Page 72 of Burn of the Everflame

Beneath his glare, the truth of his fear smoldered, shouting without words: I cannot lose you again.

That, I understood. I could still feel the echoes of my terror at seeing Ophiucae’s blade against his neck.

“Alright,” I agreed, “but you have to help the healers. I don’t want some angry Descended taking revenge on the nearest mortal. I’ll be right here, where you can see me.” I held up the stew. “Eating.”

His jaw flexed beneath the coarse shadow of his new beard. With his humble clothes and unbound hair, he looked rugged and raw, a strip of leather torn along a jagged edge. Though the Luther I’d fallen for was pathologically clean-cut, I was enjoying this version of him, too.

I leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Our bodies responded like magnets, snapping together. Luther vibrated with a low, throaty noise I felt all the way to my bones.

I pulled back and theatrically shoveled a spoonful in my mouth. Mollified, Luther made his way to Maura wearing his most intimidating scowl, playing the part of scary bodyguard so perfectly, my forced smile was at risk of turning real.

After weeks of roots and leaves, the stew was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted, yet so rich it made my stomach turn. It seemed that way with everything about the world I’d come back to. I’d been so desperate to get home, and now that I was, everything felt too much.

I set down my bowl and closed my eyes, trying to drown out the grating noises of the busy palace grounds. Though I’d hated being alone with my thoughts on the island, I found myself strangely missing its quiet.

“Diem.”

I opened my eyes.

Doriel and Obaneryn stood shoulder to shoulder. The former looked fearful; the latter looked exhausted. Behind them, the healed Faunos ex-Queen seethed like a pissed-off wildcat. The sight of their collective misery did wonders for my mood.

“Give me back my Crown, you little rat,” she hissed.

“Faunos decided you didn’t deserve it.” I lounged back on my elbows, pointing to my feet. “Now be a good pet and kneel.”

She lunged toward me, but Obaneryn pulled her back. “If you have our Crowns, why are we still alive?” he asked.

I couldn’t bear to admit that I’d saved them, so I feigned a clueless shrug. “Maybe the Kindred are giving you a second chance to set a good example for your people.”

He gave me a dubious skim. “If we do, we’ll get our Crowns back?”

“Or we’ll get them back once she’s dead,” Ailani muttered.

“I’m afraid not. These Crowns will never grace your heads again. But if you’d like to test your theory, Ailani . . .” I conjured a swirl of sizzling light and flashed her a goading smile.

She slowly sank back. Ailani was a viper, but she wasn’t a fool. Without her Crown, she had no magic. Without her magic, she had no chance.

I glanced between her and Obaneryn. “Go home, both of you. Tell your people their new Queen has ordered them to welcome all mortals as equals.”

Obaneryn looked at the empty sky. “Where did our gryverns go?”

“I sent my gryverns to protect my realms.” I gave Ailani a pointed look. “And to enforce my orders.”

“How do we get home without them?” Obaneryn asked.

I smiled sweetly. “Maybe the Guardians will sell you a boat.”

He looked ready to let Ailani go and lunge at me himself.

“What of my fate?” Doriel asked in a quiet voice.

I rose and sauntered down the steps, holding their gaze. Under their cream-pale skin, Doriel’s throat gave a nervous bob.

“Give me your dagger,” I said.

They whimpered, backing away.

“Give me your dagger,” I repeated, lining my words with Umbros magic.