Heat of the Everflame (The Kindred’s Curse Saga #3)

Chapter 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

T he palace of Umbros had also been carved into the canyons, high above the city. A system of pulley-drawn lifts carried the Queen and her Centenaries up and down at their leisure, but Symond had gleefully informed us those were off-limits to foreigners.

Instead, we were forced to trudge up a seemingly endless set of narrow spiral stairs. By the time we reached the top, we were all panting for breath, our heads spinning and calves burning.

Unlike the perpetual night of the underground city, daylight spilled in through tall, narrow slits carved into the black rock walls. It was currently sunset, and thin streaks of orange-red sliced like bloody knives through the halls.

The floor was inlaid with gold-veined marble, and towering columns carved into the shape of dragons guarded each corridor. Elaborate, flame-lit lanterns hung from frescoed ceilings depicting scenes of debauchery. Pools of velvet cushions and golden carts bearing liquors and spirits seemed scattered at random, as if the palace’s residents might find themselves in need of a bed or a drink on a moment’s notice. The air was heavy with rich incense, languid music—and moans.

Carnal, orgasmic moans.

If I’d thought Umbros City was a den of indulgence, it was nothing compared to this. As Symond led me through the palace, the others following at our backs, each room we passed was filled with naked, writhing bodies engaged in pleasure in all its forms. The kind you smoke, the kind you drink, the kind you f—

Well, you get the idea.

“Do you like what you see?” Symond crooned in my ear.

“It’s really... something.” I cleared my throat. “Are they all Centenaries?”

“Not at all. Her Majesty is the skin market’s best patron.” He brushed his knuckles against my wrist and pinned me with his depthless black eyes. “She ensures her loyal guards can have everything—and everyone—they desire.”

“Not everyone they desire,” I said with a smirk.

He gave a throaty laugh. “Well, I do love the thrill of a chase. It’s such a rarity for me.”

“Given our history, I can’t help but wonder how willing your partners have truly been.”

He stopped short. “Such a vile thing is strictly forbidden. I would never —and if I had, the Queen would have made me rip out my own heart and hand it to her.”

“And yet you had no hesitation forcing yourself into my mind.”

He shrugged. “A simple prank. Thoughts are harmless.”

“They’re anything but harmless,” I shot back. “Our thoughts make us who we are. Violating someone’s mind is no better than violating their body.”

He sneered in a way that made me think I’d struck a nerve. “So what would you have us do, never use our magic?”

“Not without consent.”

He leaned closer. Luther rumbled a low warning behind us.

“Tell me,” Symond said smoothly, “did you ask that woman’s consent for what you did back there in the cave?” My eyes grew, and so did his smile. “You may have forced me out of your mind, but I could still read hers.” He looked me over. “So many unusual tricks you have up your sleeves.”

I swallowed. “Are you going to kill her?”

“That depends.” His hand slid to the curve of my waist as he brought his lips a breath from mine, and Luther’s rumble turned into a snarl. “What will you give me if I don’t?”

I trembled in place, wondering just how far I was willing to go to save the life of a stranger.

Symond threw his head back in loud, body-shaking laughter. “Blessed Kindred, you should see your face. You might have a point about not using our magic. Taunting you is much more fun when I have to guess what offensive name you’re calling me in your head.”

“Here’s a preview: You’re a prick.”

I punched his side, and he took the blow with a grin, then snatched my hand and threaded it back around his arm. “Her Majesty is going to love you.”

I scowled as we continued walking. “So you’ll let the Cardinal live?”

“I will. She received her punishment. What happened after is none of my concern.”

“What about Zalaric?”

“Why do you care? He betrayed you, even knowing it might cost you your life.”

I couldn’t answer. I shouldn’t care. Zalaric’s deceit could have cost us our lives—it still might. And yet, when I thought about what I’d seen beyond that strange misty curtain, it wasn’t outrage I felt, but pity.

“Will it cost me my life?” I asked instead.

The gleam in his eyes raised the hair on my neck. “That’s for Her Majesty to decide.”

