Page 21 of Burn of the Everflame

Cordellia looked less convinced. Her tone turned sharp. “You swore this wasn’t about her.”

Auralie met Cordellia’s simmering stare without speaking. A moment later, she sighed and turned to Teller. “I’m sorry, my little scholar. You can’t.”

“I’m not a scholar,” he sniped. “Not anymore. I’m not little, either. And I’m not yours.” Auralie flinched as he barreled on. “That palace is the only home I have left. Keep me out of the meeting if you want, but I’m not staying in your camp one minute longer.”

He marched for the palace, flying past a bewildered Alixe. I set off in his wake as the two mortal women followed behind.

Alixe joined my side. “Is Teller alright? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice before.”

“He’s fine.”

Her mouth pinched at my curtness. “Lily will be happy to see you. Your father tried to persuade her into a betrothal to Lorris Benette. I think it was Remis’s attempt at a compromise—a few more years to do as she pleases until the boy comes of age. You’ll be happy to know she refused. She says she will not marry without Her Majesty’s consent.”

A surge of pride raced through me. My sister had never denied our father before. She had taken the wrong lessons from my example, determined to serve our family in whatever way she could—a selflessness Father had been happy to exploit.

But Lily was also keenly perceptive. If she conditioned my father’s request on Diem’s approval, she must have suspected that my father had the power to bring Diem home.

“The half-mortal children?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Safe,” she answered. “Your father kept his word to halt all executions.”

“Mortal City?”

“A few skirmishes. Nothing serious.”

“Zalaric?”

“Doing well. Taran convinced him to lay low until you and Diem returned.” She smirked. “Taran put Zalaric’s bed in his suite so he can keep watch. Zal complains about it daily, but when I offered him his own room, he declined.”

I almost smiled. In the midst of all this misery, there was at least one shining, beautiful thing. My closest friend had given his heart away, and at last he’d received one in return.

“Is Diem safe?” Alixe asked quietly.

My warmth chilled to frost. “She is not.”

My godhood’s chanting picked up volume—Find her. Free her. Save her. Touch her.—and magic twined in restless tendrils at my palms.

Alixe tensed and put a few steps of distance between us. We said nothing more until we reached the palace.

If the number of guards hadn’t alerted me to the Crowns, the auras would have. The presence of magic was thick enough to choke on and laced with bitter, malicious energy. The few times I’d been in the presence of several strong Descended in the past, I’d been able to feel the blurry edges where one aura ended and another began, but this was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. The air itself seemed to quiver with a single, impossibly powerful force.

I put a hand on Teller’s shoulder and held him back so Auralie could lead us inside the palace, followed by Cordellia. “If the Crowns sense a rift, they’ll pounce,” I said in his ear. “Don’t give them a reason to be in your life any more than they already are.”

He grumbled, but he steeled his face and obeyed.

A welcoming party of the most miserable sort was waiting to greet us: Doriel, Crown of Sophos, whose betrayal had cost Diem her freedom and Perthe his life. Mireille, Queen of Arboros, whose cowardice made it all possible. Ailani, Queen of Faunos, who looked like she wanted to be there even less than I did. Obaneryn, King of Meros, whose affable, charming smile I wanted to scorch right off his face.

And my father, Remis Corbois, whose crimes were so numerous I hardly knew where to start.

I ignored them all. I looked only at their hands, searching for twitching fingers, rolling wrists, or any other sign of conjured magic.

“You must be Auralie Bellator,” Doriel said smoothly, stepping forward and extending a hand. Their soft, androgynous features, slender build, and elegant cream-and-salmon suit gave them an innocuous air, though the ominous light cast by the circle of crackling sparks above their shaven head felt better suited to the devil I knew them to be.

Auralie glanced at Doriel’s hand, then back up, saying nothing.

Doriel held their stance—a foolish error, trying to wait out a Bellator. Auralie would age and rot to dust where she stood before she’d back down to a Crown.

“I trust your journey was pleasant?” Doriel asked. “No issues?”