Page 274 of Burn of the Everflame

“They came back?” I asked.

She shook her head, looking ill. “City residents started standing still. They wouldn’t move or say a word. We couldn’t even compel them to speak with magic. Their eyes changed—hazy, like pipe smoke.”

Another Centenary let out a sob and covered his face. The others moved to comfort him, while Symond cast him an empty stare.

“His mate was the first Centenary to be affected,” Drusila said quietly. “We fled to the palace’s godstone room in the hopes it would save us from the same fate.” She glanced at the group behind her. “We were the only ones who made it in time. We stayed there for two days. When we came out, there was no one left. Not dead—gone. No bodies, just thousands of footprints headed south.” She hesitated. “We think they’re still alive, but . . .”

“Not in any way that matters,” Symond finished flatly.

My body went numb. In Sophos, I’d given Ophiucae a choice: end the killing and I would join him, or lose me forever. Had he already stolen the Umbrosians’ minds before I laid my ultimatum at his feet . . . or was Umbros his answer?

“I’ll send our fastest riders to warn the southern realms,” Alixe said.

“Maybe they’ll listen to you,” Symond muttered.

“We tried,” Drusila said. “The Arboros Descended raised a wall of seagrass to keep us from their port. Faunos nearly killed us with their creatures. We didn’t even dock in Fortos. We feared they might send something deadlier than sharks and kelp.”

“The Descended in Arboros,” I cut in, “did you see them?”

“Only from a distance,” Drusila said.

“Did they look as if their minds had been taken? Did they move strangely? Were they looking at you, really looking, or—” I stopped as the Centenaries fell into another silent conversation, eyebrows floating and furrowing.

After a moment, Drusila gave a helpless shrug. “They were too far away to be sure.”

A hope that I’d harbored in my heart, a candle still burning against all odds through a long and windy night, flickered and threatened to go dark.

The fate of Arboros would give me Ophiucae’s answer.

And when I had his decision, I could not delay mine one second more.

My gaze flicked back to Symond. His head was turned slightly, and though he tried to hide it, I knew he was watching me. Studying me. Debating a choice of his own.

“You may stay with your child,” I told Drusila. “The rest of you should return to Umbros. Gather whatever weapons you can find in the markets to defend yourselves.”

“We did that after the first attack,” a Centenary protested. “Now they’re his weapons. If you send us back, we’ll become his, too.” Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s what you want. He is your father—maybe you’ve chosen to join him.”

“I haven’t.”

As one, they stiffened, their magic sensing the not-quite-truth. Every Centenary turned to me, a firing line of accusatory obsidian stares.

“You’re working with him,” Drusila whispered. She eased a step backward and cast a nervous glance at her mate and child.

“I’m not,” I insisted. “I mean, not yet. I told him that if he stops the killing, then I’ll⁠—”

“You’ll what?” another Centenary interrupted. “A thousand years in a Fortos prison wouldn’t be punishment enough for what he’s done.” Their head cocked at my silence, lethal and loaded. “Were you planning to punish him at all?”

I could not summon an answer that would neither be a lie nor condemn me forever. Life beyond the war was something I’d allowed myself to want but not imagine, especially not one with Ophiucae in it. As I considered it now, my naivete stared back. What future could he and I possibly have? To everyone else in Emarion, he was a monstrous killer. If his blood didn’t run through my veins, he’d be the same to me.

And that wasn’t a good enough reason. Sharing an identity with someone, be it blood or homeland or faith or trauma, could earn them our compassion, but it could not erase the harm they’d done.

Suddenly, I felt ashamed. Pathetic. Ignorant. Mortified that I’d ever believed in any other outcome. Everyone had urged me to give up on mercy and bring this war to a quick, bloody end. I was a fool to insist there was a better way. Love couldn’t save him.

And it couldn’t save me.

“Your Queen orders you to return to Umbros,” I mumbled, bleak and dispassionate. I walked back to shore and paused at Alixe’s side, staring into the forest’s shadows while I waited for the ripple of water at my back that would mark their departure.

Though I couldn’t hear the Centenaries’ unspoken debate, I sensed it in the unease of my Royal Guard, who gripped their weapons, some preemptively raising their shields. The Centenaries’ limited numbers made their magic far stronger than the average Descended. If they made a final stand here, I had no idea which side would win.