We climbed another set of stairs leading to a circular throne room lined with ten arches that opened up to the sky on all sides. At the center, on a raised platform, sat a throne carved from dark jade that resembled a swarm of battling dragons. Concentric rings of black velvet cushions fanned out across the floor.

Symond released my arm. “Her Majesty will join you shortly. In the meantime, I’m afraid I have to take your bags.”

I clutched mine closer, remembering the jar of lavender flame. “Why? You have our weapons.”

“Do I?” He cocked his head. “Before you somehow pushed me out of your head, I saw you frolicking with the Guardians. How do I know you haven’t stashed one of their pesky bombs?”

Luther moved to intervene. Symond’s eyes shot to him and narrowed as he lifted his palm.

I rushed forward and toyed with the collar of Symond’s leather armor, feverishly fluttering my lashes. “Come now, Symond. We both know I don’t need a bomb to take you down.”

His gaze slid back to me. “You have a point. I’ll go down on you any time you like.”

I let out a vapid, girlish giggle that would have had Taran snorting loud enough to be heard in Lumnos, if only he weren’t glaring at me like I’d poured out his favorite whiskey.

Symond took my hand and pressed a kiss to my wrist. “My, you are delicious .” I tensed as his mouth worked its way up my arm—my elbow, my shoulder, my neck. Luther’s growls grew thunderous in the background. I held my breath as Symond stopped just below my ear. “I’m still going to take your bags.”

I huffed and pulled back, then shoved my satchel into his waiting hands. “I’m calling you a prick in my thoughts again, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“I could.” He chuckled and strolled to Luther, whose jaw was clenched hard enough to form diamonds, though not a muscle moved across his entire body as Symond threw an arm across his shoulders. “She is especially beautiful when she’s angry, isn’t she, Prince? I bet she’s a firecracker in bed. Not that you would know, of course.”

Luther didn’t answer—couldn’t, probably—but the rage boiling in his eyes said enough.

Symond laughed again and pulled Luther’s bag off his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her when you’re not around.” He clapped a palm hard against Luther’s hip. “ Very good care.”

Luther’s eyes closed. His face went bloodless, his body shuddering as if it might collapse.

Hard as it was, I held my tongue. If Symond thought he could drive a wedge between me and my Prince, perhaps I could use that to convince him to let Luther go.

The remaining Centenaries took the bags off Taran and Alixe, who were similarly frozen in place, and descended the staircase with Symond following behind.

“You’re just going to leave us here alone?” I called out.

Symond paused and glanced at Luther. “Hear that, Prince? She misses me already.” His laughter echoed as he walked out.

The moment the door shut, the Centenaries’ hold on the others dissolved. Alixe wasted no time checking whether the door had been locked—it had—then scouring the room for makeshift weapons or an exit.

Luther staggered forward and leaned his hands on the throne’s dais, his head hanging low.

I started toward him, then froze as Taran stormed past me—with Zalaric in his warpath.

Zalaric summoned shadows at his palms, but he didn’t attack. Even when Taran shoved him, sending him stumbling backward, and grabbed him by his robes to pin him against a column, still, Zalaric’s magic held back.

“You traitor ,” Taran shouted in his face.

“I owed you nothing. I’m a subject of Umbros.”

“Look in a mirror, Zal. Your eyes are blue, not black.”

My eyebrows flew. ... Zal?

“Taran, stop,” I said.

“You’re a Lumnos Descended,” he spat. “Your loyalty is to your terremère.”

“My loyalty is to myself,” Zalaric shot back.

Taran made a disgusted noise. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Yourself and your money.”

“Taran,” I warned. “Leave it be.”

“Tell me, how much did you sell Diem’s life for? What about mine? Did you haggle for a better price, or were we not even worth that effort?”

Zalaric’s hand fell limp at his side, his magic vanishing into wisps.

I looked to the others for help. Alixe was on the balcony staring over the side, and Luther was still doubled over near the throne.

“You don’t get to judge me.” Zalaric’s voice was soft but harsh. “You, who have never thought twice about where your next meal will come from.”

