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

Chapter 36

Chapter

Thirty-Six

W e sat at a long, narrow table that stretched the length of the room, the center piled high with arrangements of food, flowers, and candles. Yrselle and I shared the place of honor at the center on opposite sides. On her right, Symond had the perfect position to throw smug glances at Luther, seated to my left. Taran sat beside Luther, while Alixe and Zalaric sat to my right.

Courses came and went as conversation probed the details of my life as a mortal, something Yrselle and her ilk found fascinating. Though I tried to sate their curiosity, it was hard to say which was more distracting: the Queen’s sharp-edged questions, Symond’s relentless flirting, or the way Luther leaned in his chair so his arm brushed mine with every gesture. I felt a bit like a favorite doll being fought over by siblings.

It didn’t help that the noise in the hall echoed deafeningly off the marble walls. Ever since arriving in Umbros, I’d found it difficult to think around more than a handful of people. Even the hushed whispers penetrated my thoughts and competed for my focus.

As wine flowed, I began to wear thin, and my answers grew shorter and snippier. Alixe smoothly interceded, maneuvering the topic to safer waters.

“When you said your Centenaries would attend this dinner, I didn’t think you truly meant all ,” she said. “Is no one guarding the city?”

“We have our ways of guarding it from afar,” Symond answered with a cryptic smile.

“What about new boats arriving at the docks? Have you closed the port for the night?”

A Centenary down the table scoffed. “The Umbros port never closes.”

“Even the Blood War never shut us down,” Symond agreed. “Your presence certainly won’t.”

“Does that mean the ships passing through tonight will go untaxed?” Alixe asked.

“Never,” another Centenary hissed. “Her Majesty always gets her share.”

“ Drink! ” Taran cheered, raising his glass.

I winced. Over the course of the night, Taran had turned the discussion into a one-man drinking game: Symond pokes at Luther? A small sip. Someone gloats about the Queen’s absolute control of her city? Take a drink. A Centenary propositions one of us for sex? Finish his glass.

“But how can you collect payments?” I asked.

“You can hardly expect us to reveal our tricks to you ,” a Centenary said snidely. I recognized her as one of the women I’d seen leaving Luther’s room. We shot each other mirrored glares.

“The Lumnos Queen is our new friend,” Yrselle said. “Surely we can trust her to keep our secrets.” Her piercing gaze challenged me to deny it.

I shrugged. “If you doubt my motives, you can always look in my head and see them for yourself.”

Yrselle’s mouth tightened.

I sat straighter in my chair.

She recovered quickly with an unbothered smile. “We hire Lumnos Descended to craft the illusion of Centenaries throughout the city.” She tipped her glass to Zalaric. “Usually you’re the one who collects my tariffs at the port.”

He stilled, his fork frozen in midair. “I am?”

Laughter rippled among the Centenaries.

Symond smiled nastily. “You don’t remember because we erased it from your memory.”

Blood drained from Zalaric’s face. He looked like he was wondering what else he might have done on Yrselle’s command he now had no knowledge of.

“You can do that?” I asked. “Erase pieces of someone’s memory?”

More laughter rose around the room.

“Oh, we can do anything ,” the Luther-admiring female Centenary said with an arrogant sniff.

Hagface. I decided to name her Hagface.

“We can erase memories. Create them. Replace your emotions with pain.” Hagface smiled at Luther and bit her lip. “Or replace them with pleasure.”

Yrselle sipped her wine. “When you control someone’s mind, you control everything about them. You can make them say or do anything. Believe they’re someone else. Turn them against the people they love.” She ran a finger along the stem of her glass, her gaze hard on mine. “I could make your Luther put a sword through your heart, if I desired.”

Luther’s hand fisted on the table. “I would never ,” he growled.

“Would you like me to prove it?” she snapped, slamming her glass down.

The room went silent.

“No need,” I said quietly. “I believe you.”

Her glare cut to me. “Good. Because that’s not even the worst of what our magic can do.” She rose, planting her palms on the table and leaning forward. “I could remove every thought from your head and turn you into a walking corpse. Everything you love, everything you are, gone forever .”

