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

Chapter 34

Chapter

Thirty-Four

“ I don’t want to be Tiffany anymore.”

I stared down at Taran, hands propped on my hips. Morning had come and he was still dozing in my suite, clutching the bundled-up blanket in his arms and murmuring gibberish.

“Taran,” I sang brightly. “Good morning.”

“You want me to put that where? ” he mumbled.

I crouched at his side and gently pushed his arm. “Time to wake up.”

“Zal, that tickles!” His eyes shot open, his pupils dilating before fixing on me. “Oh—uh, Queenie. Hi.”

“Hi. You fell asleep in my room. I think it was all that wine you swore to Alixe you didn’t drink.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” I grinned. “You were talking in your sleep.” My grin spread further. “About Zalaric.”

His smile twisted into a scowl. “Must have been a nightmare.”

“Mmhmm.” He sat up, and I perched beside him. “Taran, did something happen between you two yesterday?”

He sighed heavily and scraped a hand down his face. “After you went to the inn, he introduced Alixe to a weaponsmaster he knew. She wanted to learn some technique from the guy, so Zal and I wandered off for a while, and we, uh... talked. Once he stopped making fun of me, he turned out to be a pretty good guy.” He grunted. “Or so I thought.”

“He is a good guy. Zalaric didn’t want to betray us, Taran. He didn’t really have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he snapped. “You sound just like Aemonn.”

I flinched. Coming from Taran, that was a deep blow. I wasn’t sure there was anyone he hated more.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that.” He hunched forward, forearms on his knees. “I guess you’ve heard the rumors about our father.”

I nodded. Eleanor once told me Taran’s father had been suspected of violently abusing his sons, but after their healing abilities manifested, no one knew for sure.

Taran’s voice got quiet. “I used to beg Aemonn to protect me. He was older, he could heal. And he had his magic.” Taran’s knuckles blanched. “But he never would. He said we had to be tough, show Father we could take it. He said we didn’t have a choice. That’s bullshit—he had a choice. He just chose Father.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Taran. You should have had someone to look out for you.”

He shrugged, though he laid his head against mine. “Luther did. He’s my real brother, in all the ways that matter.”

My chest warmed with a swell of emotion. Of course Luther had protected Taran. He protected everyone—that was who he was.

“Can I say something you don’t want to hear?” I asked gently.

“Let me guess—you’re going to say ‘ Zalaric isn’t Aemonn, and you shouldn’t hold your issues with your brother against him ’?”

“Well, I wasn’t, but now that you mention it...” He groaned, and I nudged him until he looked at me. “Aemonn was a victim, too. And he was a child, just like you.”

“But he grew up,” Taran shot back. “After everything we went through, he became Father’s pet, like it never happened.”

“I worked with patients in similar situations. Children hurt by parents, wives hurt by husbands. Sometimes their reactions didn’t make sense to me. Sometimes it even made me angry. Wounds take many forms, and not all of them are physical. Healing from a trauma like that can be...” I sighed sadly. “...complicated.”

I squeezed his arm. “You have every right to feel the way you feel. No one is owed your forgiveness, not even Aemonn. But you have so much love and kindness in that big heart of yours... maybe Aemonn needs you to be the kind of brother to him that he wasn’t strong enough to be for you.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“And also—Zalaric isn’t Aemonn, and you shouldn’t hold your issues with your brother against him.”

He let out another loud groan and stood up, grabbing me off the couch and throwing me over his shoulder. “That’s it, I’m finding a balcony to toss you over.”

I squealed with laughter and beat my palms against his back in protest as he marched me to the door of my suite and pulled it open.

“Morning.”

I stilled at the sound of Luther’s voice.

“You look like shit,” Taran said. I wriggled to get free, but he held me in place. “Did you get drunk without me?”

“Hardly. I’m still recovering from the last time I joined you for a night out.”

Taran barked a laugh.

“Hello?” I called out, squirming in his grasp.

“Cousin, do you mind putting Her Majesty down?” Luther asked. “As much as I’m enjoying this view, I’m rather partial to her face.”

Taran slid me off his shoulder and deposited me on the ground. I whacked my palm against his arm and glared at his smirk, then turned—and froze.

Luther looked terrible .

He was slumped against his doorframe, his head drooping with the effort of staying up. Stringy, rumpled hair had matted to his forehead. The dark circles beneath his eyes were stark against his sallow skin, which sagged from his bones like melting wax.

