Page 373 of Burn of the Everflame

He grumbled as he bent down and kissed me. His fingers drew shadows down the curve of my neck, and my skin shimmered as his magic absorbed into mine. Since Ophiucae’s death fulfilled the bonded bargain I’d made with Doriel, my godhood had been restored, but my magic had fundamentally changed. While I’d once believed that I could wield all types of Kindred magic, it had been only Ophiucae’s power at work, pulling from the magic that his siblings had infused into Emarion’s soil at the Forging. That spell shattered with the heartstone, so now, my Descended magic was limited to what I absorbed from others.

Thanks to the mythical status my resurrection had earned me, there’d been no shortage of reverent Descended willing to donate their power in offering, and Luther was always vigilant to keep me strong. Even without the Kindred’s magic, the Fire the Old Gods had given me ensured that I, and the people I fought for, would never be defenseless again.

“I smell something burning,” Taran—the original one—called out as he and Zalaric rode up on horseback. “I know what that means. Either Lu’s cooking or you two just had sex.”

“Unfortunately, the former,” Luther muttered. He shouted as the goat gnawed through his pant leg and nipped at his leg. “Come get your damn namesake.”

Taran leapt off his horse and dropped to a knee, spreading his arms wide. The goat gave a jubilant bleat and scurried toward him. Taran scooped it up, curling the creature into his arms, though its gangly legs stood awkwardly straight. “There’s my favorite nephew,” he cooed, tickling the goat’s belly.

“I heard that,” Lily said as she emerged on the path from Mortal City. A woman walked beside her, cradling a sleeping babe against her chest.

“I meant my favorite goat nephew,” Taran said. He flashed a warm smile at the woman next to Lily. “Sarla, mind handing me my favorite human nephew?”

“Sorry, brother,” Luther said. “He prefers his favorite human uncle.” He gently took the child from Sarla and nestled the boy against his neck. “Hello, Andrei Teller Bellator,” he murmured, slipping a finger into the child’s tiny hand. “Look how strong you’re getting. You’re growing even faster than your aunt’s carrots.”

My heart twisted at the tender sight. After much discussion, Luther and I had agreed that we would bear no children of our own so that Ophiucae’s line would end with me. Our family was growing in other ways that blessed me beyond measure, and I certainly didn’t mind having Luther to myself for the rest of my days.

Sarla approached me with a low nod. “I’m sorry for intruding, Your Majesty. I know this dinner is just for family. I heard there might be tigers in the forest, and I didn’t want Lily to walk alone.”

I smiled. There hadn’t been a tiger in Lumnos since the Faunosians’ last visit, and if there was, Lily’s magic would do more to protect her than Sarla’s healing magic would.

“Please, call me Diem,” I said. “You must stay for dinner.”

Lily nudged up beside her, and I didn’t miss the way her fingers brushed against Sarla’s. “Are you sure?” Lily asked. “You don’t mind?” She nervously toyed with her hair, brow furrowed. I sensed the approval she truly sought was for more than a last-minute dinner guest.

“Lily, any friend of yours is family to me.” I pulled her into a hug, whispering in her ear. “Especially if they’ve become more than a friend.”

When I drew back, Lily’s cheeks were bright pink, but her shoulders eased. Her fingers brushed Sarla’s again, then wove together and squeezed.

“I brought an extra guest, too,” Taran said, his smirk turning mischievous. “He’s a real jackass sometimes, but he’s alright.”

Luther froze. “Taran, if you brought a fucking⁠—”

“Language,” Taran scolded. “Little Andrei is listening.” He whistled into the forest, and a screechy, braying sound answered back. A moment later, a scrawny donkey with patchy fur and one upturned eye lumbered lazily toward us, carrying a scowling Aemonn on its back.

“Get that thing away from my house,” Luther growled.

Taran grinned. “That’s not a very nice way to talk about my brother.”

The donkey brayed again. Luther’s jaw twitched, daggers forming in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” Aemonn muttered, sliding off the donkey’s back and brushing off his clothes with a disgusted scoff. “Someone let all the other horses out of the stable so this was the only thing left to ride.”

“Taran,” Luther rumbled.

Taran bounced the goat in his arms, his voice rising two octaves as he scratched its chin. “Wasn’t my idea, was it Taran Junior? I was ordered to bring you a friend.”

Luther’s glare drifted to me.

I pressed my lips tight, trying and failing to hide my grin. “You know, I could have sworn we discussed this . . .”

The donkey let out another shriek, the sound painfully loud as it echoed through the trees. Luther took a slow, deep breath and turned to Lily. “Sister, would you mind taking your son?”

Taran whistled. “Uh-oh, Queenie.”

The others laughed as I squealed and took off running for the house. By the time I reached the porch, Luther’s shadows had already spiraled around me. I considered absorbing them so I could slip away. My blood heated as I imagined fleeing up the stairs to our bedroom and the wicked punishment that might await when Luther found me there.

But there was time enough for that when the others left.