Goosebumps prickled my skin. I offered a small smile. “Then let us all be glad we are allies.”

Nervous chuckles rose from both our groups, but they were quickly silenced by the clattering of plates and glasses falling to the floor as Yrselle swiped her arm across the table and cleared the space between us.

I jumped to my feet in surprise. She crawled across the table and snatched my wrist, yanking me closer until we were nose to nose.

“Are you listening?” she hissed. “Once a mind is crushed, there is no saving it. Memories cannot be rewritten. Even Blessed Father Umbros cannot restore what no longer exists.”

To anyone else, it surely looked like a threat. The Corbois had drawn their magic in my defense, though the Centenaries had frozen them still.

But there was something else in the crazed darkness of Yrselle’s eyes. A message. A warning of a different kind.

“Do you understand?” she demanded. Her nails dug into my flesh. “The soul is gone. Gone . Death is the only salvation you can give them.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“You don’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you will.”

She released me and flopped backward into her chair. “Someone clean this mess up.” She lazily flicked her wrist. “And bring us gaudenscium , too.”

I stumbled back a step, my companions jolting free of their mental binds. Centenaries leapt up and surrounded us to clear the fallen items.

Luther placed a hand on my waist to steady me. “Are you alright?”

I nodded dumbly and leaned into him, still stunned from the Queen’s outburst. His grip on me curved tighter.

“I hate this place,” he mumbled. “The sooner we leave here, the better.”

I’d briefly forgotten my irritation with him amid the commotion, but now it was slamming right back in place. “You seemed to enjoy yourself today.”

His wounded look took me by surprise, and my righteous ire deflated. I avoided his eyes as I pulled free and slid back into my chair.

Once the table was clear, a Centenary appeared with a silver tray and set goblets containing a reddish liquid in front of us.

The Queen lifted her glass. “A toast... to our very special guests.”

A cheer went up around the room. I flashed her a strained smile as I raised the drink to my lips.

The smell hit me first. A smell I knew—and despised: smoke and citrus.

Stop!

The word exploded in my head, an urgent thought borne of panic and fury.

Instantly, every hand in the room stilled.

Including the Queen’s.

“This is flameroot,” I snarled, shoving my goblet away and yanking Luther’s from his grasp.

Yrselle beamed, looking oddly proud. “Bravo, dear. You’re even more clever than I thought.”

“You call us allies, then try to drug us and steal our magic?” I snapped.

Zalaric and Alixe quickly pushed theirs away. Taran grimaced, staring into his already empty glass.

“This is an attack, Yrselle,” I warned.

“I would have told you after the first sip.” She motioned for her Centenaries to replace our drinks. “Can you blame me? The last time I saw you under its effects, you and I had such great fun.”

She flashed a savage grin. An image of our first meeting blinked into my mind: me, whimpering under her control in a darkened alley.

When we meet again, remember this moment, she’d told me that day. How I could have made you kneel. How I could have made you beg.

The image vanished, along with the faint drag of her mental claws retreating.

I gritted my teeth. The Umbros power was dangerous, indeed. If you weren’t looking for it, and if the wielder was skilled, you could fall captive without even knowing you’d been caught. I wondered if I could craft a mental shield to keep them out of my head once and for all.

My godhood swelled, knowing instinctively what to do. It bloomed and coated my scalp, pulsing ice and fire against the inside of my temples.

The room went quiet.

I looked around. Centenaries were still laughing, talking, flirting, yet the maddening roar of voices plaguing me all night was inexplicably... gone.

And then it hit me—it was never voices I’d been hearing, here or in the markets.

It was thoughts .

The realization left me deeply unsettled—and a little intrigued.

Five fluted glasses were placed in front of me. Yrselle took a bottle and filled them with a pale green liquid, then topped up her own glass and took a sip. “There. If this one is poisoned, we’re both doomed.”

I reached forward, and Luther seized my hand.

“Wait,” he insisted. He grabbed a glass, then downed its entire contents.

Symond rolled his eyes. “What does that prove? If he falls over dead, it’s hardly our fault.”

The Queen tutted at Symond with a disapproving look. After a tense moment where no one spoke—and, more importantly, no one died—I pulled my hand free and distributed the glasses to the others.