“At least I’d never sell a person’s life for a little gold. Especially someone I had just...” Taran’s throat bobbed, his anger faltering.

I rushed over and grabbed his arm. “I said leave it . Zalaric’s right. He owed us nothing.”

His glare shot to me. “How can you defend him?”

“I’m not. Or... I guess maybe I am, but—”

“And why are you flirting with that asshole Centenary?” He jerked his chin toward Luther. “Where’s your loyalty to him? ”

My cheeks burned hot.

Zalaric let out a short, surprised laugh. “Do you not see what she’s doing?”

Taran scowled at him, then at me.

Zalaric’s eyes rolled. “It’s a good thing that empty head of yours is so pretty, Tammy, because you—”

“ My name is Taran ,” he bellowed, throwing his fist forward into Zalaric’s face.

Only it didn’t hit his face.

At the last moment, Zalaric ducked out of reach, sending Taran’s fist colliding into a thick stone column with a fleshy, stomach-turning crunch.

“By the Flames,” I breathed. I reached for his hand. “Are you alr—”

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Zalaric taunted. “I’ve seen better punches from an armless newt.”

“Zalaric, stop ,” I hissed. “This isn’t—”

Taran launched himself forward, and the two of them tumbled to the ground in a flurry of fists. I debated intervening, but despite being half Taran’s size, Zalaric was more than holding his own. And he was smiling .

“Let them fight it out,” Alixe called out. “They’ll be fine.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head as I walked back to Luther. He was finally upright, now staring grimly at the Umbros throne.

“I think those two might kill each other before the Queen gets her chance,” I said, only half joking.

Luther’s chest rose in a long, slow breath as his hands squeezed into white-knuckled fists. “You gave me your word.”

Shit. He must have believed my ruse with Symond. “Luther, what you think you saw...”

“Was this always your plan?” His livid stare shifted to me. “Did you lie to my face, knowing you would do what you want anyway?”

I recoiled at the visceral hurt in his voice.

“Luther, Symond is not—”

“I don’t give a damn about Symond,” he snapped, “except that I’m going to rip his fucking hands off if he keeps touching you when you clearly don’t want it.”

I frowned. “Wait. You know that I don’t...?”

“You promised me, Diem. No tricks. No Umbros Queen. But you knew Zalaric had betrayed us, and you did nothing?”

Understanding washed over me, quickly shifting to panic. Then horror.

His eyes narrowed. “Or was it a betrayal at all? Did you two plan this together?”

“No,” I gasped. “I didn’t... it wasn’t—”

“Incoming,” Alixe shouted from the balcony.

A slow, repetitive thumping grew louder as a dark silhouette formed in the setting sun.

Alixe backed toward me. “ Gryvern .”

Luther’s posture switched dramatically. All hint of emotion cooled away. His spine snapped rod straight as he pushed me behind him and set his focus on the sky.

Taran looked over from where he was pinned to the ground with Zalaric straddling him. He set his jaw and shoved Zalaric off, jumping to his feet and striding toward us. At the last moment he paused, let out a quiet grunt, and doubled back. He grabbed Zalaric’s wrist and dragged him along.

“Stay behind us,” he muttered. He pushed Zalaric into my side and joined Alixe and Luther’s protective arc.

“You three do realize Zalaric and I are the ones with magic, right?” I asked. “It should be us protecting you.”

Alixe cracked her knuckles as Taran tied back his hair and glared, all three of them ignoring me.

Zalaric shot me a stunned look, and I shrugged.

As the gryvern approached, a door opened, and a flood of Centenaries marched in. Some were still in their caped armor, but others were in flowing, sheer robes that put their bodies on display. Several carried trays of fruits, nuts, and cheeses, while others carried goblets and jugs of wine.

Perhaps the Umbros Queen was planning to have a feast over our executions.

“Don’t fight back,” Zalaric warned. “She’s ruthless about protecting her reputation. Don’t insult or threaten her, Diem. Be quiet and polite and—”

Taran groaned. “We’re all gonna die.”

