Page 11 of Burn of the Everflame

“You think you can do that without Diem’s help? Ophiucae is no simple Descended. His magic . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Cordellia shrugged. “Weak and strong magic only matters to your people. It’s all the same to ours.”

“Luther’s mother was mortal, Dell,” Auralie scolded. “Our people are his people, too.”

Did Auralie Bellator just claim me as a mortal?

“If the Crowns are as desperate as Mireille says, they will come again,” Auralie went on. “Next time, they might come with more to offer than an invitation to talk.”

“And if they find a way to kill Ophiucae without our help—what then?” Cordellia fired back. “They’ll execute every mortal who helped him, then they’ll execute us for not helping them. Tell me, Prince, am I wrong?”

I flexed my jaw. Diem would never allow the Crowns to do that, and neither would I—but there would be plenty of vengeful Descended all over the continent who would happily take retribution into their own hands.

Emboldened by my silence, Cordellia took Auralie by the shoulders. “You have always said we could free our people with strategic moves instead of a long, bloody war. This is our chance to see that dream come true.”

Auralie sighed, glancing wearily at me. “Was there something you came here to say, Luther?”

I nodded. “Your voices have carried to the others. Your divide is beginning to spread.”

Both women swore in unison.

“We cannot lose more people,” Auralie said. “We must stay united.”

Cordellia pursed her lips. “Even united, our time is running out. Our people are restless, Auralie. They’re ready for change. If you don’t give them a fight, they’ll find one on their own.”

Auralie was silent for a long moment. Finally, she straightened her back. “We’re not accepting the Crowns’ invitation. We’ll wait until they offer us more.”

Cordellia’s face fell. She stared at me, silently begging for help from the unlikeliest of allies.

It was true that I shared her goals. I, too, wanted freedom for the mortals. I wanted a fairer, more equal nine realms. I wanted to confront the Crowns over what they’d done, and gods knew I wanted a fight.

But I would let it all burn for my Queen.

“We wait,” I agreed. “Until they bring a better offer—or until they let Diem go.”

4

DIEM

Well . . . I wasn’t dead.

My life might have become a crumbling, rotting refuse pile of a mess, but I was alive and breathing. I spat out the clump of waterweed I’d been chewing, wrinkling my nose at the acrid tang it left behind. It tasted like licking the underside of a horseshoe, but with no fresh water on the island and no rain for more than a fortnight, my options were down to bad or dead. Waterweed held just enough liquid to keep me on this side of the living.

Not that this was much of a life to live.

I grabbed another handful of tangled roots and ripped them from the ground, then shook them free of the soil that clung to their tendrils. I popped them into my mouth and grimaced at the grinding of sand between my teeth.

I hate it here, I thought for perhaps the thousandth time that day.

I forced myself to my feet and wandered west, snatching a spray of crimson flowers as I walked. In the early days, I’d searched every inch of this cursed place for something rarer than the fluffy red blooms that peppered the island, the source of the flameroot powder that had started this mess. After finding nothing, I’d told myself the man I planned to give them to wouldn’t care. He’d never been the type to ask for special treatment.

Oh, how I wished he had.

I whistled a song—lively and a little crude, something that I knew would bring a wide, toothy smile to his face.

“Did you miss me?” I asked him as I approached. “I know I said I’d leave you alone for at least a day, but I just can’t seem to stay away.”

The only answer was the wind whipping over the tall island grass.