The liquid was pleasantly sweet and went down smooth, leaving a warm buzz on my lips. “What is this?” I asked, taking another sip.

“ Gaudenscium ,” Zalaric answered. “A local favorite. You can buy it down in the markets.”

“Though none compares to Her Majesty’s blend,” Symond said with a simpering smile at Yrselle. “We go through it so quickly, we can barely keep it in stock.”

I could see why. After only a sip, the tingling had spread to all my most intimate areas. My cheeks flushed, my body throbbing, my nipples peaked. I became acutely aware of the friction as they brushed the fabric of my dress with each breath.

“It’s quite strong,” I said breathily.

Symond gazed at me and stroked a thumb across his lower lip. “It’s an aphrodisiac. It opens your mind and your legs.”

“ Drink! ” Taran shouted and emptied his glass.

“We should play the mirror game,” Hagface suggested, wearing a devious smirk I didn’t like one bit.

The Queen clapped. “A brilliant idea!”

“What’s the mirror game?” Alixe asked.

“It’s simple,” Hagface said. “We ask you a question, and you have to answer it truthfully. We’ll use our magic to make sure you’re not lying.”

“Sounds more like an interrogation,” Luther said. His voice sounded different—like warm honey and rough gravel. Like lips on my skin and a hand on my throat. I wasn’t entirely proud of how my thighs squeezed in response.

Hagface giggled a little too hard. “The game is in the questions. Each one forces you to look at yourself and admit who you truly are.”

“Like a mirror,” the Queen added. “It’s always great fun.”

I nervously tapped my glass. “Surely there’s nothing you can ask us you don’t already know.”

Her shadowy eyes gleamed with a whirlwind of plans. “How about another trade? Play our game tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll answer whatever questions you wish.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You’ll answer them all? And you’ll answer truthfully?”

“You have my word.” She propped a hand under her chin and smiled. “May Blessed Umbros strike me dead if I lie.”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll play. But only me—not the others.”

Hagface pouted, and Yrselle clicked her tongue. “It’s not a game if you’re not all playing.”

“I’ll play,” Taran slurred. “I love mirrors.”

“I’ll play, too,” Alixe said.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said to her.

She smiled. “I know. But you need those questions answered, and I swore to serve my Queen.”

“My, what loyalty you inspire,” Yrselle said.

Hagface grinned. “We’ll see how long that lasts once the game starts.”

Yrselle’s focus slid to Luther. “Well, Prince? Are you willing to sacrifice your secrets for your Queen?”

He didn’t answer. Though I couldn’t begrudge him his hesitation, the knife in my heart twisted a little deeper.

He looked at me, conflict thrashing in his eyes.

“You can say no,” I said quietly. “I understand.”

“What’s wrong, Luther?” Symond jeered. “Can’t handle a little ‘ brutal honesty ’?”

“ Drink ,” Taran mumbled sadly, staring at his empty glass.

Luther’s jaw twitched. “Fine. I’ll play, too.”

Yrselle slapped her palm on the table. “Wonderful! And you, Zalaric? Will you play with all your new friends?”

I tried to shoot him a warning look—this game was most dangerous for him of us all—but his attention was fixed on Yrselle.

“Does Your Majesty wish for me to play?”

Her cruel smile stretched wide. “I do.”

Don’t do it , I pleaded silently. Find a way out.

He looked at me, and from the helplessness in his expression, I knew he’d heard me.

He swallowed. “Then I’ll play, as well.”

The Centenaries chattered eagerly and moved their chairs nearer, and our glasses were refilled, much to Taran’s delight. Others crowded around the Queen and resumed their ritual of groping her body while she ignored their presence.

All eyes locked on us as a hush fell.

“I’ll start off easy,” Yrselle said. “If Blessed Lumnos gave you the power to decide which of you wore the Crown, who would you choose?”

“Diem,” Luther answered immediately.

Yrselle nodded. “Truth.”

“Myself,” Zalaric said, smirking.

“Also truth,” she said, followed by a chorus of laughter around the room.

“Luther,” I answered.

