Page 240 of Burn of the Everflame

He let out a slow sigh. “Diem, turn around.”

“Freeze in hell.” I pushed off my heel and barreled toward him, but Henri had sparred with me a thousand times, and he was ready for my tricks. He dropped to his knees, and I went tumbling over him and planted face-first into the ground. A second later, his knee was on my back, pinning me in place. I heard the clink of metal, and I bucked and flailed as Henri fought to keep me down. He got a hand around my shackles, yanking them toward him, and by some miracle, one of my arms slipped out of the bindings.

Adrenaline surged at my stroke of luck. With my arms free, the desolate eastern expanse looked a lot more inviting. If I could make it to the sea, I could swim to safety. I might even make it back to Lumnos. One last chance to see my mate.

The brilliant, sunny hope of that prospect was blinding. I could think of nothing else—not even what leaving here might cost me.

It was hope that gave me the strength to rip out of Henri’s grasp. Hope had me fighting to flip him off me. Hope lit my way in the dark as I rose to my knees.

But a different emotion made me reach for his knife. And when I brought the knife swinging at his chest with a soul-cracking scream, the only thing left in me was hate.

Two arms closed around my waist from behind, dragging me away before my blade could find its target. My back slammed against something warm and solid as a gravelly voice murmured in my ear.

“Not yet, my heart. We might still need him.”

54

DIEM

Even with Lumnos a continent away, the brush of Luther’s skin felt like coming home.

He crushed me against him as if he might tuck me inside him, where the only fearsome power I would ever confront was the fierceness of his love. I threw my arms around his neck, forgetting hope and hate alike as I gasped in his woodsy musk. Though danger surrounded us on every side, in that moment, it felt powerless to hurt us.

Reality came crashing back as my eyes cracked open to see the two cloaked figures walking up behind him. “Luther, watch out!”

I could feel his reluctance to let me go as he pulled his sword and shoved me away—right into Henri’s grasp.

I braced for a blow, but Henri just nudged me behind him. He pulled another knife from a sheath on his calf and joined Luther at his side. As the hooded figures approached, Henri and Luther exchanged a few words, then Luther lowered his sword.

I stared at their backs, blinking and confused. The figures stopped in front of Luther. One leaned to the side and shook his head at me.

“If you keep disappearing on us, Queenie, we’re gonna have to put a bell around your neck.”

“Taran?” I cried.

He placed a palm on Henri’s face and shoved him out of the way, then strolled forward to wrap me in a hug. “You could have just told me you didn’t want to be the dagger-bearer at our mating ceremony. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble to get away.”

Luther pulled me out of Taran’s hold and tucked me back into his side. He pressed his lips to my forehead, lingering there as tension unspooled from his muscles. “I told you I would never let anyone tear us apart,” he breathed against my skin. “Not even a god.”

“He turned into Scary Lu again,” Taran said, shivering. “I thought he was gonna skewer Alixe if she didn’t march the army here to get you.”

I stiffened. “No—you have to send the army home. Ophiucae is too powerful. He’ll take all their minds if he⁠—”

“Relax,” Taran interrupted. “The army’s at home. Lu brought something better.” He grinned and threw an arm around the other hooded figure. “The men of House Bellator.”

The second figure pulled his hood down. “Don’t start,” he warned, seeing the outrage building on my face.

I glared at Taran, then at Luther. “You brought my little brother? Are you fucking mad?”

I tried to shove out of Luther’s hold, but Lumnos herself couldn’t have convinced him to let me go this time. “It was Teller’s choice,” he said, his tone gently scolding.

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “He’s a mortal.”

“We’re all mortals today,” Taran said. He wiggled his fingers. “See? No magic. We took flameroot so Evil Daddy wouldn’t sense us coming.”

“Stop calling him that,” Teller said. “Ophiucae’s not her father.”

“A kid can have two fathers,” Taran argued. “Andrei was Good Daddy, and Ophiucae is Evil Daddy.” He smirked at Luther. “Never thought I would meet anyone with a worse father than ours, but I think Queenie wins.”