Page 43 of Burn of the Everflame

Her features tightened at Diem’s name, but she didn’t answer.

Ophiucae’s men surged forward and clashed with the soldiers at the exterior gate. Immediately, our guards began to fall. Ophiucae’s shield was strong, even more than it had been in Sophos. Too many of his soldiers—and too few of ours—carried godstone weapons that carved through our defenses like butter. It made us look helpless, and it made them look invincible.

For a gut-wrenching moment, it looked like the palace would be breached in a matter of seconds.

Beside me, Sorae’s muscles twitched beneath her skin, her pupils black and wide. Lumnos was the only home she’d known for centuries. Even without Diem here to protect, she looked troubled at the prospect of watching it fall.

“Go,” I told her.

The sun cast a rainbow gleam over her dark scales as her focus shifted to me. A sapphire glow built with a rumble in the back of her throat.

“Protect the palace.” My chest burned. “It’s what she would order.”

A sadness seemed to pulse from within her before igniting into a monstrous rage. She shifted her weight onto her haunches, then launched into the air. Her shrill howl was swallowed up by the pale blue flames that shot from her jaws. Ophiucae’s shield crystallized into a wall of ice, effective at protecting his men from her dragonfyre but equally effective at blocking their progress. She took a sharp bank, targeting the rear to create a rift in their lines.

I yelled for Alixe, but she had already spotted the opening and moved to exploit it. She thrust a palm toward the sky to drape Sorae in magic that cloaked her from sight while using the other hand to cast a false illusion of the gryvern approaching from a different direction.

Though Ophiucae’s shield could sense the deception, his men couldn’t. They saw a wall of ice on one side and a fire-breathing beast on the other, and they panicked, scrambling in every direction.

A peal of laughter—fucking laughter—pulled my attention to the palace steps, where the Crowns were watching the fight unfold from safety. Even that piece of shit Ignios had found a pair of guards to load him in a chair and carry him outside to see the show.

“What are you waiting for?” I roared from the balcony. “You’re the most powerful Descended here. If you won’t defend your people, why should they defend you?”

Their amusement faded as they exchanged guilty looks, yet none moved to join the soldiers.

I glared at Sophos. “You owe my Queen a life debt, Doriel. Get on your damn gryvern and fight.”

Their expression hardened. “Vexes, come,” they shouted into the sky. A plump, slow-moving creature flew in from the forest and landed long enough for Sophos to mount. Meros called his gryvern and joined them, then Faunos and Arboros. Ignios held back, demanding his guards carry him back inside and barking orders for Tybold to keep anyone from following.

“He’s got days to live, and still Ignios puts his life first,” Auralie muttered. “The Crowns don’t deserve our help.”

I cocked my head. “Auralie, are you certain of your choice?”

“You defend them now, after all they’ve done?”

“No. It’s just not what I expected from you, that’s all.”

“Because you think me weak?”

“Because you raised the most compassionate person I’ve ever known.” My palm found my heart, an instinctive salute to my Queen. “If Diem were here, she would be the first in battle, truce or not.”

With the help of Alixe and Sorae, the Crowns succeeded in pushing back a large swath of Ophiucae’s men, but not all. Some had fought their way through, and neither the Emarion Army soldiers nor the Lumnos Royal Guards were experienced at battling such impervious shields. The enemy advanced with frightening speed and a trail of dead bodies.

My fingers inched toward my sword.

“Why haven’t you joined Ophiucae?” I asked her.

“I don’t trust him.”

“More than you distrust the Crowns?” She glowered in silence, so I pushed a bit harder. “What’s the real reason?”

She chewed on the answer as if testing its taste to decide whether to spit it out. When she answered, her voice was strangely small for a woman so mighty. “When I became pregnant, I knew I would do anything for Diem. I’ve made mistakes as a mother, but everything I’ve done, everything, has been for my children—to give them a future they can be safe in. Andrei felt the same way. Diem wasn’t his blood, but he . . .” Her voice faltered.

I set a hand on her shoulder. It felt like a lie to comfort her over a death I felt so responsible for. A loss I’d sworn, and failed, to prevent.

“I saw him with Diem while you were away,” I said. “It was clear how deeply he loved her.”

“I thought Ophiucae was the same. He and I spoke of getting off the island and making the world better for our child. Then Diem was born. Instead of protecting her . . .” Her pain heated to fury. “He held her tiny body and put a blade against her skin. He wanted his freedom. Everything else came second.” She pointed to the mass of gryverns swooping through the clash. “I have much to criticize the Crowns for, but I don’t believe they’ll kill their own people to save themselves. Around a man that will . . . no one is safe.”