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

Chapter 59

Chapter

Fifty-Nine

A tentative hope streamed through my panic. When I’d met the elderly Montios King at my coronation, he’d been... not friendly , but curious. I even thought I’d heard him whisper something in my ear.

Good luck, Daughter of the Forgotten .

If he’d sent his people to claim me, perhaps there was some chance I could count him as an ally.

“We have authority to arrest the Lumnos Queen in whatever realm she enters,” the commander insisted. “She is a prisoner of the Crowns.”

“On what grounds?” the little girl asked.

“She broke into our prison. Killed our King. Freed our prisoners. Attacked the army.” His gaze narrowed. “And that’s just what she did yesterday .”

The girl shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Those are crimes against Fortos, not the Crowns.”

“She is suspected of planning the attack on Coeur?le,” he huffed, clearly losing his patience.

“Suspected.” Her slender eyebrows rose. “But not yet charged?”

“It’s only a matter of time until she—”

“Then you may retrieve her when she’s charged... if she’s still alive.”

My sunny hope disappeared behind a cloud.

“Fine,” he spat. “But we’re taking her mother. She is a prisoner of the Crowns, and she’s subject to execution.” He pointed at the cave. “Turn her over.”

The little girl pursed her lips and spun to the group at her back. They circled around her and crouched, their whispers hidden by the howling wind.

Luther watched them shrewdly. His hands twitched, and his weakened magic misted around me, preparing to solidify into a shield at a moment’s notice.

The girl glanced back our way. Her eyes fell on me, looking inexplicably sad. She began chewing on her lip, and despite her adult-like eloquence, suddenly she looked very much the child that she was.

“Godstone,” Luther said suddenly, insistently. “They brought godstone weapons into your realm.”

A few of the group raised their brows and looked to each other with loaded stares. One of them bent at the girl’s side and whispered in her ear.

She lifted her chin. “The Lumnos Prince is correct. You may not bring godstone into our realm without our Crown’s consent. Not even if your business here is legitimate.”

“How are we supposed to get his consent when your King refuses to answer every messenger hawk we send?” the commander snapped.

“I must have missed the law allowing a low-level Fortos grunt to do whatever he wants if a Crown doesn’t respond as quickly as he’d like,” Luther said. “In fact, the law I remember says anyone brandishing godstone weapons without consent is subject to immediate execution.” His smile was vicious. “Perhaps we should all go see the Montios Crown.”

“Perhaps so,” the little girl agreed with a grin.

The commander paled. “No need for that. It was a simple mistake.” He shoved me, staggering back like I was poisonous. “We’ll be on our way.”

The other soldiers took the hint and edged away, hurriedly sheathing their godstone weapons or hiding them behind their backs.

I held up my shackled wrists. “Forgetting something?”

He threw me a nasty smirk. “Consider it our gift to the Montios King so you don’t kill him, too.”

He and his soldiers stumbled backward, refusing to turn their backs on the Montios Descended.

“This isn’t over,” the commander called out to me. “You and your mother can’t run forever.”

“Send my love to your new Crown,” I yelled back. “I hear she’s a real pain in the ass.”

He paused, frowning. “ She? ”

A few of the Montios Descended raised their palms, and their magic swirled in the air, its frosty bite sending a shiver over my skin. My heart leapt at the prospect of absorbing it, but the magic brushed past me and continued on.

The snow beneath the soldiers’ boots crackled and thinned to a flat, glossy sheet. Their legs floundered for grip against the slippery surface. One fell on his back, then another. The ground thundered beneath them and shifted into a steep incline that pitched them down the rocky slope, their shouts fading into the distance as they tumbled out of sight.

I breathed out a relieved laugh for half a second before realizing I was in no less danger. My mother was a mortal and I was a foreign Crown—both were forbidden here. If the Montios King wanted us dead, he had all the excuse he needed to do it.

The little girl walked up to me, accompanied by one of the adult Descended, an older woman who might have been her grandmother. The girl held out her hands with an expectant look. I frowned, offering mine in return. She thumbed at my shackles, examining them closely, then looked at the older woman, who shook her head.

“I’m afraid we can’t open these here, Your Majesty,” the girl said. “You’ll have to keep wearing them for now.”

I nodded silently, unsure what to think.

“Our Crown Council would like a word with you, if you don’t mind,” she added.

I blinked. If I don’t mind?