Even at his lowest, Luther had always burned with a spark from within. The man staring back at me now looked hollow. A candle blown out.

“Good morning, my Queen.” He smiled, but it was all wrong.

I must have looked like a trout, staring with large eyes and an open mouth, no words coming out.

His focus shifted to Taran. “Could I have a word with Her Majesty alone?”

Taran threw an arm around my neck, planting an obnoxiously wet kiss on my temple. “Thanks for the sleepover, Queenie. It was a night I’ll never forget.” He winked at Luther and clapped a hand on his shoulder before strolling away with a laugh.

Luther grimaced and braced himself against the wall.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

He straightened with some effort. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

I frowned. He’d slept most of yesterday, and a full night of rest both days prior. After our time on the road, the last few nights had been a luxury.

“I left some food for you,” I said.

“I saw.” He shifted his weight. “Thank you.”

“We missed you last night.” I took a step closer. “ I missed you.”

He hung his head and closed his eyes, allowing the silence to hang for a painfully long moment. “Diem, we need to talk.”

“I know,” I blurted out, all my feelings suddenly bubbling up in my chest. “I agree.”

“I wanted to wait until we were back in Lumnos—”

“What happened yesterday—I didn’t plan it, I swear. In the tunnels, I saw—”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s something more important.”

“It does matter. I don’t want to keep things from you. We promised each other brutal honesty.”

Luther grimaced. “ Fuck .”

I straightened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He finally looked up at me, his face the portrait of agony. He took a stiff step forward and raised a hand, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing my face, as if he feared my touch—or his own.

I placed my hand over his and pressed it to my cheek, surprised—and a little alarmed—at the fiery heat of his skin. I slowly closed the distance between us. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

He shook his head, his forehead falling to mine. “Diem,” he breathed. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Before I could answer, a cheerful whistling cut through the air.

We both went still.

“Well look at that, if it isn’t just who I was coming to see.”

Luther deflated against me.

With reluctance bordering on despair, I pulled out of his arms, then glowered down the hall. “I thought this wing was for our private use.”

Symond strolled out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets. His dark trousers were skintight against his slender legs, his silk shirt unbuttoned to his waist. “I come bearing a message from Her Majesty. Nothing in this realm is private from her.”

“What do you want?” Luther snapped.

“From you? Nothing. From her?” He ran his hand along his bare chest. “I have a few ideas. Would you like me to show you again, Prince, or did you get enough of that yesterday?”

Luther lunged unsteadily toward him. I threw myself in the way, gently nudging him back.

“You’re an ass, Symond,” I muttered.

A sinfully arrogant smile hooked his lips. “Her Majesty wishes you to join her for an early lunch.”

“Fine. I’ll collect the others and we’ll be down in an hour.”

“The invitation is for one, and I’ve been sent to retrieve you immediately.”

I threw him an annoyed glare. “Can’t it wait?”

“Her Majesty waits for no one. Even Queens.”

I glanced back at Luther, who looked one snide comment away from turning Symond into a rug. I lightly touched his chin to pull his attention back to me. “Can we discuss this after lunch?”

He nodded stiffly, though his expression was screaming no .

I hesitated. “If it’s really important...”

“Just go.” His glare sharpened on Symond. “Touch her again without her consent, and mark my words, I’ll take you down with me.”

Symond chuckled and extended his arm. “Your Majesty?”

I gave Luther an apologetic glance before laying as little of my hand as I could on Symond’s forearm and following him down the hall.

As we turned out of the corridor, I cast one last look over my shoulder. Luther was still waiting, still watching. The darkness in his eyes lingered in my thoughts even after he fell out of view.

“He’s a real ray of sunshine,” Symond quipped. “I can see why you’re so in love.”

My heart tripped and tumbled across the floor. “Love? I... I haven’t—”

He grinned. “No? Hmm. My mistake.”

I swallowed down the massive lump that had formed in my throat. “Leave him alone. We’ve been through a lot the past few days—which you very well know.”

“But I’m having so much fun.”

I shot him a scowl. “How did you get so...”

He glanced back to confirm Luther was out of sight, then pulled me closer. “So charming? So handsome?”

“So gleeful at other people’s misery.”

His smile tightened. “I’m a Centenary. We can read each other’s minds, and we’re allowed to be as wicked as we want. In a world like that, you strike first or you get struck.”

“You can all read each other’s minds?”

