Page 6 of Burn of the Everflame

Sorae whined softly.

“Whoever it was, Diem could handle them,” I insisted, unsure which of us I was trying most to convince.

“Luther, before you got to the island, something happened with the Crowns. The Ignios King—I think he killed the Umbros Queen.” Teller looked up at me, anguished. “What if he . . .” His voice choked. “What if Diem is⁠—”

“Stop.” My fractured heart thrashed against my ribs. “She’s alive. Don’t even think of saying otherwise.”

Suddenly, Sorae bolted upright. Her head swung toward the forest, a low rumble building in her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Teller asked her.

Then it hit me, too—a magical aura.

A strong one.

For the briefest, most beautiful moment, I allowed myself to believe it was her—that somehow Diem had escaped and found her way back to my side.

But my godhood knew her aura as deeply as my heart did, and when its chants grew enraged, the truth hit me like a firestorm. This wasn’t Diem.

A Crown was nearby.

And their aura was coming from camp.

2

LUTHER

“Remember Diem’s orders,” I told Sorae. “Keep Teller safe.”

She snorted in agreement.

Teller jumped to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“Teller . . .”

“If my mother is in danger, I’m not staying here.”

It was the one argument I couldn’t deny, not after I’d lost my own mother because I failed to protect her. “Do you have a weapon?”

He pulled a blade from his boot. It was small, but it was the dark grey of Fortosian steel—good enough to draw Descended blood.

“Keep behind me,” I warned.

As we made our way back, I palmed the compass in my pocket. Though I’d brushed off Teller’s worries, they had dug up a terror I’d been trying hard to keep buried.

The figure, clothed in white.

A blade, black and glittering.

Diem’s body, collapsing to the ground.

Voices taunted in the back of my mind: perhaps there’s a different reason the compass cannot find her.

I yanked my hand back and curled it around the Sword of Corbois’s jeweled hilt instead, sliding it free of its scabbard. If I couldn’t get to Diem, at least I could get to one of the people who put her there.

At camp, a quick skim confirmed the Crown had not yet arrived. With no way to sense Descended magic, the mortals were oblivious, going about their day as normal.

“Grab your weapons,” I shouted. “Archers, to the trees.”