“Do I... have a choice?”

Her freckle-splattered nose scrunched in a toothy smile. “Of course. But they’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

I blinked again. They have?

“We’ll come with you,” Luther cut in. He shot me an urgent look, nostrils flaring.

The Montios Descended didn’t move. Their gazes were fixed on me, awaiting my response.

“Alright,” I agreed.

The girl beamed and beckoned us to follow. One of the adults waved a hand toward the cave, and after a brief moment of trembling earth, the slab of stone across the entrance crumbled to dust.

My mother ran out in a panic, face pale and weapon high. Her knuckles were bloody and scraped as if she’d been trying to claw her way out.

Her focus dropped to the shackles on my wrists, then snapped to the Montios Descended. She ran to my side and threw herself in front of me. “You stay away from my daughter,” she shouted.

“Calm down, Auralie,” Luther said. “We’re not in danger.”

I blinked a third time. We’re not?

The Montios Descended clutched their furs tighter around their shoulders and walked away in a single file line led by the little girl, their tattered hems snagging along the rough terrain.

We followed until they paused at a cliff that disappeared into a deep ravine. Two of them raised their palms, and shards of glittering crystals solidified from the snowy air into bricks that curved into a spiral bridge winding into the darkness below. Pebbles from the mountainside rattled down its path and wedged into the ice to give the slippery floor a safer grit. The group parted, one half taking the lead and the other pinning us in from behind.

“Are you sure about this?” I whispered to Luther. “The Montios King could execute us, too.”

“I don’t think they want to hurt you. I’ve had a suspicion about something since Umbros, and if I’m right...” He didn’t finish, but the look he gave me was bright with hopeful implication.

I cringed as ice creaked beneath my feet. I peered over the edge, my stomach somersaulting at the deadly drop below.

The world began spinning around me. My legs went liquid, and with the shackles still on my ankles, I lost my balance and pitched forward. My body hit the railing, and the ice snapped beneath my weight.

Luther’s arms were around me in an instant. He hauled me back against his chest, his hammering heartbeat nearly drowning out his snarled shouts at the Montios Descended to reinforce the bridge walls.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured over and over through heavy, shaking breaths.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” the little girl called out.

My face flushed hot with embarrassment. I forced myself to pull away from Luther, even though being held in his arms was the safest I’d felt since leaving Lumnos. “Lost my footing, that’s all,” I called back.

The girl smiled knowingly. “The height takes some getting used to. It helps if you don’t look down.”

I battled the urge to crawl into a hole and hide.

“Let me carry you the rest of the way,” Luther said, reaching for me.

“Don’t even think about it.” I swatted at him in an effort to recover my lost dignity. “I’m not a princess who needs a shining knight to whisk her off her feet.”

He persisted, his arm winding around my waist and tucking me into his hip. I glared up in protest, but he was slightly pale and his hands weren’t quite steady—perhaps I’d come closer to danger than I thought.

“I’m a bit more dark prince than shining knight,” he said. “But you’re right, you’re no princess. You’re a queen.” He leaned close and whispered. “ My Queen.”

His warm breath tickled the curve of my neck and sent energy pulsing through me. “Too bad,” I hummed. “A queen needs a king, not a prince.”

The corner of his lips hooked up at my teasing lilt. “Well, I was supposed to be a king,” he said dryly, “and then some beautiful upstart showed up and stole my crown.”

A loud laugh burst out of me, causing a few of the Descended to glance back with alarmed stares. I bit back my smile. “Who knows, my dark Prince, maybe you’ll become a king someday yet.”

The words came out before I could overthink them. What they might imply—what I might be offering. My heart squirmed under the burn of his probing eyes.

“I don’t think so,” he said after a long pause. “I’m not letting you die on my watch.”

I started to correct him, then paused as my eyes caught on my mother. Her posture was taut, her biting glare locked on the place where Luther’s hand had drifted high on my ribs.

I flushed and pushed him away, then immediately scolded myself for doing it. I had to tell my mother the truth—just as soon as we weren’t in the midst of some new mortal peril.

Thankfully, Luther hadn’t seemed to notice. His attention was on an archway that had appeared in the sheer rock face. Another ice bridge grew at its base, its winding path merging seamlessly into ours.

“Why is the child the only one who talks?” I whispered to Luther.

