Page 332 of Burn of the Everflame

I spun back to her, heart seizing in my chest. “Lily, if Ophiucae sees him, he’ll kill him.”

A horrible grief fell over her stare. “I know.”

I tried to stand, but the sleeping draught Teller had used on me was slow to fade. I crumpled to my knees as the world reeled around me. Alixe hauled my body against her side and dragged me toward the forest.

“I have to stop Teller,” I protested, feebly trying to push her away.

“You’re in no condition for that. And we have a bigger problem.” She glanced to her left, where a group of riders approached from the west. “The rest of the Unhoused Descended, I’m guessing,” she said. “I don’t think this half came of their own free will.”

My heart sank. “Alixe, Ophiucae got to the Montios Descended, too. He claims they’re headed to Lumnos.”

Her face drained of its color. “I’ll send a rider to warn them, but . . .”

She trailed off, and we shared a look of helpless anguish. Montios was closer to the palace than the Fortos border. Even at their fastest pace, there was no chance our rider would beat the Montios Descended. For all we knew, they were already there.

If they were, the final pocket of safety in Emarion had vanished. Every single realm was either emptied of its people or under siege. The future the Kindred had feared was dangerously close to coming to pass.

“Rest here until the draught wears off,” Alixe said, setting me at Lily’s feet. “When it does . . .” She fell quiet again. Alixe had gotten us this far, but we both knew the next part was up to me.

“Hold them off for as long as you can,” I said. “Retreat, if you must. Whatever it takes to keep our people alive.”

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on mine. We both seemed to sense what this moment signaled.

My relationship with Alixe had always been complex. I’d admired her from the start, but her insistence on hierarchy put distance between us, preventing the casual kind of friendship I shared with Taran and Eleanor. Though her loyalty to me as Queen had been faultless, I found her obedience hard to admire, considering the years of brutality the Royal Guard had inflicted on Mortal City under her supervision.

I’d been tough on her, sometimes unfairly so. I’d demanded more of her than anyone else—and more than anyone else, she had risen to the challenge. No matter how harsh my words, she never hid behind excuses. She used her shame as fuel to confront the wrongs she’d once defended, and she had gone beyond my orders, seeking out her own ways to use her titles for good. Descended like her made me believe that change could be more than just a dream.

And that gave me hope that this war was worth everything we’d have to sacrifice to win it.

“I believe in you, High General,” I said. “Let’s go save our people.”

She placed her fist against her chest with a deep, slow nod. I returned the gesture, then Alixe ran for the west. Lily helped me lean against her as we shuffled to the mortal healers.

“By the Undying Fire,” Maura said when we arrived, fussing around me. “What happened?”

“Winterwood,” I gritted out.

Her eyes flared in surprise. “Smelled or consumed?”

“Smelled,” Lily answered for me. “Only for a few seconds.”

Maura gave her a curious look that had Lily’s gaze taking a guilty drop to her feet.

“I need . . .” I winced, struggling to steady my spinning head long enough to pull the antidote from my memories. “Need . . .”

Maura leaned on her cane and gave a sidelong glance at the other healers. “Can someone help Her Majesty? What substance can counter the effects of winterwood?”

“A tea of dried sunrise splendor mushrooms,” a trainee said excitedly.

Another shook her head. “Not a tea. You have to grind them into a powder and have the patient breathe it in.”

“Ah, but sunrise splendor has no effect on Descended,” Maura corrected. “Their healing abilities cleanse it from the body too quickly. What must you use instead?”

“Maura,” I said impatiently, but she clicked her tongue to cut me off. She and my mother had always insisted that, to develop a healer’s calm in the midst of chaos, the best time for a lesson was when things were most urgent. Maura’s own wife could be dying in front of her, and she’d still use it as a chance to teach.

“Anyone?” she asked, looking around. The trainees hung their heads in defeat.

“Lumnos pine,” Lily said quietly. “The roots have healing qualities when they’re burned.”