“The strongest can shield their thoughts from the weakest, but most of us are equally matched.”

“What about the Queen?”

“No one can breach her shield. Not that anyone would dare try.”

I hummed thoughtfully. “It must be difficult never having any privacy, even in your own mind.”

“On the contrary. It’s quite nice never having to lie.” He leaned his face to mine. “Unlike your Prince, brutal honesty is all I know.”

I gave him a withering glance, though I couldn’t deny there was something liberating about the idea of living without secrets and never having to hide any part of who you were.

Symond turned me down another hallway, this one notably more extravagant. “We have to make one small stop.”

“I thought the Queen waited for no one?”

“She doesn’t.” He eyed me head-to-toe. “But she also insists on proper dress.”

“What’s wrong with my—”

I paused and looked down. My stolen linen clothing was wrinkled and stained with flecks of blood, the hems dusted with dried mud. Holes dotted my scarf from where I’d partially burned through it in Ignios.

“You’re a Queen,” Symond chided. “Best to look like one.”

My cheeks flushed. In so many ways, I was still a poor-born mortal at heart. I had not yet grown used to the idea that anyone cared how I looked.

Symond led me through a series of corridors to a lamp-lit room lined with gowns and glittering baubles.

“What is this?” I asked, gazing around in awe.

“Her Majesty’s wardrobe.”

I nearly choked. “Are you mad? I can’t take her clothing.”

“It’s better than insulting her by showing up in rags.”

“You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?”

He laughed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Believe me, you don’t get to my position without learning what the Queen will and won’t tolerate.”

I turned and let my eyes wander. There were enough gowns here to clothe every person in Lumnos, with accessories to match. I wondered if Yrselle even bought them, or if the cloth market vendors simply showered her with gifts to stay in her good graces.

“Does that mean you also know what the Queen wants from me?” I asked, running my hand along the shimmering fabrics.

“I don’t. Honestly, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”

“Are you telling the truth, or are you taking advantage of someone you can finally lie to?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

I peered over my shoulder and studied his smug expression, looking for the lie. Oddly, my godhood stirred, and I felt a sudden certainty he was telling me the truth.

I turned back to the gowns, grabbing a white gossamer frock that I hoped was too plain for the Queen to remember owning. I gestured for Symond to turn his back, and though he rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion, he obliged.

“Do you at least have any theories on what she wants?” I asked as I disrobed.

“Now you’re trying to get me killed.” He was silent for a moment. “I know she thinks you’re valuable somehow. But don’t get any ideas—your friends are not, and you’re not so important that she’ll spare them if they step out of line.”

I walked to a mirror and stepped into the gown. “Valuable how?”

“Whatever that riddle she told you means, she spends a great deal of time thinking on it.” He paused again. “Her Majesty has been Queen for many years. She survived the Blood War. I don’t think she desires to see Emarion have a second one.”

A knot of worry formed. If Yrselle was determined to avoid war, she might not be the ally I’d hoped for.

My gaze caught on a pair of eyes in the mirror—gleaming, lust-filled black eyes devouring the sight of my exposed back.

He grinned. “Couldn’t resist.” He kicked off the wall and strode toward me, then took the back of my dress in his hands. His knuckles brushed my skin as he drew up the fastening.

Symond leaned in, his breath hot against my neck. “I would say the Prince is a lucky man, but...”

Our eyes met in the mirror.

Abruptly, he turned for the door. “We’re late. Leave your clothes here, I’ll have them sent to your room. Or maybe burned.”

I grabbed a pair of silk slippers and clumsily slid them on as I scrambled to catch up.

“That dress is a lovely choice,” he said. “You look ravishing.”

“You’d say that to anything that breathes, Symond. I’m not sure the bar is even that high.”

He gasped in mock offense. “I’m hurt, Your Majesty. I have quite exacting standards for my partners.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Then what exactly is it you’re attracted to?”

“Power.”

He stopped in front of a grand set of dark-stained oak doors carved with the Queen’s signature dragons, then pushed them open and swept inside. “May I present Her Majesty, the Queen of Lumnos.”

I took in a deep breath and walked inside. Yrselle was seated at the head of a long table laden with platters of food. A host of fawning Centenaries crouched around her, feeding her berries and pawing at her skin.

“Diem, darling, come join me,” she called out, gesturing to a chair beside her.

I took my seat while side-eyeing her entourage. They seemed oblivious to my arrival, entirely fixated on her pleasure. “Are they always like this?”

