Page 66 of Burn of the Everflame

In my heart, I was a healer.

But healers didn’t win wars.

“Stay or go,” I snarled at him, “I don’t fucking care. But if you stay, you’ll obey me. And him”—I pointed to Lonard—“and her”—then Alixe—“and anyone else I see fit to appoint.”

I raised my voice, looking out at the crowd. “We are at war. If we lose, all of Emarion will pay the price. Every realm. Every person, mortal and Descended. If I have to, I’ll save this world by my gods-damned self, but I will not do it just to return Emarion to what it was before. I am your Queen, and this is my command: We will live together as equals.”

My voice dropped to a mutter.

“Or we’ll die as them instead.”

18

DIEM

Iwas almost to the palace doors when I saw my mother running toward me. “You’re back,” she cried. “You’re safe. You—you . . .”

She barreled into me, wrapping me up in her arms. For a moment, I was a little girl in the refuge of a mother’s embrace, certain that she would save me from whatever monsters lurked in the dark.

The comfort was fleeting. The moment her body hit mine, she went stiff, and so did I.

She held me at arm’s length and scowled down at my shadowy cloak as if she could see what lay beneath. “Diem, you’re far too thin.”

I laughed despite myself, though it came out harsh and angry. “I guess I missed the island’s buffet.”

She frowned. “Couldn’t you hunt?”

“Hard to do without a knife.”

“What about fish? And there were crabs beneath the piers⁠—”

“I didn’t know how close I could get to the water without the spell killing me. Wasn’t worth the risk to test it.”

She blinked. “What about plants?”

“Not many in season in winter.”

“There was plenty of waterweed. It would have worked as a last resort.”

“Most days, it was my only resort.”

Her eyes left my body and honed their scrutiny on my face. With every feature she took in, her frown curved deeper.

I backed out of her grasp. On the island, the knowledge that my mother had once been trapped there had been a source of comfort. It had made me feel closer to her to share that unlikely path.

Now, I was faced with the blunt reality that our experiences hadn’t been that similar after all. She’d gone in stocked with weapons and supplies. She’d had shelter, warmth, the ripe summer months, access to the sea, even another person to keep her company.

I’d had . . . me.

The loneliness that haunted me on Coeurîle suddenly felt like it had followed me home.

“You’re here now,” she said gently. “We’ll get you some food. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Normal.

I laughed again.

“You found her,” Luther said, jogging to join us.