Page 56 of Burn of the Everflame

“One betrayal was not enough?” he roared at the stormy, darkening sky. “I was going to spare them. I would have let them bend their knees to save their necks. Now I will savor their deaths.” His glare dropped back to his soldiers, his voice dropping to a growl. “Kill them all.”

The fighting reignited, with a new, critical problem at its center. Without their Crowns, the former rulers had become normal Descended. Outside their home realms, they had no magic. They had no gryverns, either. Except for Sorae, who was still embroiled in battle with Xipherus, the other creatures had begun backing away from the fight.

“Alixe, Taran,” I shouted. I pointed to the ex-Crowns. “Get them out of here!”

Though I couldn’t have cared less whether any of them lived or died, if they were the focus of Ophiucae’s ire, getting them as far as possible might draw him away and give our soldiers a fighting chance against his men.

They leapt to obey my orders. Taran barely managed to deflect an axe aimed at Mireille’s skull just as Alixe shoved Doriel out of the path of a swinging black mace.

Ophiucae’s glare returned to the sickly man at his feet. His lip curled back as his palm stretched forward. Ignios let out a bloodcurdling scream, and a breeze carried the stench of decay to my nose.

Fortos magic.

“Stop,” I said loudly. “His death is mine to claim.”

Ophiucae paused. Turned his head. Narrowed his eyes. “The suitor again.”

The thick, toxic heat of his aura pulsed around me, rippling with rage that felt as infinite as the sky, as turbulent as the oceans. This anger had been brewing for lifetimes and rotting in the darkest of shadows. I had seen raw fury in my life, certainly felt it myself, but I had never felt hatred as potent as this. What I couldn’t tell was how much was directed at the Ignios asshole . . . and how much was directed at me.

I forced myself to keep advancing. “If he truly hurt Diem . . .”

“Oh, he did. Put a knife through her heart, just like he said.” Ophiucae sneered. “Just like her mother did to me. My mother, too. Ironic, is it not?”

Ringing filled my ears. I’d been certain that if Diem was really gone, existence itself would change. How could it not? How could the sun shine as bright without her smile to light it? How could the wind smell as sweet with no scent of her on its breeze?

How could my world stay upright if the woman I’d built it on turned to dust?

Everything about it felt wrong. My godhood still snarled at me to find her. My heartbeat kept echoing like it was calling for hers. I was connected to her in a soul-carved way, and the cord that bound us pulled more strongly than ever.

But no one could survive a godstone blade to the heart.

And yet . . .

“You survived it,” I said.

Ophiucae whacked the back of his hand across the Ignios bastard’s jaw, sending him crumbling to the ground, then turned to me.

He closed the distance between us. “You still think she’s alive.” His head cocked. “And if she is . . . you think she’ll still want you? You, who abandoned her on the island? The man who saved himself to let her suffer alone?”

It would have felt less violent if he’d struck me with his fists. I could offer up excuses in my defense, but I wouldn’t believe them any more than he would.

“I asked her if I should test your worthiness for her hand,” he said. “Perhaps if I had, she might still be here.”

I searched the barren field of his face for a sign, wondering if he’d seen Diem’s fate in Ignios’s thoughts, if he was toying with me to see what I might give him to reveal it.

“I will never be worthy of her,” I admitted. “No man could ever be. But no soul on this earth desires more deeply to deserve her than mine. I would do anything, give anything⁠—”

“Except your life,” he taunted.

“I’ve offered my life for hers countless times. If—when she returns, Kindred willing, I’ll do so again.”

His smile tightened. “Kindred willing.”

I felt a click against my leg, near my pocket. Then, from my chest, the peculiar feeling of something shifting into place, like a pin in a lock.

A gryvern’s wail split through the darkened sky. Ophiucae and I both looked up to see Sorae flee the palace with his gryvern in pursuit. Blood rained from gashes scattered over her body, but she was moving faster than I’d ever seen her.

“Xipherus,” Ophiucae shouted. His gryvern snapped to a halt. “We have more important targets.”