The Umbros gryvern landed on the balcony with a floor-rattling thud. It was larger than Sorae, with sleek, feminine lines and a graceful gait. Its wings and fur were a dark caramel hue, while its scales glittered like godstone. Its eyes fixed on me, two slitted pupils shrinking and growing as it studied me with wary curiosity.

I didn’t see the Umbros Queen at first, her body blocked by the gryvern’s wing.

But I felt her.

Her power was incredible. The intensity of her aura rivaled even Luther’s. It exploded through the room with a force that could only have been intentional and coated the air so thickly I seemed to inhale it with every breath, pulling it—pulling her —into my lungs, into my blood.

Two Centenaries ran forward. One dropped to all fours at the gryvern’s side. The other extended their arm, and a delicate hand with nails sharpened to points settled into their outstretched palm. A slender leg swung into view and set a high-heeled foot onto the other Centenary’s back, using him as a stepstool. She glided smoothly to the ground and sauntered, hips swaying, into the room.

Her beauty overwhelmed me as much as her power. She was sex in human form, a buffet of curves to satisfy the most insatiable lust. Long lashes brushed against high, rosy cheekbones, her pillowy lips swollen with a just-kissed flush. Ebony hair flowed unbound over her shoulders, curling at the dip of her ample hips. Despite her advanced age, her skin was flawless—and her tiny dress left a great deal of it to see.

Zalaric dropped to his knees and turned his gaze to the floor. The Centenaries did the same, but my three companions—bless their loyal, courageous hearts—remained standing.

“Well, that isn’t very polite,” she chided.

Behind her, the gryvern snapped its jaws.

“ Kneel ,” Zalaric whispered frantically.

“Listen to your friend,” Symond warned. “Kneel, or I’ll do it for you.”

“He’s not our friend,” Taran grumbled.

Luther rolled back his shoulders. “Force us if you must, but I only bend my knee willingly to Blessed Mother Lumnos and my Queen. And you, madam, are neither.”

Her scarlet lips curved into a smile.

The Queen strode toward me. The Corbois closed their ranks, shifting until their shoulders touched in an imposing wall of muscle. She paced slowly in front of them, back and forth, trailing a finger in a line across their chests.

“And if I told you that if you did not kneel, I would make you toss yourselves over the balcony and bash your lovely heads open on the canyon floor? What then?”

My stomach dropped.

“Then we will die with honor,” Alixe said.

Taran smirked. “I’ve always wondered what it felt like to fly.”

The room fell silent and lethally still.

Then, abruptly, the Queen began to laugh. She placed a hand on her chest. “Blessed Kindred, how faithful you all are. Lucky for you, I have a great deal of respect for loyalty to one’s Crown.”

Still chuckling, she turned and strolled toward her throne. “Fair enough,” she called out over her shoulder. “Unwilling it is.”

She snapped her fingers and the three Corbois slammed to the marble floor in forced supplication, knees bent and foreheads scraping the ground.

I sucked in a breath and shifted to face her. It was now just the two of us standing—two Queens, towering over their subjects. Would she try to make me kneel, too? Could she?

She sank into her throne and lounged against an armrest. The final rays of sunset gilded her in a wash of honeyed tones. Her legs crossed, exposing a smooth expanse of bare flesh that ran to her hip.

Her gaze settled on me. “Hello, Daughter of the Forgotten.”

I gave a subtle, but respectful, nod. “Hello, Umbros.”

“We’re not on Coeur?le, dear. You can call me Yrselle.” Her eyes flashed across the room. “But if I hear that name on anyone else’s tongue, I’ll feed it to my gryvern. Am I understood?”

Murmurs of “ Yes, Your Majesty ” rippled across the crowd.

I shifted my weight. “I apologize for my unannounced visit to your realm. After the attack—”

She waved her hand. “Yes, yes, I already know. Don’t bore me with details I’ve already plucked from your companions’ heads.”

“Then you know I did not come by choice. I’m only trying to get home.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She clicked her nails against the arm of her throne. “You’re in my realm. Your life is mine to take.”