He stared at me again. Though I avoided his eyes, I could sense the shock in his reaction.

“Is that true?” Yrselle pushed. “You would give up your Crown to him?”

I took a long drink, the gaudenscium fueling my bravery. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Her gaze narrowed. I felt a scrape at my mental walls, but it felt distant this time, muffled and frail.

Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair. My shield had worked—she couldn’t get in.

The thought sent adrenaline pulsing in my veins. How many years, how many centuries , had it been since she’d been locked out of anyone’s head?

And what would her Centenaries do if they found out?

“Knock, knock,” she cooed, her tone light but laced with menace.

After her stunt with the flameroot, the temptation to expose her weakness was strong. Reluctantly, I withdrew my godhood. It lingered at the edges, still poised to strike, not trusting her any more than I did.

Her posture eased. “You speak the truth,” she said matter-of-factly. “You would make Luther the King.” Her lips pressed to a thin line. “An interesting choice.”

“I would choose Diem,” Alixe said. “The Blessed Mother chose her. Who am I to decide differently?”

Luther grunted in agreement.

Yrselle gave a low, husky laugh and lifted her glass high. “We have our first liar of the night.”

The Centenaries roared their satisfaction and applauded, tipping their heads back to drink.

Alixe blanched. “It’s not a lie.”

“It isn’t? You don’t think Luther is more well-known, more respected? More levelheaded and capable of leading an army in wartime?” Yrselle cocked her head. “You don’t think you are, too?”

“I... Luther would be a fine King, and I would try my best, but Diem, she... she’s proven that—”

“It’s not whether you think she can do the job,” Symond interrupted. “It’s whether you think she can do it better than the rest of you.” He swirled his glass. “And you, High General, clearly do not.”

Alixe shrank into her chair.

“It’s fine,” I told her. “I understand.” I smiled, trying to be reassuring, though I couldn’t deny her answer had stung. Not because she was wrong—because she was right, and I knew it.

“I choose Queenie,” Taran drawled. “Lu never wanted the Crown anyway, and she makes my father miserable.”

“Truth,” Yrselle declared.

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

“Plus Queenie’s a better nickname than Kingy.” His nose scrunched. “Kingy Kingy Kingy. See? It’s all wrong.”

“I have a question,” Hagface chimed in. “Who in this room do you most wish to have in your bed?”

A Centenary beside her rolled their eyes. “That’s a terrible question. Their answers are obvious.” They nodded to Luther. “Especially for him.”

Yrselle lifted an eyebrow at Luther. “Well?”

“There’s only one person I desire in my bed.” He glanced at me. “And she should know who she is.”

“I think we all know who she is,” someone quipped, followed by a wave of snickers.

My cheeks turned pink. The heat of it mixed with the liquor in my blood, prodding mischievously at my temper. How should I know anything, when he continued to push me away?

I rolled back my shoulders. “The only man I’ll welcome in bed is a man who desires me— and who wants me there. As I’ve come to learn, those can be two different things.”

“I volunteer,” Symond drawled.

Shrugging, I raised my glass to him. “I suppose we’ll see where the night takes us.”

A pulse of energy exploded through the room with menacing force. Some jolted back in their chairs, others shuddering as the ferocious presence rumbled over their skin.

Though my hand wobbled at its impact, I didn’t have to guess who caused it. I knew that aura more intimately than any other.

“I don’t think the Prince liked Her Majesty’s answer,” Symond teased with delight.

“But it’s an honest answer.” Yrselle gave me a knowing wink. “Technically.”

I carefully avoided all the eyes locked on me as I sipped my drink. “What about you, Alixe?”

She gazed out at the clustered Centenaries. “I’d be happy to have any of you in my bed tonight. Or all of you. The more the merrier.”

“That’s truth,” Yrselle said.

“Same answer for me,” Taran said.

“ That’s a lie.”

The Centenaries cheered and drank another round. Taran huffed. “Fine. Half of you. No offense, ladies.”

“Another lie.”

The celebrations grew louder, and Taran paled. He looked around the room. “Look, you’re all very handsome, I can’t possibly pick just one—”

“ Still lying,” Yrselle sang in a teasing pitch.

