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

Chapter 51

Chapter

Fifty-One

A fter being forced to turn over our weapons, we marched outside through a maze of boxy, soulless buildings. As we walked, he threw out gruff orders to soldiers he passed, all of whom had red eyes—and all of whom were male.

“Where are the female commanders?” I asked.

The King flicked me a sour look. “Blessed Father Fortos saw fit to make our men fighters and our women healers. Healers don’t make commanders .”

There was oh so much I wanted to say.

About the fact that his most prized Descended were the select few who were neither male nor female, and thus carried both sides of the Fortos gifts.

About the fact that my mother—a healer—was the leader of his greatest enemy, the same group that had bested him on the island.

About the fact that this woman, this healer, had just made a King-shaped dent in his fortress walls.

But I knew men like him. I’d outsmarted and outmatched them all my life. They didn’t trifle with silly things like logic or reason .

They were bullies.

And bullies only responded to fear.

I let out a soft, thoughtful hum. “Do you think the Kindred decide together who gets their strongest magic?”

“Doubtful. The other Kindred choose Queens. Blessed Father Fortos has never made that mistake.” He threw me a smirk, goading me to argue. I brushed it off with an agreeable smile.

We stepped into a small, nondescript building, notable only for the heavy presence of soldiers. Inside, a single hallway led to another godstone vault and another pack of beefy guards. They saluted their King and began unlocking the doors.

I edged closer to Luther and hid my hand behind his thigh. “Do you think he might ever change his mind? Maybe realize he was wrong to determine a person’s worth by what lay between their legs?”

The King scoffed. “The Blessed Father is no fool. He knows men are more capable of handling leadership. Only men are strong enough to wield—”

He paused.

Swallowed.

Wriggled his shoulders. Wrinkled his brow.

His face turned pale, then a little green.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

A pungent odor of decay rose in the air. The King tensed, his bulbous muscles straining.

“Is there a problem, Your Majesty?” a soldier asked hesitantly.

“No. No, everything’s fine.” The King tugged at his collar and coughed. A shimmering veil draped around him as his shield dropped into place.

“You’re not looking so good,” I tutted. “Perhaps you need to lie down? Have a little nap?”

I twitched my fingers. The King groaned and clutched at his gurgling stomach, his throat seeming to work at keeping its contents down.

“Which of you is doing this?” he hissed at his men. “This is treason. I’m your King .”

The soldiers exchanged baffled looks.

“Your Majesty,” one said, pointing. “Your nose .”

The King’s hand touched his nostrils, then pulled away smeared with glossy red.

“Oh, dear,” I cooed. “That’s not good at all.”

I walked forward, smoothly breaching the wall of his shield, and brushed away the blood from his chin.

His men fell silent. The King’s eyes grew.

“Careful, Fortos,” I said. “Wouldn’t want you to catch something your weak, incapable healers can’t fix.”

Accusation raged behind his eyes—followed quickly by doubt, then utter confusion. I said nothing, enjoying the visual tour of what his walnut-sized brain was attempting to parse.

I touched his arm and released my healing magic. “Feeling better now?” I asked. “If so, I’d like to get on with it. I intend to be back in Lumnos by sunset.”

He jerked away and gripped the hilt of his sword. Luther responded in kind, shoving himself in front of me and conjuring gauntlets of sizzling light. Metallic clinking and the stink of rot filled the air as the soldiers followed suit.

I clasped my hands behind my back. “Goodness. You men are so emotional.” I glanced at Luther. “Put that away, my Prince. We didn’t come to do anyone harm.”

He instantly withdrew his magic. “As you wish, my Queen.”

I stared expectantly at the Fortos King. Though I hid it well, his dumbfounded look matched my own thoughts. When I’d called on my godhood to use the King’s own deadly magic against him, I hadn’t actually believed it would work.

He glanced around at his frowning, bewildered men, then eyed me, far less cocky than before.

A soldier nudged forward. “Your Majesty, are you hurt? Should I call for a heal—”

The King stiffened. “Don’t just stand there,” he shouted at his men. “Open the door, you idiots.”

They scrambled to obey, blades returning to their sheaths. The godstone doors swung open to a stone staircase leading down further than I could see.

The King gestured for me to go ahead. I really, really didn’t like the knowing gleam in his eyes.

“It’s your realm,” I demurred. “I wouldn’t dream of taking the lead.”

He flashed a murderous smile. “I insist.”

Neither of us moved.

“Afraid to turn your back on a Queen, Fortos?” Luther taunted.

Eyebrows flew up on the soldiers’ faces.

“There’s nothing on this earth I fear,” the King snarled. “Least of all a woman .” He scowled and shoved past us, trudging down the narrow steps.

Luther held me back until the King had gained some distance, then tugged me close as we descended together.

“Did you just do what I think you did?” he asked under his breath.

I shrugged coyly. “Did you enjoy it?”

His hand flexed on my hip. “I am going to do such filthy things to you tonight.”

An eager warmth pooled low in my belly. My toes curled as we exchanged a look simmering with mutual promise.

After a seemingly eternal descent, the stairs smoothed into a long, vaulted hallway, though it was blocked by a gate of glittering black stone bars.

The King unsheathed his blade and drew its point across his thumb, then swiped the finger on a small metal disc on the gate.

Shit .

Bloodlocks.

Only willingly given blood would unlock them. Even if I took the King himself hostage, no amount of threats or mind control would bypass this .

We followed the King through, his stare holding steady on me as he slammed the gate closed. “Like what you see? It might be your home too, someday. Someday soon .”

I gazed up and tapped my chin. “I wonder if a pissed off gryvern could make it all the way down here.” I frowned. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t have one. I guess you wouldn’t know.”