She cast them a surprised glance, as if she hadn’t noticed them until I brought it up. “Only when they’re not on duty. We take our work and our play very seriously here.” She leaned forward and smirked. “Most of them are as high as the clouds.”

I looked closer—though it was hard to see with their black irises, several indeed had blown pupils and glassy eyes. “And this is... by choice?”

“If I wish to bend someone to my will—” She tapped her temple. “—I don’t need drugs to do it.”

Yesterday had been reminder enough of that.

She flicked a wrist, and the Centenaries scattered to the exits, taking Symond with them. Her eyes raked over me. “There’s something about your appearance today. Something that disturbs me.”

My blood froze. I wrapped my hands over my chest in a pathetic attempt to cover up the borrowed gown.

“Ah. Now I see.”

I braced for impending death.

“Your Crown is missing.” Her head tilted. “That will not do. We are Queens, dear. We must look the part.”

I absently touched my forehead. I hadn’t worn my Crown since escaping in Arboros. It had been nice to walk the markets unnoticed and feel somewhat normal, even though my life was anything but.

I reached in and immediately sensed the spark of divine magic I’d tucked away. It was easier than expected—my body seemed to recognize it as something foreign, something not entirely mine .

I pulled it up through my chest and throat, up to the top of my head, until a warm heaviness settled on top of me—a glowing reminder of the burden that lay on my shoulders.

Yrselle’s eyes fixed on the space above my head and grew in size.

“ Incredible ,” she breathed.

I frowned. Surely she’d seen the Crown of Lumnos before. “Is something wrong?”

Her gaze snapped to mine. “Not at all. You wear it so well.” She lounged back in her chair. “My dress looks lovely on you, too.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. Symond said—”

“I’ll have a few more sent to your room. Or do you prefer to select them yourself?”

“No! No... I trust your expertise.”

She nodded approvingly and gestured for me to eat.

“How did you find me?” I asked, loading a plate with fluffy whipped eggs and a ham gleaming with glaze. “I’m guessing Zalaric’s confession wasn’t really news to you.”

“No, it wasn’t. I told him nothing happens here without my knowledge. I tell everyone, and still, the fools think they can deceive me. He’ll have to learn the hard way.” She stabbed her fork into a roasted tomato. “Shame. I quite enjoyed him.”

My stomach dropped. Maybe Zalaric wasn’t as safe here as he thought.

“How is it that you’re able to know so much with only one hundred guards? Can you read everyone’s minds from here?”

She laughed. “Well I can’t go revealing all my secrets, can I?” She grabbed her butter knife, then reached for the bread. “For you, I suppose I can share one tiny piece. You’ve felt the Forging magic, yes? When you released my representatives at your ball?” She paused, and I nodded. “That magic runs through everything in the realm. Every plant, every creature. Even the stone. When you’ve been Queen as long as I have, you learn how to use it to your advantage.” She shook the knife in my direction. “Though your spectacle at the coronation has made that more difficult than it used to be.”

“You knew what was going to happen with the heartstone, didn’t you? I remember—you were the only one who wasn’t surprised.”

“Do you know what I remember? You pointing and blaming me when everything went wrong.”

I cringed.

Yes. I had done that.

She popped a piece of bread into her mouth. “You’re lucky I don’t care what the rest of those nitwits think of me.”

“Why did you vote against them to save my mother?”

She chuckled. “It made them furious. That would have been reason enough for me.”

I arched a brow. “Is that the only reason?”

“No. Your mother has a role to play in what’s to come.”

“And what is that? What’s to come?”

Yrselle didn’t answer. She leaned forward and lifted up a porcelain kettle. “Tea, dear?” She filled my cup before I could answer.

“Did you know my mother? When she came here to Umbros, did you read her mind? Or was it when you came…” I paused, my head tilting. “Wait… did you come to Lumnos? The woman I saw looked—” I glanced at her regal gown and curvy body. “—not like this.”

The corners of her eyes creased slightly. I felt a tingling buzz between my temples and the scratch of sharp nails on my mind.

Are you sure? her voice crooned in my head.

I blinked, and suddenly her skin was wrinkled and spotted with age, her shoulders hunched and draped in tattered fabric—the old crone I’d seen in Paradise Row on Forging Day.

“Appearances can be deceiving, child,” she croaked, her voice sounding much older and weaker.

