Page 312 of Burn of the Everflame

I glanced back at my newly united troops. Back in the forest, I’d presented the Faunos Descended with the same choice I’d given everyone else: fight or flee. Though their faces paled when I shared the full truth of who and what we faced, fighting was a way of Faunosian life, and they agreed to join us. We discovered, grimly, that they had left behind their old and infirm—nature’s way, they’d called it. Their children were sent with an escort back to Lumnos, and we resumed our march toward Fortos, where we’d found Vance and his men waiting for us at the forest’s edge.

Our luck was almost too good to be believed. Had I not wandered off, we would have missed the group from Faunos and Fortos entirely. Now, we wildly outnumbered Vance’s men, and our position couldn’t be better. They were entirely exposed on the Fortos flatlands, with nowhere to retreat to or hide, while we had the Lumnos forest on our side. Our archers had already taken up position high in the trees, and huge swaths of my army were concealed within the woods, waiting to make a surprise strike.

Vance and his men didn’t even have a shield. The glittering grey film of Ophiucae’s magic that had wrapped around them in prior battles was gone. Even with their godstone weapons, this would be an easy slaughter, over in minutes, without a single casualty on my side.

The mood of my soldiers was giddy. Many smirked with preemptive triumph. I even heard pockets of laughter as soldiers joked that they’d been foolish to be so afraid.

But my advisors weren’t smiling, and neither was I.

Because Vance and his men weren’t attacking.

They weren’t advancing.

They weren’t surrendering.

They weren’t even talking.

They were waiting.

“Maybe Ophiucae took my offer,” I said. “His shield is gone. He’s not helping Vance anymore.”

My mother and my mate exchanged a look. “My Queen,” Luther said, “his aura . . .”

“I know.”

If Ophiucae had abandoned his army, he’d apparently stuck around to see what came of it. The strength of his godhood had reached a head-pounding level, and it was still growing. He was either still getting closer or he was concealed nearby, refueling his magic from the soil.

“Surrender,” I shouted at the men. “Lay down your weapons, and your lives will be spared.”

Behind me, my soldiers grumbled at my offer. With victory appearing certain, they were itching to take revenge.

Ahead of me, no one moved. No weapons dropped, no heads leaned together in strategic discussion. They acted as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Stubborn bastards,” I muttered.

“You cannot win, Vance,” my mother yelled. “You’re too outnumbered.”

There was no triumph or smugness in her tone. These men had been hers once. I could see how it grieved her to contemplate killing the same rebels she’d sworn to lead.

“Ophiucae promises you freedom while he enslaves another,” she said. “This isn’t the way, Brothers. Freedom means having the power to set our own destiny. What power do you have that isn’t his to control?”

Still, they ignored us.

“I know you think the same of the mortals who fight with me,” I called out. “You think they serve a Descended Crown. You’re wrong.”

I reached inside to the small piece of Kindred magic that still remained within me—the nine-armed candelabra of the Crowns. Their flames flickered and swayed as if struggling to stay alight in a breeze, causing them to swirl into a single trembling fire. Strangely, when I tucked my Crowns away into the cold, dark shadows, the warmth in my chest only grew hotter.

I gestured to the empty space above my head. “The laws are in the hands of the people now. Isn’t that better than an eternity under Ophiucae’s thumb?”

Only silence answered back. Vance didn’t even give his usual sneer at my pleas. Just eerie, empty nothing.

I glanced at my mother. “Come with me. The rest of you, hold your positions.”

As I dismounted my horse, a clink beneath my boot took me by surprise. I looked down to see a golden plate inlaid into the road to mark the Lumnos-Fortos border. From the heavily wooded surroundings, I’d believed the border to be many yards ahead. The Forging magic had deteriorated so badly that the landscape of each realm, once starkly defined from one step to the next, had become difficult to distinguish. Fresh saplings had sprouted deep into the rocky flatlands, growing faster than nature on its own should have allowed. It was as if the land itself was healing, its harsh scars turning blurry and pale.

I rubbed at the burning in my ribs as my mother and I walked toward Vance. Luther’s shield shimmered into a dome around us. Shadows curled at my feet, then took the form of a dark silhouette walking at my side.

My hand tightened on Sorrow’s Edge. Even with Luther’s shield, it was a risk to leave ourselves so exposed. One well-aimed godstone arrow could be fatal.