Page 55 of Burn of the Everflame

Everything was on the line.

I raised my sword and walked into the fray. I fought for my sister and all of my young, innocent cousins hiding inside the palace walls. I fought for all the half-mortals I’d saved over the years, whose second-class status would not spare them from Ophiucae’s wrath. I fought for my friends—for Alixe and Taran, who had trusted me through so many secrets and so many lies.

And I fought for my Queen.

My love.

My heart.

The woman who’d fought for me when all seemed lost. If I could do nothing else, I could at least return the favor.

The battle became a whirl of glittering black and liquid red, my skin burning hot as dragonfyre danced perilously close. Blows landed, mine and theirs. Pain was present, but distant, my wounds less important than the ones I bestowed. At some point, I spotted Taran and Zalaric in the melee, and the feeling of all that was at stake grew darker and weightier.

Sorae’s screech cut through the din. The terror in it drew my eyes—not to her, but to Tybold, who was pinned beneath the Meros gryvern, one claw pierced deep in his chest. Behind them, the Meros King emerged from the palace, dragging Ignios along the ground by his hair.

Ophiucae crooked his finger, and a knifelike burst of wind slashed through the center of the fighting. It sent bodies flying, mortal and Descended both, clearing the way for Meros to shove Ignios in a heap at Ophiucae’s feet.

“I understand you’re the one who killed my daughter,” Ophiucae said.

Certain death had made the desert King brave. He raised his orange eyes and jeered. “I put her in a grave. Where you both belong.”

Ophiucae gave no reaction. He flicked a hand, almost boredly, and Meros stumbled back, his mind again his own. Sophos and I pulled him away, and the fighting slowed as mortals stopped to watch.

“The Prince seems to think you’re lying,” Ophiucae said. “Perhaps I should see for myself.”

“I’m not ly⁠—”

Ophiucae’s hand squeezed around his throat. Ignios’s eyes went glassy, and both men fell silent.

Like a reflex, my hand slipped into my pocket and palmed the compass. Still whirring, still aimless.

“Interesting,” Ophiucae murmured. His head angled to me. “Interesting, indeed.”

I took a step closer, heart stuttering with an uneven beat. “What do you see?”

Thunder boomed in the distance. With the sky clear and the day sunny, the sound took us all by surprise. Eyes turned skyward as low, dark clouds began to form. A buzzing current electrified the air, the hair on my arms stretching high.

CRACK.

Silver-white light exploded around us, leaving me blinded. When the world returned, there was something . . . different. Something I could sense but couldn’t see.

Not until my focus settled on the Ignios King.

His Crown was gone.

I glanced up at Ophiucae in search of an answer, but he looked equally perplexed. Our eyes moved in unison to Sophos.

No Crown.

Arboros—no Crown.

Meros—no Crown.

A woman’s scream sounded above us. I looked up just in time to see the Faunos Queen—Crownless—bucked from her gryvern. She fell through the air and hit the cobblestones with a loud, sickening thud.

“My magic,” Mireille cried out, staring at her palms. “It’s gone!”

Matching looks of horror flashed across each of the monarchs’ faces. But Ophiucae no longer looked puzzled—he looked furious.