Page 84 of Burn of the Everflame

No answer could have made me happier.

I moved to pull away, but Henri tugged me back. He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “Tell Luther that if he hurts you, he’ll answer to me.” He kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough to provoke a growl from Luther’s direction, then gave me an impish wink.

“Bastard,” I scolded, laughing. I shoved him away and started toward my Prince, whose eyes solemnly searched mine to make sense of what he’d just seen.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night in the dungeon?” Henri yelled out, though when I glanced back, his stare was on Luther, not me.

“I do,” Luther answered.

“You were an asshole, but you weren’t wrong.” Henri gave a wistful smile. “Don’t ever stop trying.”

Luther’s gaze slid back to me. “I won’t.”

Henri raised his mug in farewell, then walked away.

I stopped in front of Luther, awkwardly sipping my drink. He held out Sorrow’s Edge. “You left this behind.”

Reluctantly, I took the sword, flinching at the whispers that met my touch. Luther had attached it to a weapons belt that I quickly latched around my waist.

“How long were you outside the tent?” I asked.

“Not long. I had business that took most of the night. When I finished, I couldn’t feel your aura. I may have . . . overreacted.” He cleared his throat. “Panicked, a bit. I know you asked me to stay away, but I needed to be sure you were safe.”

“You used the compass,” I guessed. “You found me.”

His gaze burned hot. “I found you.”

We lingered in silence, neither of us able to look away. Our auras twirled and twined together, undaunted by the tension that kept our bodies apart.

Luther risked a step toward me. “Diem, my feelings for you have not changed. If yours have, I beg of you, tell me now. I will still stand by you as my Queen, even if⁠—”

“They haven’t changed.” The words rushed out like a breath, my heart answering before my mind could protest. “But I have.”

To my surprise, he looked as if he understood entirely. “So have I.”

“I need time,” I admitted. “Everything with Ophiucae and the Crowns, everyone fighting each other, and what I might have to do if—” I stopped myself. “It’s a lot to take on. I need . . .”

I need answers.

I need some other way to kill a Kindred.

I need a different fate.

I need you.

“ . . . I need more time.”

“Take as much as you want. I’m here however you need me, even if only to advise you.” He hesitated. “Unless you need space, too.” His jaw ticked. “From me.”

Two sides of me wrestled for control—the strong woman, who would sacrifice herself to spare him, and the weaker one, who couldn’t bear to let go. My mouth bobbed open and closed, the answer changing each time it neared my lips.

I was spared by my mother, who spotted me from across the camp. “Diem,” she called out, waving. “Oh, Luther, I’m glad you’re here, too. We have so much to discuss.” She frowned at my too-large clothes, then looked at Luther. “Did she get dinner last night?”

“She did.”

“And this morning? Has she eaten yet?”

He eyed me. “I’ll get her something.”