Page 259 of Burn of the Everflame

Andrei Bellator.

My mother came around to see what had captured my focus, and when she saw it, a wounded cry broke free. Teller frowned down at his chest, then his face went slack. “Is that . . . ?”

“Your father,” Lily said triumphantly. “It’s an account of his career. It was in a book of famous mortals that Zalaric found in the Umbros markets. He wanted to find a way for Andrei to be here. He even stitched a little pocket inside with some soil from your family’s home.”

Our mother began to weep. Teller and I stared at each other in matching heart-struck surprise.

Lily looked at him. “Get it? You’re the phoenix, because your father lives on through you.” She beamed. “It’s a metaphor!” She paused, cocking her head. “Wait.” Her eyes jumped to my bodice—“Oh.”—then to my mother’s sleeves—“Oh.” She squinted down at her dress, which featured a delicate diamond phoenix at the center of a sun whose jeweled rays spread from hem to hem. “You know what, I think they’re all metaphors, actually . . .”

Teller’s face was awash with pain, but also a reverent sense of honor. Our mother let out another sob, and he put an arm around her, folding her into his chest. I moved closer and wrapped another arm over her quivering shoulders. Teller’s hand found mine and squeezed. Lily placed a gentle touch on Teller’s arm, then quietly left the room.

“I miss him so much,” Mother whispered, her voice broken and weak.

I laid my head on Teller’s shoulder, the Crown atop it feeling suddenly too heavy to bear. “So do I.”

He let out a soft sigh, then leaned his head to mine. “Gods, so do I.”

Mother tried to wipe away her tears, though more were quick to take their place. “I’m sorry. You both went through so much, and I wasn’t there. I have no right to cry.”

“That’s why you weren’t grieving?” Teller asked. “I was so angry with you because I never saw you mourn him. You acted like you were perfectly fine. I thought . . .” He grimaced. “I thought you were relieved he was gone so you could focus on the Guardians.”

“Teller!” I cried.

“I know,” he said, looking ashamed. “I was angry. You both were so busy, and I had nothing. I felt completely alone.”

“I should have been more open with you,” Mother admitted. “I was worried that sharing my feelings would add to your burden.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Mother,” I said.

Teller caught my gaze. “Neither do you, you know. Not for us.” His eyes flicked toward the terrace and the bustling sounds of camp and the gathering wedding guests. “Not for them, either.”

I gave a faint smile. “Does that mean you forgive me for sparing Henri?”

“It’s not just about Henri. You let Vance go in Sophos. You let the Crowns go after they trapped you on the island. And Ophiucae . . .” The stare he leveled at me was sharp. “Some people are going to have to die before this ends. You know that, right?”

Our mother glanced between us, her brows rising at my silence. “That’s it. Tomorrow evening, we’re going home to the marsh. No arguing—we’ve put it off for long enough. It’s time to say goodbye to Andrei as a family.”

My insides knotted, but I didn’t protest. We all needed closure, however painful it might be. I nodded, then Teller did, too.

She dabbed at her face with her sleeve and gave a watery smile. “Shall we put this behind us for tonight? Your new brother is waiting, and he deserves our joy.”

Teller nodded again, and he managed a smile that, for the first time in a while, did not look like it had fought its way to freedom through a gauntlet of pain. “Let’s go,” he agreed. “I promised Taran that if he killed Aemonn, I’d help him hide the body.”

He started for the door, and our mother moved to follow. I hesitated, tugging on her hand.

“What I said before,” I started, “about Ophiucae . . .”

“Let’s discuss it tomorrow,” she said.

“If he is alive, we have to prepare.”

“We’re as prepared as we can be. Your army is ready. All we need is an enemy. Until we know where to find one, the only thing we can do is wait.” She gently squeezed my hand. “The truth will reveal itself in time. Let’s go celebrate today.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” She looked as if she might argue, so I forced out a smile. “I just need to find a pin for my hair.”

My brother called for us to hurry up, and my mother relented, walking away. I crossed the room to my wardrobe and rustled through the drawers for something to keep my hair in place to conceal my mark in front of Luther. As I searched, I thought on my mother’s words.

Your army is ready. All we need is an enemy.