I blinked again, but the illusion persisted. My godhood jerked unhappily at the mental invasion.

Fight .

I yielded to the voice ’s demand. A burst of cool warmth cascaded over my head. My skin sparked with light, and her presence in my head was gone.

“Marvelous,” she gasped, her appearance back to normal. “Just marvelous . I’ve never felt anything like it.”

I sat up straighter, feeling slightly energized—though more than a little unnerved.

“I did read your mother’s mind, both here and in Lumnos,” Yrselle admitted. “She didn’t know that, of course. Auralie thought she was very sneaky.” Her dark eyes rolled. “They always do.”

“If you knew about the attack, why didn’t you stop it?”

“Stop it? I was grateful for it. If it gets me out of those awful rituals, the mortals can keep that damn island forever. Do you know how many of those ceremonies I’ve had to attend? How many hundreds of Forging Days I’ve had to trek out there just to shed a drop of blood?”

I gaped, unable to believe I’d heard her correctly. “You’re not opposed to the Guardians’ occupation? Won’t that disrupt the Forging magic?”

“The Forging magic is already disrupted.”

“Because of me? Because...” I held my breath. “‘ When forgotten blood on heartstone falls ’?”

Her smile was wide and proud. “Clever girl.”

“Does that mean my birth father is the ‘ forgotten’ ?”

She shrugged lightly. “Words in prophecies can have many meanings. Some quite obvious, some less so.”

“What about the rest? What chains? And the debt—whose yoke?”

“If I give it all away this early, you won’t stay for the whole trip. We can discuss the rest tomorrow, before you leave.”

I sank in my chair, frustrated. “You said my birth father was alive—where is he?”

“That, I do not know. You’ll have to find him on your own.” A spark of something glimmered in her midnight eyes. “Perhaps your mother will know.”

“But she’s in prison.”

“Yes. As a prisoner of the Crowns. And what are you?”

“A Crown.” My pulse picked up speed. “So I can get her out?”

“For that, you need a vote of six Crowns—unless you intend to start a war. But you are entitled to question her. And if Fortos says otherwise, you remember what I told you.”

“‘ A Crown holds no authority over other Crowns ,’” I repeated. My mind reeled at this new possibility. I could go see my mother, speak to her, hold her in my arms—but I still had no idea how to get her free.

Yrselle sneered. “I never approved of this ‘vote of six’ rubbish. That’s a new creation, you know. Put into place years after the war, over my protests.”

Her fist slammed onto the table with a violent crack , rattling me and half the dishes.

“There’s a reason it takes all nine Crowns to renew the Forging magic,” she hissed. “We act as one. That’s what the Kindred intended. Even a single dissent should stay our hands. These fools and their egos thought they knew better than the Kindred, and look where it got us. Look what’s happened! Look how much we’ll have to sacrifice now that—”

She stopped short, huffing angry breaths. She’d talked herself into a furor, the wildness of her gaze betraying the unpredictability Zalaric had warned of. Her mighty aura had a disturbingly unhinged energy, a bomb that might erupt in dragonfyre or daffodils.

She brushed her hair back with a shaky hand. “Well. We’ve lost sight of many things the Kindred intended, haven’t we?”

I nodded to placate her, keeping as still as I could muster.

Her breathing steadied, and she picked up her teacup. “Lumnos is not the only one who speaks to her disciples, you know.” She raised the cup to her lips, watching me from beneath her dark lashes. “Blessed Father Umbros has much to say about you.”

My fingers tightened around the arm of my chair. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Umbros... a Kindred ... a dead, super-powerful divine spirit... had spoken to Yrselle ... about me?

I sat up straighter. “The prophecy... is that how you—”

“I’ve answered enough questions. Now I have a few for you.” She shoved her chair back with a noisy screech, extending her hand. “Shall we discuss them on the balcony?”

It didn’t feel like a request, so I stiffly rose and took her hand. Her nails scraped lightly against my wrist as she led me to an outdoor terrace. Her gryvern was there, curled up and dozing, though it cracked one amber eye as we approached.

The balcony was lined with the flimsiest railing imaginable—swaths of ribbon draped between potted olive trees. I peered over the edge, spotting white, skull-shaped objects in a heap on the canyon floor, and I began to understand why.

“You and that Prince,” she began, stealing my attention back. She took my hands in hers. “You have plans for a new Emarion, don’t you?”

Oh, no .

