Page 291 of Burn of the Everflame

Shadows thrashed in Luther’s eyes in eager assent.

As if he’d been listening—suspiciously like he’d been listening—Remis emerged from the palace. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing in deferential greeting. “I heard your advisors were meeting. I wanted to ensure I didn’t miss it.”

I cringed, remembering his appointment as my Warden of the Shadows.

Sorae, however, had not forgotten the man who locked her up to keep her from my side. As Remis walked closer, she lunged at him, growling.

“Oh for Kindred’s sakes,” he said, jumping away. “How many centuries have we worked together, Sorae?”

“You put her in chains,” I reminded him.

“To keep the Crowns from killing her to weaken you.” He gave her an indignant stare. “I let you go when she called you from Sophos, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t call Sorae from Sophos,” I said.

“Something summoned her. She nearly strangled herself trying to get free.”

“I did,” Luther said. “When I realized Doriel had betrayed us, I wasn’t sure I could get to you in time, so I sent a warning to Sorae.” He pressed a hand to his mating mark. “I prayed this would help her hear me.”

My breath caught. If Sorae hadn’t come, Luther and Teller would have died on the island. Mating with Luther had healed my wound and saved my life—and mating with me had saved his.

“So you finally told her,” Remis said. He looked wearily at the sky. “Thank the Blessed Kindred.”

Taran snorted. “Took long enough.” He stiffened, staring at Luther. “Wait . . . you told him but not me?”

Eleanor gaped at Taran. “You knew?”

Taran gaped back. “You knew, too?”

Zalaric smirked. “I knew about them both.” He jerked his chin at what was left of my sheer bodice. “I designed the dress to show off your mark and hurry things along. If I had to keep watching you two touch your chests every five minutes, I was going to explode.”

“What is he talking about?” my mother asked, stare darting between us. “What do they know?”

I looked at Luther, and the grins we’d been wrestling to subdue came soaring free. “We’re mated!” I shouted, the words bubbling out of me with a joyous laugh.

“We’re mated,” he confirmed quietly, love blazing in his eyes.

Our friends crowded in as we recounted the unusual details, though we demurred when pressed on why we kept it from each other for so long. The truth, the whole truth, would bring an end to this happy moment, and I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet.

“How did you know?” Luther asked, eyes narrowing at his father. “I told no one.”

“Your illusions are good, son, but they are not perfect. I’ve spent many years looking at your scar and thinking on my role in causing it. I knew you were hiding something there. Watching you with her, it didn’t take long to figure out.”

“Can we see your marks?” Lily asked.

I shifted the torn remnants of my dress to show off the shimmering symbol that lay over my heart, and Luther took off his coat to reveal his. Lily leaned in toward his chest, hand hovering over it like it was a holy object, too sacred to touch. I couldn’t unsee the quiet envy that tempered her smile—nor the way my brother watched her, then looked away.

Taran burst into tears, throwing himself into Luther’s arms. “I’m so—sob—always knew—sob—so happy—sob—love you both.” More tears were streaming down his face than at his own mating. His reddened eyes rose to mine, filled with gratitude and oceans of fondness. “You chose him, Queenie.”

“I did,” I said, smiling through tears of my own.

Eleanor and Lily swept me up in ecstatic hugs, then fell into excited chatter with Zalaric about the post-mating party they’d already made up their minds to plan. Alixe flashed me a congratulatory smile that grew larger as she reached around a blubbering Taran to clasp Luther’s forearm. “I knew someday I’d be calling you Your Majesty,” she teased him.

Taran gasped, head popping up. His eyes grew large. “Lu, you’re Queenie’s mate! That makes you . . .”

“No,” Luther said sternly.

“Kingie!” Taran cried. “Queenie and Kingie!”