Page 364 of Burn of the Everflame

“I’ll speak with Ailani. The Faunosians will be gone by the end of the week—without our animals. I’ll speak with the farmers, too, but you’ll have to come with me. They’re more likely to hear me out if you’re there.”

Her lips tightened, trying to suppress a smirk. Fuck, it reminded me so much of Diem.

“I’ll be happy to come along,” she said.

“And Fortos . . .” I blew out a breath. “Fortos is a mess.”

“They’re used to hierarchy. They don’t know what to do without a clear leader to take command.”

I looked at the wooden chest at my feet. “Then I guess I’ll have to give them one.”

Auralie leaned over and reopened the lid, scooping the crown from its velvet pillow. She held it at her waist for a moment, closing her eyes and murmuring a quiet prayer to the Old Gods. When she finished, she turned to me and lifted it high.

I hesitated. I hadn’t prayed since Diem’s death. The only thing I was willing to offer the Kindred was rage, and I resented the Old Gods for taking her body. Still, it felt wrong to take a mortal crown without acknowledging them in some way.

My eyes closed.

I will not ask for your guidance, I told them. No matter how benevolent you may be, too much cruelty has been inflicted in the name of some god or another. The people of this world need to act for each other now. The hurt we cause in life has to matter more than any reward we may or may not receive in death.

But I will ask you for one thing: Give her peace. Let her rest. And if the life I lead is judged unworthy, don’t make her suffer for my failure.

I dipped my chin to lower my head, and Auralie set the crown atop it. “May the Old Gods answer both our prayers,” she said.

I angled my neck, testing the weight and balance. It was heavy for something so plain. The fit was snug, its sharp edges digging into my skin. It seemed like the kind of crown that never became comfortable, no matter how long it sat on your head. The kind you always felt the weight of. The kind that might come tumbling off if it wasn’t worn with care.

Exactly how a crown should feel.

Auralie leaned back, evaluating my new look. Though she’d been the one to put it there, I saw her trepidation. Even Diem as Queen had been something Auralie tolerated, never celebrated.

“If I ever become anything like the old Descended Crowns, promise me you’ll take this thing back,” I insisted, hoping to ease her concern.

“Oh, you can be certain of that. I won’t have a Bellator King give me a bad name.” She winked, and I smiled—something I hadn’t done in three months.

“You asked me a question,” she said. “I should ask you the same. Be honest with me, Luther. Is there anything you need?”

I quickly shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and neither am I. But we go on regardless.” She took my hand and folded it in hers. “Tell me what you need. There must be something.”

My eyes turned back to the statue. When I looked at its somber face, I saw only the woman who inspired it, her beautiful smile spread wide.

“Just her,” I whispered.

Across the room, the door creaked open, and a small, surprised “oh” echoed through the rafters.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, staring at me and easing backward. “I didn’t mean to disturb.”

I felt another pang of shame. I’d been curt with my sister, and everyone else, every time they tried to join me here. This shrine to Diem left me feeling vulnerable in a way I could only bear to face alone.

“Come in,” I called out, waving her over.

She lit up. “Really?” She strode inside. “Wait . . . are you wearing a crown?”

“You know how I’ve always dreamed of being King.”

Lily giggled at my disdainful tone. Back when I’d been King Ulther’s heir apparent, she knew it was a role I never wanted, nor intended, to take.

“Would you two like some privacy?” Auralie asked.