“It’s not a Centenary he’s interested in,” Hagface sneered.

My nose wrinkled. “Gross, Taran. Luther’s your cousin. ”

Luther shook his head. “Not me. Try again.”

Taran scowled at him. “Traitor.”

“You’ve exposed my feelings for Diem several times. You’ve earned a little payback.”

Luther and I shared a glance. I forced myself to look at him, really truly look at him, for the first time tonight. Even in his finery, polished and trussed up with all the trappings of the mighty Prince, something wasn’t quite right.

His expression was weary, and his eyes looked inexplicably sad, but as he stared at me like I was the only creature in all the world, his lip still curved up with a tentative smile.

The woman he loves , Taran had said.

I closed my eyes, my throat squeezing tight.

Alixe, our eternal and long-suffering peacemaker, turned to her right. “What about you, Zalaric? Does anyone here strike your fancy?”

He swirled his wine slowly. “With all due respect to our two beautiful Queens, I think I’d be better off alone than with anyone here.”

“Another lie,” Yrselle said. The Centenaries whooped and clinked their glasses.

Taran’s bloodshot eyes rolled to the ceiling, though not quite at the same time. “What Zal, none of us are good enough for you?”

“As a matter of fact, no.”

Taran snorted, and Zalaric glared.

“So many lies,” Yrselle taunted. “At this rate, you two are going to get my Centenaries drunk within the hour.”

Zalaric looked so alarmed, I had to take pity on him and clear my throat. “I don’t think Zalaric is lying. No one would rather be alone than with the person they desire. But if that someone doesn’t want you back...” I swallowed thickly. “Maybe he’s just waiting for a person who cares enough to fight for him.”

Luther’s hand flexed at his side.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” Yrselle said. “But it’s still a lie. At least for dear Zalaric.”

Taran barked a laugh as Zalaric sulked low into his seat.

“New question,” Yrselle declared. “My palace is burning, and you can only save one other person.” She crossed her legs and lounged casually against the arm of her chair. “Who do you choose, Zalaric: Diem or me?”

The energy in the room shifted. The Centenaries hushed, their eyes volleying between Zalaric and their Queen. Even Symond had paused his vigilant taunting of Luther to watch.

This was exactly what I’d feared. I wiggled in my chair and quietly coughed, trying to catch Zalaric’s eye and cursing myself for not warning him sooner.

He reached for the bottle of gaudenscium , then refilled his glass. “I have an answer, though it might get me killed to admit it.”

“Zalaric,” I started, “you really don’t—”

“Hush,” Yrselle snapped. “Let him answer.”

I winced. Still, Zalaric would not look my way. He took a long drink, then raised his chin. “I’m only saving myself. The rest of you are on your own.”

A tense silence hung in the air as we all awaited Yrselle’s response. Her expression stayed fixed in stone, unimpressed and unmoving.

Then, without warning—a cackle burst out of her. “Oh Zalaric, this is why I’ve always respected you. A man who knows his priorities.”

My shoulders relaxed as the other Centenaries joined her laughter. Zalaric finally looked at me, his expression mildly apologetic.

I grinned. “I respect it, too. I’d rather have your honesty than your loyalty.”

Luther visibly stiffened. I hadn’t intended it as a dig at him, but I sipped my drink with a small kick of satisfaction.

“Alixe,” Yrselle started, “who would you save, your Queen or—”

“My Queen,” she answered immediately.

“I didn’t finish the question.”

“It doesn’t matter what name you choose. My oath is to my Queen. I serve her above all others.”

I braced for Yrselle to declare it a lie. Alixe tensed, and I wondered if she feared the same.

Yrselle nodded. “She speaks the truth.”

Alixe let out a quiet exhale.

“Taran,” Yrselle said. “Your turn. Would you save your Queen or Luther, your closest friend?”

He groaned. “Too easy. I’d save Diem.”

I tossed him a teasing grin. “You’re only saying that so Alixe’s answer doesn’t make you look bad.”

“And he knows I’d kill him myself if he chose me,” Luther rumbled.

