarling at my back, I shuffled to my cell. A glassy-eyed mortal was waiting there with keys in hand. With the stiffness of compulsion, he unlocked the door and held it open.

I wouldn’t have killed you.

The voice in my head stopped me mid-step.

On the island. I needed your blood, not your life, to get my freedom. And you were innocent. Just a child. My child.

I looked over my shoulder at his glowing form in the distance, his back still to me.

That was your mother’s true betrayal. Not putting a sword through my chest. Believing I would put one through yours.

Xipherus jabbed his muzzle into my shoulder, shoving me into the cell as the mortal slammed it closed behind me.

I ran forward and gripped the bars of the door. “Father,” I screamed, praying he could hear me. “If you love me at all, don’t use the heartstone. If you do . . . it will destroy us both.”

53

DIEM

Ophiucae kept his vigil through the night. I waited it out with my back to the grasslands, unable to watch, wondering if he would heed my plea. When his gryvern erupted in an ear-splitting roar and flew off toward Umbros, I feared I had my answer.

Doriel pelted me with questions. It was hard to say whether my refusal to answer was fueled by shame or loyalty to Ophiucae, but Doriel was quick to assume the latter. They moved as far away from me as they could get, their narrowed eyes flitting between me and my sire.

My mind made up for the quiet by fixating on every word Ophiucae had spoken and what each one had meant. Remembering the resentment in his voice when he spoke of my mother, and remembering the hurt in his eyes when he spoke of his. Knowing my compass was hidden in his pocket. Knowing its arrow pointed to me.

There was a heart inside him. I was sure of it. I’d seen it. His mother had seen it, too. She’d spared his life and left a stitch in her spell that gave him freedom for opening his heart to another. She’d believed in the power of love, and so did I.

Love could inspire anyone. It could heal them. Give them strength.

But could it change them?

Or were there parts of us so fundamental, even the strongest love could never wipe them away?

“You. Stand up.”

I looked up to see a cloaked figure standing at the door, his face concealed in shadows. Two mortal men were at his side, one carrying a lantern.

The man in the cloak gestured to me. “Come with us.”

My heart leapt. Maybe I’d gotten through to Ophiucae after all. I climbed to my feet and rushed to the door, my enthusiasm earning Doriel’s accusatory glare. The hooded figure quickly shuffled back as I emerged from the cell, and all three of them raised a weapon in threat.

The leader pulled a pair of shackles from under his cloak. “Turn around.”

I obeyed, flinching at the cold bite of iron as he bound my wrists behind my back. The man with the key turned to lock the door, and the hooded figure snatched it from his hand.

The two other men poked me with their weapons to get me walking. I started toward Ophiucae out in the grasslands, but they prodded me toward the library instead, and my insides tumbled and tied. If Ophiucae wanted to stop what he was doing to meet me there, that was either a very good sign or a very, very bad one.

We mounted the library steps to see the front entrance sealed with a glimmering shield. “Side door,” the cloaked figure growled.

I craned my neck at their shadowed face. Their voice sounded strange, almost forced. “Who are you? What’s going on?”