Page 122 of Burn of the Everflame

“And the next year,” my mother continued, “when your autumn harvest was lost to blight, the villagers made sure your children were fed. We sent baskets of bread and rice to get you through the winter. Did anyone ever ask for repayment?”

“Well . . . no, but⁠—”

“And when your crop prices rose, we made no complaint, even though none of us had coins to spare. The Descended market turned you away, did they not?”

The woman’s gaze fell to her lap.

“I know things are hard,” my mother said, her voice gentling. “There’s not a mortal family in this realm that has enough food or money to weather every storm. The only way we survived is by taking care of each other.” She pointed to Marthe. “She helps you now because you have something she needs. What will happen when your usefulness to her runs out?”

The woman squirmed in her chair.

“Don’t be a fool, child,” Marthe warned. “House Hanoverre is very loyal to its friends.”

Zalaric snorted.

“Please,” I begged the woman, “you may believe I don’t deserve a voice, but the mortals do. If you cast this vote, they might never get to use it again.”

The woman was quiet for a long moment, the room silent as we awaited her decision. Her fingers grazed her neck and twitched each time they passed over the hidden chain beneath her clothes.

“Please forgive me,” she whispered, and my heart sank—until she snapped the chain from her neck. She slammed it on the table, then ripped the strands of jewels from her wrist. She lifted her leather pouch and dumped its contents on the table, breathing in a gulp of air as if her spirit had been equally untied. “I vote against.”

A smile exploded on my face. I’d almost forgotten this feeling—the joy of hope attained. My stormy spirit parted to let the bright rays of triumph shine through.

My eyes found Luther. The mating mark warmed on my chest as the feeling of his own happiness, and his pride in me, illuminated the bond in his fearsome glow. I pushed my heart out toward him like I’d always done with Sorae, wishing more than anything he could feel it, praying that hope might one day be realized, too.

I turned to the final mortal who had yet to speak, a floppy shoelace of a man known for bartering town rumors, only a fraction of which were ever true. I’d last seen him two weeks after my mother’s disappearance, when Henri had to drag me away before I broke the man’s nose for claiming she’d left the realm with a handsome Descended man.

Turns out he’d been right about that, after all.

His vote would decide my council’s fate, and my hope grew at the certainty of what it would be. He was no stranger to Descended cruelty. The late King had ordered his cobbler shop burned to the ground for serving clients in Lumnos City without royal consent. His family had lost everything. He of all people would never support Marthe’s plan to⁠—

“I vote in favor.”

30

DIEM

Iblinked.

Shook my head, as if denial might make it untrue.

My mother pelted the man with harsh words and accusations, but as I stared in dumbfounded shock, my eyes settled on a strange place: his boots.

Nothing remarkable on the surface, the same you’d find in any mortal home. But they were clean—not a fray in the stitching, nor a scuff on the soles. And his hands were covered in the kind of blisters and precise little cuts only earned from hours of meticulous work.

“They bought you back your business,” I murmured—more to myself than anyone else, given the uproar his vote had provoked. Somehow, he heard it, his confirmation in the shame that stared back.

Two weeks.

That’s how long it had taken the Twenty Houses to buy back their power. Two weeks to undo everything I’d fought so hard to create.

Two fucking weeks.

From the second the Crown appeared above my head, I knew I was ill-equipped to wear it. What could a young mortal healer possibly know about leading a realm? But never had I felt this small, this pathetically out of my depth.

“That’s eight votes,” Marthe declared, practically bursting at her withered seams with glee. “The proposal passes. Diem is off the council.”

“Guards,” Garath yelled, “escort her out.”