Page 242 of Burn of the Everflame

“He’ll kill you when he finds out,” I said.

“Good,” Teller said. “He’s earned it.”

Henri nodded in agreement with us both, and though the weight in my stomach grew heavier, I couldn’t bring myself to argue.

Taran threw Henri two middle fingers and a smile, then he and Teller started eastward. Luther gently nudged me to follow.

I resisted. “What about Doriel? They’re still in the cell.”

“Doriel’s alive?” Taran said, stopping. “How does that little worm keep escaping death?”

“I see that look, D,” Teller said. “We are not saving Doriel. They’re the reason Perthe is dead.”

My conscience tore in two. More blood, more corpses, more blame . . .

“Take Diem to the boat,” Luther ordered Teller. “I promised Obaneryn I would save Doriel if I could. He was certain they were still alive.” He looked at me. “I should have known.”

“I’m going with you,” I insisted.

“No,” four voices answered in unison.

“We’re all going with you,” I clarified. “And we’re all getting out of here safely. Including Doriel.” Teller opened his mouth to argue, and I shot him a look. “This isn’t who you are, Tel. You don’t wish death on people. You have a good heart—don’t let them take that from you, too.”

I turned and marched toward the city. Luther followed, holding tight to my hand and calling out orders for the others to haul the mortals’ bodies to the library steps.

Getting into the cell was going to be harder than getting out had been. The library’s front was bathed in light, and there were too many men patrolling the city.

“We need a distraction,” I said.

“We need whiskey,” Taran said wistfully.

Luther gave him a disapproving look, but Henri’s face lit up. “That’s perfect. I’ll tell the men on patrol I found a cask. They’ll want to keep it quiet so they don’t have to share.” He handed off another key to me. “This will open the cell. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

Henri moved to leave. Instinctively, I gripped his arm. He looked at me, but I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say. Anger and resentment and love and grief and loss were too tangled a knot to untie.

“We’ll wait on the coast as long as we can,” Luther offered. “If you can get away, there’s room in the boat for one more.”

Henri gave a slight nod, but his eyes never left mine. I saw in them the truth he didn’t say. I didn’t have to decide Henri’s fate—he already had.

“Don’t save me, D,” he said softly. “Just this once, let someone go.”

My fingers slipped from his arm, and just this once, I did.

Henri gave me a sad, lopsided smile, then walked away. Luther held me closer, and we all watched in silence as Henri strolled down the wide central road, waving down the men on patrol and pointing down an alley. The men grinned and clapped each other on the arms, then set off the way he’d sent them. Henri lingered for a moment and looked our way.

Then he was gone.

Taran slung one of the bodies over his shoulder, and Luther put on Teller’s cloak and grabbed the other. “You two stay here,” he ordered, setting off for the cell before I could protest.

“What if this is a trick?” Teller asked me. “Maybe Henri lured Luther here to kill him. Maybe he’s going to get reinforcements to kill us all.”

“The mortals here can’t kill me,” I murmured—though my eyes snapped to the street Henri had walked down. “Ophiucae did something to their minds to prevent it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I’m his daughter.” Teller bristled, and I sighed. “Family is complicated, you know that. Where we come from and what we become can be different things.”

“Which of those is being his daughter, D—where you came from, or what you’ve become?”