My mouth went dry. “What? No, I—”

“Don’t bother lying, dear. Everything your Luther knows, I’ve already seen.”

Oh, no no no .

This was bad. This was so bad. Was this why she’d brought me here—to expose me and kill me?

Suddenly, the edge of the balcony was uncomfortably close. I looked around for an exit or a weapon. Could I resist, if she pushed me? Could I push her first?

A growl rolled from her gryvern’s throat.

“Careful, dear. Gryverns can sense intentions. And unlike that miserable Ignios beast, mine actually likes me.” She squeezed my hands. “You want to change the order of things in Emarion, yes?”

Slowly, I nodded.

“And these plans of yours... how dedicated are you to seeing them through?”

My lips pressed tight.

She stepped closer. “How far are you willing to go for them? How much will you sacrifice?”

“Whatever it takes,” I said. “I’ll die for them, if I must.”

She rolled her eyes. “That part’s easy. Anyone can die.” Her head shifted with a predatory tilt. “Can you kill? ”

That question had been haunting me for weeks. Could I? I’d taken a life, but it had been accidental, a reflex of self-defense. Could I kill with purpose? Could I slaughter?

“I... I think so.”

“Can you watch the people you love die?”

My chest tightened. “I already have.”

“Can you watch them all die?”

“Surely that won’t—”

“Can you keep going when everyone you care for is lying in a grave?” Her gaze sharpened. “Can you be the one who puts them there?”

She crooked a finger under my chin, the sharp point of her nail digging into my flesh. “How far will you go? This world of peace and unity you think you can build—how much are you willing to give to see it come to life?”

“Everything.”

The word came out instantly, drug up by some innate certainty, out of my mouth before I’d consciously thought it through.

“Are you sure?” she snapped. “Be certain , child. Everything has a price, and the more precious the item, the more devastating the cost.” Her hand gripped painfully around my jaw and jerked me forward. Her mental claws scraped against the walls of my mind, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, this time I let her stay there.

“I’ll ask you one last time,” she snarled. “How much of your soul are you willing to set ablaze?”

“All of it,” I whispered.

Silence hovered, thick and deadly.

“Good.” She let go of my chin and gave me a light pat on my cheek. She turned and walked away, and her presence slithered out of my head. “I have something to show you.”

I swayed on my feet, unable to move. Her gryvern watched me with a probing gaze.

“Come along, dear. It’s rude to dawdle.”

I followed her out of the room and down the hall, my heart still hammering in my chest.

A few moments later she stopped in front of a stained-glass door depicting what looked to be a history of Emarion. On one panel, bloody bodies were scattered over a red-drenched battlefield. On another, nine Crown-wearing figures stood on a circular black platform.

But what rendered me speechless was the panel on top. A tree, its branches engulfed in flames, a red-haired man leaning against its base.

The Everflame .

“What is this place?” I asked breathlessly.

She swung the door open, revealing an enormous room. Each side was lined with fully stocked bookshelves, while tables with soft-hued lanterns dotted the center path.

“This is my library,” she explained. “I saw in Zalaric’s memories you have an affinity for books.”

I nodded, too overcome to speak.

She gestured to one side. “The mortal section is there. Peruse it to your heart’s content. The Descended books are on the other side.” She pointed to a small alcove walled off by an iron gate. “That’s the Kindred section. It has some of the rarest books in Emarion. Only the Sophos Crown’s library could hope to compete.”

My jaw dropped further. She pulled back her shoulders, smirking with no small amount of pride.

She slipped a key out of her corset and dangled it just above my hand. “I don’t even give my Centenaries this access. But you are not a Centenary.” The key fell into my palm. “And I think you will need this in the weeks to come.”

She promptly whirled around and began walking away. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

I cringed. This was a gift, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Any other day, I would have walled myself into a fort of books and refused to ever come out.

But today, Luther needed me.

“Wait,” I called out.

She paused and looked back, eyebrows high.

“Thank you for this offer. I would love nothing more, really, but...” I sighed. “I need to get back to my friends.”

“Oh, they aren’t here.” She made a face. “They were disgustingly unkempt. I sent them to a bathhouse in the city to be cleaned up and fitted for appropriate clothing. They’ll be back for dinner.”

My shoulders sank.

“Happy reading, dear,” she chirped, strolling away. “And don’t forget why they banned these books for mortals in the first place.”

“Why is that?”

“Because an education is the most powerful weapon of them all.”