Page 371 of Burn of the Everflame

“It’s a matter of fairness,” the woman insisted. “My ancestors earned our House’s fortune.”

“Fairness?” Henri said. “Your ancestors stole that land from mine, then passed laws to ensure we couldn’t get it back. The fair thing would be for the council to take it all and return it to the mortals.”

Several of the Descended council members groaned. “Here we go again,” one grumbled.

“It’s always about mortal and Descended with you lot,” another complained. “We’re supposed to be equals under the new laws.”

“Equal is not the same as fair,” Auralie said.

“Oh yes, it is,” Marthe snapped. “Whatever is done to my people, rest assured, I’ll see it done right back to yours.”

Henri leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Is that a threat?”

“Wonderful,” Norwick Benette muttered. “We’re back at war already.”

The bickering grew louder as more voices joined the fray. I glanced at my son, curious at his silence. He was gazing at the empty seat beside him. Though Diem’s place on the council had ended with her death, he’d refused to have her chair removed from the table. He’d declared it a reminder to the council of all those who died so that we had a world left to govern. I feared the real reason was that he refused, even after all this time, to accept that she was gone.

“Son,” I warned, “it will not end well to let these disputes go unchecked. You are their King. You have to step in.”

Luther flinched as his attention returned to the squabbling that had overtaken the room. Some council members had risen to their feet, pointing angrily at each other and trading accusations with insults, while others slumped in their chairs and sighed.

“They’re never going to stop fighting, are they?” he asked, quietly enough that I wasn’t sure the words were meant for me to hear. “The hate is never going to end. I made her a promise, but what if the world is too broken? What if I can’t . . .”

His eyes suddenly met mine. They held terror, and a plea for help. I had not seen such a look on his face since the day I found him standing in front of his birth mother, pleading for me to spare her life.

How do I prepare my son to be King? I’d once asked the Blessed Lumnos.

Love him, had been her answer.

I still didn’t know whether I’d failed her command that day. I’d been terrified that if I let Florille live, she would expose Luther as a half-mortal and get him killed, and there was no line I wouldn’t cross to save my child.

But I would not fail today.

Not my goddess, and not my son.

“Since the day you were born, I have tried to make you into what I believe a good King should be,” I said. “You fought it at every turn. You challenged every order I gave you. You broke every one of Ulther’s laws.” Luther’s brows rose slightly, and I gave him a pointed look. “Did you really believe I did not know what you were doing with the half-mortals? Why do you think word of their survival never reached my brothers?”

He frowned. “You knew? And you didn’t interfere?”

“I knew you’d never forgive me if I did. I doubted you’d forgive me at all, after what happened. But I had faith that nothing is ever too broken to heal.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Auralie watching us. She and I had come to a grudging truce since learning of our mutual grandchild. After weeks of simmering in resentment while watching her grow closer than me to both my children, I’d finally swallowed my pride and asked her for help. I’d almost torn out what little hair I had left when I heard her answer: Just love them, Remis. That’s all it takes.

But after watching her these past months, I was starting to understand what she meant—and perhaps what Blessed Mother Lumnos meant, too.

Love them for who they are, not for who I thought they should be.

I set a hand on Luther’s shoulder. “I know you will be a good King, and it’s because you fought me, not in spite of it. Leaders are not those who follow orders. They’re those with the courage to do what others will not.” I nodded to the empty chair beside him. “Your mate had that quality. So do you. You always have.”

“You would not have won my daughter’s heart if you didn’t,” Auralie agreed.

“Lead them, son,” I said.

Slowly, Luther pushed his chair back from the table. The arguing fell to a hush as he rose to his feet. His brows twitched downward, and his hand rose to his chest, fingers lightly brushing his heart. His gaze cut to the eastern wall and lingered, hard and focused.

After a long moment, he shook his head and looked back at the council. “Since the war ended, I’ve been asking myself one question: Is Emarion worth the price we paid to save it?”

Around the room, heads lowered, eyes looked away. There was not a single soul here who had not lost someone in the war. I suspected they often asked themselves the same question.