Page 279 of Burn of the Everflame

I glanced up at the sky, fighting a rising anger at the gods. “Three more days. Maybe four.”

Her eyes squeezed closed.

“I’ll send messenger hawks to the other realms to warn them,” I said.

“He’s interfering with the hawks. Alixe is sending riders instead. She’s calling back our soldiers on the sea, as well.”

“We should get the children somewhere safe.”

“Ophiucae won’t hurt the children.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.” My tone was more curt than I’d intended, my rage at fate and its cruelty spilling over, and she flinched at its bite. “I only meant . . . are you sure, Diem? Sure enough to risk their lives?”

She paused, then breathed a hoarse “no,” looking as if that answer cost her a great deal to give. She gazed at the merriment spreading through camp. “Maybe I should warn everyone now.”

“We’ve got guards on the borders and coasts, lookouts everywhere, and weapons at the ready. There’s no more that can be done for tonight.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Luther? Let them dance and be happy when death could be days away?”

“You could always join them.”

Her incredulous, almost offended look broke my heart to see. The timing could not be worse for what I had planned, but I was more certain than ever that it needed to happen.

I raised my other palm and fired three quick bursts of light into the clouds. Diem frowned. “Why are you calling Sorae?”

“Because you and I have somewhere else to be. It’s not far, and I told Alixe where we’re going. If there’s a problem, Sorae can have us back in minutes.” I squeezed her hand again. “Trust me. You’ll enjoy it.”

Cursed Kindred, I prayed that was true.

She tried to back away. “If the others want to have fun tonight, then fine, but I can’t. I’m the reason they’re here.”

“I will give you credit for many things, my Queen, but this war is not one of them. It started before anyone here was even born.” I tugged her back and slid a hand beneath her jaw, gripping her chin gently but firmly. “If you had not shaped its course the way you have”—I turned her face toward camp, where Descended, mortals, and half-mortals danced together among flowers and bonfires, sharing wine as freely as friendship— “they would be lining up on opposite sides of a battlefield, instead of preparing to fight together on one.”

Her eyes shadowed as she watched them, and I wondered if the more treacherous battle we faced was the one waging inside her.

The rhythmic thumping of gryvern wings filled the air as Sorae burst through the clouds. I fired another burst of light to catch her attention, then she banked and soared our way.

“What would you choose to be, if you weren’t Queen?” I asked Diem.

“A healer.” She said it quickly, no hedging, no hesitation.

“Then why did you quit?”

“I thought I wasn’t worthy of it anymore. And I thought the healer part of me belonged to my mother. I think I had to walk away to realize it belongs to me, too.”

“Do you still feel unworthy?”

Diem’s heavy, sunken expression gave me the answer she wouldn’t.

“Lily said something similar,” I said. “She told me her guilt was getting in the way of her training to help wounded soldiers in battle.”

“Guilt for what? Lily’s a good person. She’s done nothing.”

“That’s the problem. She always knew things were bad for the mortals and half-mortals, but she didn’t do anything for them before. Do you think that makes her unworthy to heal them now?” I cocked my head. “Which is worse—trying to help, even if you make some mistakes along the way, or doing nothing at all?”

The old Diem I knew would have scowled. Her adorable nose would have scrunched and her eyes would have rolled with an overdramatic sigh, even as the corners of her lips fought their way upward. You’ve made your point, Prince, she would have huffed, refusing at all costs to admit I was right.

Gods, I loved that Diem.