Page 54 of Burn of the Everflame

The mortals erupted in a triumphant shout. Another curl of Ophiucae’s finger had frost forming across the liquid metal and cooling it solid. Meros jerked out of Alixe’s grip and continued toward the palace.

From his place by the door, Tybold arched his neck with a rumbled warning and a brewing glow of orange flames.

“Surly as ever, Tybold,” Ophiucae called out. “We both know what it is to spend centuries in chains.”

Tybold stretched his wings, baring yellowed fangs.

“That’s not the only thing we have in common, is it?” Ophiucae’s lips curved upward. “Let him through to your Crown. I’ll do what you want to, but cannot.”

Dark scales rippled as Tybold’s enormous chest slowly rose and fell. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was considering the offer.

But as Meros came closer, the spell enslaving Tybold left him no choice. He shifted in front of the palace doors and lifted a sharp-tipped talon.

“Very well,” Ophiucae said. “I always wondered how strong these bonds were. I suppose it’s time to find out.” He turned to his own gryvern. “Xipherus, attack.” He pointed to Sorae. “Her.”

My heart hammered as his gryvern launched into the air. I cupped my hands at my mouth and shouted, “Sorae, leave—get away from the palace!”

With Diem’s orders hanging over us both, would she obey me? Could she?

But Sorae was so much like her Queen—fearless and ready to fight for the people she loved. She opened her wings and met Xipherus with a ferocious snarl that turned into a shriek as the beast sank his teeth into her neck.

My shout was drowned out by Tybold’s ear-splitting, ground-rattling roar. He paced a tight circle by the doorway, muscles bunched, glare fixed on the sky. Meros came closer, and Tybold’s jaws erupted with a flood of dragonfyre, but the moment Obaneryn staggered backward, Tybold’s focus was back on Sorae.

The Meros gryvern hissed at the attack on its Crown. It, too, set a course for Tybold.

I turned to the Queens. “Send yours to help her.”

Arboros looked nervous. Faunos pursed her lips, seeming to consider whether Ophiucae might be doing her a favor by weakening her strongest peers.

“Mireille,” I snarled. “You owe this to Diem.”

She winced and slid off her gryvern, then whispered something in its ear. The beast grunted, displeased at leaving its Crown so vulnerable, but like the others, it had to obey. With a beat of its wide, feathered wings, it took to the sky.

Faunos gave an indifferent shrug. “They’ll be fine. My Rosha can stay and fight for us.”

The clash of teeth and claws rang out as both groups of gryverns collided. Sorae fell from Xipherus’s jaws, stilling my heart in my chest until her wings unfurled and she soared back into flight. On the ground, the Meros and Ignios gryverns exchanged plumes of teal and orange flames while the hypnotized Meros King flung blasts of water that hissed to steam as he tried to push through.

Ophiucae laughed, his face aglow with delight, and a bad feeling took root in my gut. He’d concealed an entire fleet with an illusion, and he’d been shielding hundreds of mortals. He’d pierced my defenses like paper and made a Crown his puppet. Through it all, his aura hadn’t weakened one bit. If he could do all this without tiring his godhood, what more was he capable of?

And why wasn’t he already doing it?

Sophos stormed to the front of the lines. “There’s no need for this. If Ignios is what you want, you can have him.”

“He is only the beginning of what I want.”

“What do you want?” Arboros asked.

His eyes gleamed. “Revenge.”

The mortals let out another thunderous cheer.

Ophiucae looked at Vance, who stood nearby with a godstone sword and a venomous grin. “Make them pay for their sins.”

Vance punched his blade high. “True Guardians of the Everflame . . . attack!”

The field turned to madness. Doriel’s gryvern unleashed a wall of blush-colored flames to push the mortals back, while Faunos did the same from the sky. Ophiucae cast answering waves of ice and water, and scores of his men slipped through with every break.

A somber realization dawned. This battle could very well be the final stand for Emarion. If Ophiucae won, he’d kill us all. New Crowns might emerge, but no one would be fool enough to challenge him after that.