Page 362 of Burn of the Everflame

“Auralie,” I interrupted, “if this is your way of asking for my help . . .”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling things on my own.” She paused. “But as King, if you wanted to help⁠—”

“I’m not King. I was King Consort. Now I’m just . . .” I swallowed, not quite sure how to finish.

“Yes, well, about that.” She reached to her other side and grabbed a rectangular wooden chest that I hadn’t noticed her carry in. “We sent a group to Sophos to survey the damage. They found this in the library and brought it back. There was a discussion in Mortal City, and it was decided that you should have it.”

“What is it?”

She placed it beside me. “I’ll have you know that I was opposed. It’s my opinion that Emarion has had enough of thrones. We have a council now. That’s where the power to govern belongs, and you’ll not see me waver on that. Not even for you.”

“Auralie . . . what’s in the box?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “But I suppose I can concede that a highly respected ceremonial figurehead to enforce the council’s decisions could be useful.”

“Auralie—”

She shot me a look that said stop asking foolish questions before I stop being too kind to point it out.

I flipped the latch on the chest and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of dark green velvet, sat a simple bronze crown, smooth and unadorned.

“It belonged to a mortal monarch,” she explained. “The other crowns from the mortal kings and queens were melted down and remade into jewelry for wealthy Descended. This one was plain enough to be forgotten, it seems.”

I shut the box. “That’s not for me.”

“The mortals want you to have it.”

“They want Diem to have it. They’re only giving it to me because she’s not here.”

“Then wear it for her.”

“I don’t—” I stopped, mouth clamping shut.

“You don’t want to?” Auralie guessed. “Or you don’t think you deserve to?”

I hunched forward again, forearms pressed against my thighs, head hanging. My hair, messy and unwashed, fell around my face and the scraggly beard I didn’t care enough to shave. I stared at my feet and realized I was wearing two different boots. I dressed with my eyes closed these days, because I couldn’t bear seeing how the mating mark had turned dark on my skin. Most days, getting up at all was a struggle.

“Both,” I whispered.

Auralie set the box on the ground and slid down the bench until she was lightly pressed against my side. She set a hand on my back and curled another around my arm.

“Good,” she said. “Never trust a leader who does.”

She leaned her head against mine, and we sat in miserable silence.

Her kindness shamed me. Auralie had lost her husband, her son, and her daughter, all in horribly violent ways. She’d lost countless colleagues from the Guardians, as well as several friends in Mortal City. Yet she had not fallen apart.

I knew she was grieving in private. I saw the way her eyes were red and a little swollen every morning, but when others were around, she was the embodiment of strength.

She, too, was everything I should have been.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should be doing more to help.”

“You’re in mourning. It’s perfectly normal to need some time to adjust. Don’t judge yourself for that.” She gently squeezed my arm. “And you are helping. You’ve put in so much work building new homes in Mortal City. Because of you, houses are going up in half the time.”

I wished I could feel some pride in her words, but my work there had been an act of survival. Slamming a hammer into nails for hours on end gave me an outlet for my rage, and it kept me from having to talk.

Everyone wanted to fucking talk. If I had to answer the question “How are you feeling?” one more time, I was going to swim across the Sacred Sea and impale myself on a branch of the Everflame. At least then I’d be with Diem.