Page 82 of Burn of the Everflame

“You told me not to go.” He shrugged. “And Lana wanted to stay. She doesn’t trust Vance, either. Said his people aren’t real Guardians.”

“So you and Lana are still . . . ?”

“Engaged now.” His focus darted around, briefly touching on me before hurrying away. “She’s pregnant. Due in the fall.”

I stilled, waiting for a stab of jealousy, but all I felt was relief that he’d found the life that he wanted and I couldn’t provide.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Your father must be thrilled to have a grandchild on the way.”

“I haven’t told him yet. Actually, we, uh . . . we haven’t told anyone. Lana wants to wait until she’s further along.” A guilty smile toyed at his lips. “It’s a hard secret to keep.”

“Understood. I’ll keep the news to myself.”

The silence turned awkward, both of us looking at our hands but neither of us moving to leave.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when I found out, my first instinct was to tell you.” I frowned, and he bristled. “Not to upset you, I swear. I’ve thought a lot about everything you said, and you were right. You and me, we were never going to work. And Lana and I just fit, you know? We both want a big family with lots of children. She wants to keep working as a healer, so I’m going to take on fewer deliveries to other realms, help out more here in Lumnos. She’s a real good influence, keeps me out of trouble. And we’re both . . .” His voice trailed off.

Mortals.

A dark laugh nearly escaped at the irony. When I’d first realized I wasn’t mortal, the knowledge that I would outlive Henri had broken my heart.

As it turned out, if the heartstone had its way, Henri was going to outlive me.

“I love her,” he said. “Different than the way I loved you. But . . . better, I think. Better for me.”

“I understand,” I said.

And I did. I’d loved Henri in my own way, but it was nothing like the profound, heart-owning love I had for my Prince. Luther wasn’t just the man I wanted—he was the person who made me the best version of me I could be.

I hoped I was that for Luther, too. I had watched his barriers crumble, made him tease and smile and laugh, urged him to embrace parts of himself he spent a lifetime forced to hide. He’d begun to imagine a future for himself filled with so much more than duty.

And what will become of that future when I die?

“You’re going to make an amazing father,” I forced through the burning in my throat. “Though I’m not sure Lumnos is ready for a mob of tiny Henris terrorizing Mortal City.”

His slanted smile broke free in full. “I can’t wait. I hope the first one’s a girl so she can boss around all her little brothers.”

My own smile began to crack. “That is such a Henri Albanon thing to say.”

He laughed. “This is why I wanted to tell you first. Even with all the shit between us, I knew you’d be happy for me.” He looked down at his mugs, then held one out. “Here. Lana’s checking on the wounded soldiers, so I came to bring her tea. This one’s coffee. I know how you get in the mornings without it.”

I took the mug and indulged in a sip, sighing happily as the warm liquid cut through the morning chill.

Henri’s eyes darted over me. “You look different.” One brow rose. “Did they not have food where you were?”

“No. They didn’t.”

He frowned. I could tell he was waiting for me to explain, but that was a story I wasn’t ready to share.

He suddenly leaned in with a mischievous smirk. “Remember that time we snuck into the bread shop to steal the chocolate buns old lady Poincar was making for a Descended party?”

I groaned. “How could I forget? We had to bribe Teller to convince her it was a pack of wild animals that got loose from Faunos.”

“He made me hide in the trees and make monkey sounds.” Henri beat his fist on his chest and let out a string of shrieks and hoots that sounded more like a dying bird.

A loud laugh burst out of me—the first moment of joy since I’d returned. Henri always had a sense for when I needed to bury my troubles in jokes.

An odd, uncomfortable twang tugged at my chest. Henri’s smile died as his gaze shifted over my shoulder. When I turned, I saw Luther watching us, just out of earshot. Though his expression was flat, I felt the surge of his emotions, courtesy of the one-sided bond.