My heart picked up speed. I flexed my fingers at my sides, conjuring gauntlets of shadow. “ If you can take it.”

Though already night-black, her eyes seemed to darken. The golds of sunset vanished as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, shifting the room to a palette of frosty twilight blues.

Careful , a feminine voice hummed in my mind. I cannot let a challenge go unanswered in front of my Centenaries.

My godhood snarled, begging to force her out, but I held myself back. For whatever reason, she was warning me. Guiding me.

“Or,” I said slowly, “perhaps I could offer you a... favor. In exchange for your mercy.”

Her smile stretched higher. “I might be open to that—if the favor is sufficiently interesting.”

I studied her for a beat. This felt like a game of words, a delicate dance whose steps were ever-changing. “Is there something you had in mind?”

“In fact, there is. That discussion is best had over wine, don’t you think?”

She waved a hand, and everyone kneeling slumped as if they’d been hanging from a rope that finally snapped. I realized with a start that she’d been forcing them all to kneel, even her Centenaries—an unnecessary show of power, just to prove she could.

The Centenaries rose as one and began lighting candles and taking up posts around the room, save for Symond, who stood by the throne with arms crossed. Those carrying refreshments crowded around the dais, contorting in odd positions to ensure every delicacy was within arm’s reach of their Queen.

The most scantily dressed among them flocked to her side. Two sprawled at her feet, stroking the lines of her legs. Another perched on the throne’s arm and combed her fingers through Yrselle’s hair. One particularly beefy man even wedged himself beneath her so she was sitting on his lap—a visibly aroused, very well-endowed lap.

Zalaric and the Corbois rose as well, the latter joining my side. Though Zalaric held his head high with his usual composure, I felt a pang of sympathy. He was alone in enemy territory, no ally in sight—just as he had been as a boy all those years ago.

A Centenary approached with a tray of wine. Taran, Zalaric and I accepted, while Luther and Alixe declined.

I studied the goblet, noting the way a pewter dragon twined its way up the stem. “Is a dragon your sigil? I’ve noticed them throughout your palace.”

“Very perceptive,” she said. “Did you know dragons feel every piece of gold in their hoard? If even a single one is taken, they know—and they take their repayment in blood.” She held my gaze as she sipped her wine. “I find that inspiring .”

“They are fearsome creatures, though I confess, I don’t understand them. With as much power as they wield, what use does any dragon have for gold?” I swirled my goblet. “Or any Crown, for that matter?”

“Power takes many forms. Even among the Descended, strong magic will only get you so far. Isn’t that right, Zalaric?”

He dipped his chin. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Zalaric has always been one of my favorites. He understands the importance of collecting every last coin.”

Taran snorted softly, and the Queen’s smile fell. I shot him a look, eyes wide in warning.

“I’ve watched him grow up here, you know.” She leaned forward, her tone markedly colder. “After your people scarred him and threw him away, I welcomed him. I gave him a home.”

Zalaric’s throat bobbed, his eyes dropping.

“You gave many a home,” I said. “Mortals, half-mortals, even Descended. An honorable thing, to open your arms when no one else will.” I lowered my chin deeply, hoping she saw the honesty in the gesture. “You have my gratitude—and my admiration.”

Mollified, she lounged back and shrugged. “Perhaps I should be thanking you. I could fill this room with the gold I’ve made off your exiles.” Her gaze drifted to Luther. “Or perhaps I should thank your handsome Prince.”

“I’ll thank him for you,” one of her attendants cooed, looking Luther over with a hungry gaze.

My eyes narrowed.

Yrselle smiled. “I don’t think the Lumnos Queen likes that suggestion. Best keep your distance, dear, or I’ll be down a Centenary.”

The attendant pouted. “But he doesn’t even want her.”

Heat rushed to my face, and hurt rushed to my heart. Luther glanced at me, and shame won out over pride as my eyes lowered to the ground.

Yrselle tutted. “ Want isn’t the problem, is it, Prince?”