His face filled with so much rage, Luther stiffened and nudged me behind him.

Sensitive subject? I asked into Luther’s mind.

He shot me a half-amused, half-wary look.

We continued on, following more long halls, passing through more bloodlocked gates. Oddly, there wasn’t a single soldier in sight.

“Where are all the guards?” I asked.

“We don’t need guards,” the King answered. “No one can get past these gates. Even if they did, there’s only one exit, and it’s nothing but flatlands for miles. They’d be spotted in minutes. There’s never been a successful escape in Emarion history.”

My stomach lurched.

The corridors thinned, and iron doors began to appear along the stone walls. Behind grates in their panels, the interiors were shrouded in darkness.

I paused in front of a door and raised a hand to the opening. Pale blue light spiraled out from my palm, illuminating the bleak cell. There was very little inside—a flattened mat of moldy hay, a dingy bucket, and a tray of food that looked like it had been rotting for weeks.

And curled up in a back corner, shielding his face from the glow, sat a green-eyed man.

He looked shockingly fragile for a Descended. Soiled muslin rags drooped from his bones, which had become nearly visible through his sallow, paper-thin skin. His face had lost all its color, and his eyes had lost all their light.

I sucked in a breath. Instinctively, I reached toward him and pushed healing magic into the air.

“What are you doing?” the King snapped, lunging to grab me. “Get away from there.”

Luther blocked his path with a threatening snarl. “Lay a hand on her, and this realm will have a new Crown by day’s end.”

I had to admit, his rampages had quite the stimulating effect of their own.

“You two can’t just come to my realm and threaten me,” the King roared.

“These conditions are inhumane,” I shouted back. “This man is barely alive.”

“He’s lucky. If I had my way, there’d be nothing left of him but ash. My only mandate is to keep the prisoners breathing. Beyond that, I run things how I please. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Crowns.” He began to walk away. “Something tells me they won’t be receptive to complaints from you .”

I gazed back at the cell. Luther took my hands and gently tried to pry me away.

“You will remake this world,” he said, echoing his words in the Umbros markets. “Right now, your mother needs you.”

I reluctantly let him lead me away. My eyes fell in shame with every new cell we passed, knowing now of the horrors that lay inside.

“Why are they so quiet?” I murmured. There were at least forty cells in this hall alone, yet not even a whisper emerged from a single one.

“They’re drugged,” the King answered. “It suppresses their magic and keeps them docile.”

Flameroot , I realized. Though the small amount I’d taken daily had dulled my emotions, for the most part, I’d still been myself. These prisoners must have been given an enormous dose to have this strong an effect.

A sudden crush of emptiness hit me. It was visceral, more physical than sadness, like a piece of my soul had been sucked out from within. I clutched at my chest and looked up at Luther in alarm—only to see his face had gone pale.

His expression turned grim as his gaze locked with mine. The storm of light and shadow that usually churned in his eyes had vanished.

My heart sank.

His magic was gone.

The King stopped mid-step and glanced over his shoulder, a cruel smile hooking at the corner of his lips. It seemed he had noticed, too.

Luther’s knuckles blanched where they fisted at his side. “Don’t get any ideas,” he rumbled. “All I need is my bare hands and a good reason.”

The King’s ominous chuckle echoed down the hall.

After a shorter set of stairs, the corridor opened up to a wide central room partitioned by walls of iron bars enclosing several large, hay-covered pens. Like the other cells, they were brutally sparse. The air reeked of a putrid scent, the scattered buckets overflowing with waste.

The room was freezing, raising bumps along my arms, yet no prisoner had more than a thin, threadbare tunic and no blankets were anywhere in sight. Thick metal chains draped from the walls and tangled on the ground where shivering bodies huddled in groups, emaciated arms draped over bony shoulders.

“You’re a monster,” I breathed. “These are human beings, Fortos.”

He grunted. “I thought you’d be happy. At least we let the families stay together.”

“Families?” I choked.

As I dared to peer closer, I spotted smaller, younger bodies hidden amid the horde. Their brown eyes peered at my Crown with a deeply understandable fusion of terror and hate.

My temper exploded. I whirled on the King and stormed toward him as magic sprang to life at my palms. “You put fucking children in here?”

He threw up his shield, momentarily bouncing me backward. I slashed a hand across the filmy grey dome and it shattered to dust.

The King stumbled back a step. “They were captured in a rebel camp. The laws apply to everyone equally. Even children.”

“Equally?” My enraged shout reverberated off the stone walls. “ Equally? ”

Fight , the voice purred.

My godhood blazed alongside my fury, swirling in tandem to a blistering heat.

“My Queen,” Luther said. “There’s something you should see.”

I barely heard him over the roar of my temper. My self-control was unraveling and taking my magic with it, sparks flurrying in the air and shadows dripping from my palms.

Fight .

The mortals began to rise and press curious faces to the bars of their cells.

The King edged further back. “Put your magic away, Lumnos. I can have a hundred guards here in a second.”

“How dare you claim the laws apply equally?” I snarled. “This continent hasn’t seen equality since the day your cursed, gods-damned Kindr—”

“Your Majesty,” Luther cut in sharply. “ Look .”

His hand pressed between my shoulders. The tender touch blunted the edge of my ire, but I was too far gone in my rage to tear my glare from the King.

Fight.

Destroy .

My skin ignited with glittering light. “One day soon, you will answer for your crimes, Fortos. And when you do—”

“Diem?”

My voice hitched.

My heart paused.

My magic stuttered and died.

Time slowed to a crawl as my head turned toward the weak, familiar voice that had called out my name.

From deep within the shadows of the cage, the brown eyes of Auralie Bellator stared back.