Page 103 of Burn of the Everflame

I tensed at the prospect of being left alone with Luther. “No, that’s not⁠—”

“Good idea,” he interrupted. “We’ll keep working here.”

She gave me a brief salute, then set off for the royal hunting grounds where the Ignios refugees had set up camp, not far from the training field the Guardians had made their temporary home. Seeing mortals and Descended living so closely together, and in such similar conditions, left me equally hopeful and afraid.

“The Ignosians have been busy,” Luther said, eyeing me like he could see my nerves. “They made pens for livestock, and they’ve already started planting some crops.”

“They said they want to be self-sufficient, with no outsiders’ help. They refused when I offered supplies to build houses. I worry they think this is all temporary and they’ll be going home soon.”

“Who knows, maybe Ignios City can be saved.”

“What if it can’t? They can’t live in tents forever. Neither can the Guardians. I need to find all of them homes. They need trades so they can provide for their families. Schools for the children. And the people of Lumnos City, I need to help them rebuild. And the other realms . . .” I rubbed my eyes as my chest tightened and my breathing sped up. “They all need Regents and councils. They need soldiers, but the army is a mess. I need to fix that, too. And the half-mortals⁠—”

“Diem.” Luther took my other hand, squeezing them both. “You got the people of Ignios to safety. That’s what matters most. The rest will come in time, after the war.”

I flinched. “I can’t afford to wait that long. I don’t have time.”

“Once Ophiucae is dealt with, then you⁠—”

“I don’t have time!” The words burst out, shrill and choking, the cries of a dying animal desperate to escape its demise.

“You do,” Luther said calmly. “And you will not do it alone. Eleanor is managing Lumnos City. Nidara is doing a fine job looking after her people. Let Alixe handle the army, and let your mother lead the mortals. You have worked hard to earn the trust of so many. Let them help you.” His eyes danced between mine. “Let me help you.”

I didn’t answer—but I didn’t pull away.

I needed Luther. Even before the mating bond had tied my sanity to his touch, he had been the guardrails that held me in place every time the world sent me tumbling. But letting him get close now felt selfish. Isn’t that what I’d done to Henri, allowing his feelings to grow deeper because I refused to accept that our future was doomed? Only a monster would take what I needed from Luther and leave his shattered heart behind.

Then again, Ophiucae’s blood ran in my veins, and his vengeful darkness felt like it had taken root in my soul. Maybe monster was exactly what I was.

“What do I do?” I whispered, the question loaded with so much more weight than Luther could possibly know.

“Focus on what you need to stop Ophiucae—creating the godstone, building your army. Let your advisors worry about everything else.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, not when stopping Ophiucae might be the last thing I ever did, but it did give me much-needed focus. I looked at the smoking ashes of the chair. “You think emotion will help create the godstone?”

“Unless you can think of any other similarity between the Challenging and the day your father was killed.”

I let out a resigned exhale and unclasped Sorrow’s Edge from my belt, then unbuckled the Ignios fist I’d taken to wearing every day. I handed the harness over and started to back away, then stopped. I reached to my neck and pulled the golden pendant he’d gifted me from under my top, slipping the necklace over my head.

“You still wear it,” he noted quietly.

I pressed it into his palm. “Every day.”

His fingers curled around mine as I slowly, reluctantly, pulled them away.

With nothing left on me but my clothes, I put some distance between us. I shook out my hands, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of him on my skin. I blocked out the sounds of the nearby camps, the warmth of the spring sun, the breeze that tangled in my hair.

In my head, I edged toward the memory of the Challenging, the safer of my options. The voices of the arena crowd came back first: Jeering and judging when I was losing, shouting for Rhon Ghislaine’s blood when I was winning. How their loyalties shifted as easily as the sand on the arena floor. How angry that had made me.

Those emotions were easy to find—the outrage, the disgust at how far from their humanity the Descended had strayed. But every time I’d fractured, it was not my temper that struck the shattering blow. At least, not just my temper.

It was despair. Hopelessness. Defeat.

The feeling that, even if I won my war, it would not be worth everything the victory had cost. And the closer I crept to those emotions, the more I felt like that was a fire even a phoenix couldn’t survive.

I recoiled with a jerk, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

Luther set down my things, then unstrapped the Sword of Corbois from his back. He pulled the Meros compass from his pocket, tossed them both on the pile, and walked toward me. I stumbled back with a visceral urge to escape—not him, but everything he represented, the feelings I couldn’t let myself embrace.