Their stares met, and charged energy buzzed in the air between them. As the silence drew on and his nostrils flared, I wondered if she was speaking into his mind, as she had with me. The thought made me feel like a dragon watching someone touch their gold.

I cleared my throat loudly. “You spoke of a favor, Yrselle?”

“Ah, yes. The favor.”

She took a long drink, and her attendants’ hands began to roam. They wet their lips as their palms grazed hungrily over her bronzed skin, at times disappearing beneath the hem of her dress.

“You and I have a great deal to talk about,” she said, her voice taking on a husky lilt. “About you. About Emarion. About your parents.”

“My parents?” I straightened, stepping toward her. “What about them? What do you know?”

She arched her neck as the man beneath her ran his tongue along her throat. “I know more about them than they know about themselves.”

“How is that possible?” I took another step forward. Symond tensed.

The man beneath Yrselle shifted his hips. She closed her eyes and leaned back with a breathy sigh.

This was all getting very distracting.

“My mother—you know where she is?” I asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Is she...?” The words stuck in my throat, burning with the question I both did and didn’t want to ask. “Have the Crowns...?”

“Executed her?”

My hands trembled, and my wine goblet slipped and clattered to the floor.

If my mother was gone...

If I’d lost them both...

“She lives.” The Queen’s tone had softened. “As a prisoner of the Crowns, her execution requires a vote of six. Without mine, they have only five.”

I grabbed the edge of the dais and nearly collapsed with relief. Rustling, footsteps, and grunts rose around me.

“Take care, dear. If you come any closer, you’ll either have to die or join in on my fun.”

I looked up to see Centenaries surrounding me with weapons drawn. Symond was staring down from the dais, the point of his sword an inch from my nose. Behind me, the Corbois had been forced back down to their knees.

One of the attendants at her feet crawled forward and twirled a lock of my hair in her fingers. “I’d rather see her come than bleed.”

“So would I,” Symond said with a sly smile.

I raised my hands in surrender and took several steps back. The Queen nodded, and the Centenaries sheathed their swords.

“You said they need six votes to execute her—who else voted against it?”

“I am the only vote against it. Montios and Arboros have yet to respond, and your Regent has declined to vote until you return.”

I’d never been more grateful for Remis’s cowardice, though the news of the Arboros Queen’s silence left me uneasy. I had hoped she’d found a way to escape the Guardians. If they still had her...

Then again, if she did escape, her vote alone—or the Montios King’s—would be enough to sentence my mother to death.

I had to get my mother out of Fortos. Quickly .

“What is the favor you wish?” I asked.

Yrselle snapped, and the attendants around her pouted and moved away. She set down her goblet. “I want you to stay here as a guest in my palace. Only a few days—three at most.”

“ No ,” Luther gritted out.

The Queen looked at him, her expression flickering with something I didn’t understand. “I understand your objection, Prince, but it will have to wait. This is more important.”

“Why?” I asked, feeling like I was missing something vital.

“We have much to discuss, and I haven’t had a formal Crown visit in centuries.” She clasped her hands together on her knee. “We’ll make your visit official. I’ll even host a dinner tomorrow with all my Centenaries. You can return home on my personal boat the following day.”

“You’re not going to turn me over to the other Crowns? The Ignios King said I’ve been summoned—”

She made a disgusted sneer. “That edict isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. A Crown holds no authority over other Crowns. I don’t answer to them.” Her chin tipped down. “And neither do you. Until you return home, you and your people will have my full protection.”

I frowned. It was a generous offer. Too generous. “Why? What do you gain from all this?”

She smiled slowly. “You’ll see.”

I made the mistake of looking at Luther. He was staring at me, brows pinched, eyes pulsing with a near-rabid insistence. The betrayal he’d accused me of earlier was written all over his face.

You promised .

“And if I decline,” I asked her, “will you execute me?”

“No. But I may reconsider my vote on your mother’s fate.”

Defeat flooded Luther’s expression. He knew that was one risk I would never take.

I sighed heavily. “Alright. We’ll stay.”