“No.” Taran thumped his glass down on the table, glowering through his drunken haze. “I swore an oath too, you know.” He gestured wobbily at us. “Just because I don’t argue about it all the time like the three of you doesn’t mean I don’t take it—” He hiccupped. “—seriously.”

“Truth,” Yrselle said, looking amused.

His face turned somber as he pointed at random to several Centenaries. “I mean it. If you try to hurt her, you’ll have to—” He hiccupped again. “—come through me first.”

“We’re positively terrified,” Symond droned, drawing a round of laughter.

“You should be,” I said coolly.

He bristled as I gave him an unimpressed once-over. Like most Centenaries, he was lean and soft-edged—a body accustomed to comfort, not combat.

“You all have been coddled in Umbros,” I went on. “No one dares challenge you for fear of angering your Queen. But war is coming, and your enemies are not all so afraid. When the fighting starts, you better pray to the Kindred you’ve got someone like Taran on the battlefield to save your pampered asses.”

Taran crossed his arms and smirked.

Symond’s stare hardened. So much for flirting to get information—by the look on his face, I’d just made my first enemy in Umbros.

Well... second, if you counted Hagface.

Right on cue, she scoffed. “We’re not fighting in any war. We let the mortals do as they please. The Guardians aren’t coming for us , and our Queen doesn’t bow to other Crowns’ demands.”

My stomach dropped. I’d hoped to rely on Yrselle’s help, maybe even recruit her to my cause, but if she believed doing so would make her look weak...

I turned to her. She was already watching me, her expression murky and deep in thought.

“You reigned through the last Blood War,” I said. “Do you really think it’s possible to escape this one?”

She leaned her arms on the table, trapping me in the mesmerizing lure of her midnight gaze. “I think...” Her sharp nails drummed against the table. “I think we haven’t finished the game.”

“The game isn’t important.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Yrselle, you and I have already been caught in the midst of one battle, we can’t—”

“What was the question?” she cut in. “Oh yes—who would you save? Well, I doubt we need to bother asking who the Prince would save.”

“No,” Luther said darkly. “You don’t.”

Yrselle hummed, then rolled her head back to me. “That just leaves you.”

Taran snorted a laugh. “You don’t have to ask her, either.”

Yrselle was undeterred. She held my stare with a piercing look. “Tell me, Diem, who would you choose? Who will live, and who will burn? ”

My pulse picked up speed. The time might come, sooner than I was ready for, where I would be forced to make this very choice. And not just these four, but others. Teller, Maura, Henri, Lily. How could I choose which of the people I loved to save and which to sacrifice?

“I can’t answer.”

“You have to, that’s the game,” Hagface said.

“I can’t.”

“You can choose him, Your Majesty,” Alixe urged. “Taran and I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Nor would I,” Zalaric agreed.

I frowned. “But that would be a lie.”

Yrselle smiled and nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“I wouldn’t let any of them die.”

“But that’s not the game ,” Hagface whined. “We know you don’t want any of them to die. That’s what makes the question hard to answer. Obviously .”

Gods, I was going to enjoy dreaming tonight about wiping that sniveling look off her face.

“It has nothing to do with what I want. The game requires an honest answer, and if I gave you a name, it would be a lie.”

“You’re just like Zalaric,” she said, looking smug. “You’d only save yourself.”

“No, Hagface. That’s not it.”

“What did you just call m—”

“Because I’d never leave any of them behind. I’d find a way to save them all, or I would die trying.”

“But—”

Yrselle raised a palm to stop her. “It may not fit the game, but it’s indeed the truth. Any other answer from Diem would be a lie.”

“And that’s why we swore her our oath,” Alixe said, tapping a fist to her chest in salute.

Taran echoed the gesture. “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” Luther said softly, setting his palm flat over his heart.

Emotion burned at the back of my throat.

My eyes caught with Zalaric’s. He looked confused—almost conflicted. Like he couldn’t imagine why I would do that for him. Like he wasn’t sure he even wanted it.

That, I could understand. To have someone willing to die for you—it was a gift, but it was also a burden. A liability , Alixe had called it. For someone like Zalaric, so adept at navigating a dangerous world all on his own, that burden might not be so welcome.

He shook it off with a nervous laugh. “I think Her Majesty just won the game.” He grinned down the table at Taran. “Now whose answer is making you look bad?”

Zalaric’s tone was playful, empty of spite, but Taran’s face soured. “At least we’re willing to fight for someone other than ourselves.”

Zalaric flinched, his smile falling.

“I agree with Zalaric,” Yrselle declared. “Diem’s answer wins the game. No mirror could look deeper than that. And as your prize for winning, I’ll answer your question about the war.”

She drank until the final drop of emerald liquid disappeared between her lips. Her hand cupped the bowl of her wine glass, then she held it out in front of her and squeezed . It shattered in her palm with an explosion of glittering shards.

I gasped and jerked forward to help her on instinct. As a mortal, broken glass had been a harmful, wounding thing—but Yrselle was no mortal. Instead of trails of blood spilling on the table, the jagged pieces harmlessly dimpled her skin, then tumbled like sparkling pebbles from her fist.

“Look at that.” She wiggled her fingers. “Not even a scratch. All because the blood of Blessed Father Umbros runs in my veins. You know, even the most distant relation to a Kindred will bestow such gifts. The Sophos Crowns have been researching it for centuries—breeding Descended with mortals, then breeding that child with a mortal, then breeding that child with a mortal, on and on for generations. The Kindred blood never fades. No amount of mortal blood can destroy it. Only the blood of another Kindred can do that.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“One of my girls, Drusila—” She pointed to a woman nearby with blush-colored curls and a shy smile. “—is mated with a Meros man.”

Drusila waved, revealing a shimmering tattoo on her wrist.

“I’ve granted them leave to bear a child. Because her magic is stronger than her mate’s, the babe will be one of ours, with black eyes and thought magic—our next Centenary. It may take its father’s nose or laugh or personality, but his Meros blood will simply disappear , defeated by her Umbros blood.” Yrselle’s lip curled back. “Sophos has been studying that too, trying to recruit my Centenaries for their tests. The Crowns would love nothing more than to breed our line out of existence.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “No group should be forced to die off—mortal or Descended. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with the war.”

“Tell me, do you know why we named it the Blood War?”

“Because of the blood sun on the morning the war began,” I said, parroting what I’d been taught in school. “And because of how many people died.”

She laughed. “That’s the safe answer we give the mortals.” She pointed to my Crown. “It was the old Lumnos King who coined it. He said the war was about blood—whose would triumph, whose would survive. We Crowns were certain we would prevail, because we believed the blood of the nine Kindred would always win out—in war, as in life.”

“And you were right,” Symond said snidely, joined by a wave of nods and snickers.

Yrselle’s nostrils flared. Silence abruptly choked their responses as they all froze mid-movement.

“We were fools,” she hissed. “Our hubris cost us dearly. We lost two gryverns, thousands of lives, and we almost lost the war. These new Crowns have learned nothing from that lesson.”

She held out her palm to me, beckoning with an expectant look. I hesitantly set my hand in hers. She grabbed it by the wrist and flipped it over, then dragged a fingernail down my palm. I felt a bite of pain, then watched in surprise as a line of blood sprang to the surface. Only then did I see the glint of a dark blade fastened to the edge of her nail.

Luther tensed at the sight of my blood and reached for my arm, sparks of light and shadow swirling at his palm. My other hand shot out to his leg and pressed gently in a wordless order to stand down. He stilled, the softest rumble rolling low in his throat, then slowly eased back into his chair.

His hand slid over mine, holding it in place on his thigh. Despite the emotions churning between us, the simple gesture filled me with an unexpected calm. His magic caressed my skin as it dissipated, and my godhood swirled happily in response.

“This.” Yrselle tapped her finger at the blood pooling in my palm. “The war will be fought over this . But this war will be unlike any we’ve ever seen. Those who are most certain they will win will find themselves among the first to die.”

I studied her carefully. “Does that mean you intend to fight?”

She smiled, and for the first time, there was no taunting in it, no malice, no amusement, no joy—just the bittersweet tightness of acceptance.

“My fate on that is sealed. The war has begun, and there’s not a soul on the continent who can escape it now.”