“Montios Descended are extremely reclusive. Once their magic comes in, they don’t speak to outsiders. Some of them never speak again at all.”

“Oh, they’re going to hate me.” I groaned, and the sound was amplified by the miles of barren stone, drawing a wave of frowns. I shot Luther a pointed look that screamed: See?

At the end of the walkway, we stepped into a tunnel of carved stone. My relief at being on solid ground vanished the moment I looked back to see the bridge crumble and plummet out of sight, destroying our only way out.

“Your companions may stay here,” the girl said to me. She gestured to a room off the main corridor appointed with comfortable chairs and a roaring fireplace. “We’ll have warm food and tea brought while they wait.”

I stiffened. “I’m not leaving them behind.”

“I must insist, Your Majesty. Only Montios Descended may go beyond this point.”

“But I’m not a Montios Descended.”

“Go on,” Luther urged. “I’ll stay with your mother.” He flashed a teasingly suspicious stare at the little girl. “You look very dangerous. You won’t hurt us, will you?”

She giggled and shook her head emphatically.

I eyed the adults who accompanied her. “You give your word they’ll be safe here?”

They bowed their heads low, which I had no choice but to take as their agreement.

My mother lagged behind, studying the corridor and its entrance with rapt concentration. The thought of leaving her and Luther alone had me wondering if it was the Montios Descended I should really be worried about.

“Mother?” I called out.

Her gaze snapped to me. “Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. We’ll be fine.” She hurried over, pulling me into an awkward embrace, then hissing in my ear. “Pay close attention. Even the other Descended don’t know what goes on here. Look for maps that show their cities or any sign of weapons stockpiles. And see if you can find any other way in or out.”

I jerked back sharply. Was she trying to assign me a Guardians mission?

I pried her arms off before she could spot my disgust. I’d learned my lesson about turning information over to the rebels. I wouldn’t be doing it again—not even for her.

I walked beside the elderly woman and the little girl while the other Descended fell into a line in our trail. We continued in silence down the corridor until it ended in a slab of solid rock.

The woman placed her palm against it. At her touch, a series of lines surfaced as if being carved from within. A doorway appeared with the Montios sigil etched into its face then slid away, opening a path for us to enter.

We continued on, and the corridor opened up to a brightly lit atrium. The high ceiling looked to be glass, but from the brisk bite in the air, I suspected it was cast from solid ice. It was a clever, staggered design that left snow lightly gathered on its surface—to conceal it from view, I guessed—while allowing sunlight to diffuse through in a muted glow.

The atrium was scattered with towering stone columns, and firelit torches threw dancing swirls of amber across the walls. At the center of the room, a crystal-clear statue of the goddess Montios loomed tall, with candles in clear jars lining the steps leading up to its stone base.

It was a simple place, lacking the garish opulence of Lumnos, but there was a serene beauty to it all the same. I sensed innately that this was a place of reflection, a haven for tranquility and thought. Though Descended wove their way through the columns in small groups, the whispers of their robes carried further than their voices.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“I’m pleased you like it,” the woman answered.

I startled at her voice—strong and steady, unafraid to disturb the sanctity of the quiet.

“You... talk,” I said, a little stupidly.

She smiled. “Yes, I do.” Her head lowered. “Welcome to Montios, Your Majesty.”

Behind her, the other Descended bowed their heads again. I returned the gesture, feeling a mix of relief and disquiet at their politeness. There wasn’t a single scowl, sneer, or suspicious glare among them. I didn’t receive this kind of warm welcome from my own subjects, let alone those of a foreign realm I was in uninvited.

The woman turned to the child and gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder. “Thank you, Maybell. Service is a virtue, and you served your people well.”

The girl beamed proudly for a moment, then quickly wiped the expression away and lowered her chin. “Let us seek virtue in all things,” she said softly, the words sounding automatic.

“Will you serve us once more and fetch your father to remove Her Majesty’s chains?”

“Yes, Councilor Hepta.” The girl threw a shy smile at me before scurrying off down a nearby hall.

The woman—Hepta—beckoned me to follow. As a group, we strode across the heart of the soaring atrium. I cringed at the loud screech of my shackles as they dragged across the stone floor.

“Why do your people not speak to outsiders?” I asked.

“Blessed Mother Montios made these mountains her home because she believed being isolated and spending time in silence enhances the mind and opens us to higher truths. We carry on those same teachings today.”

I quickly bit back my own terse thoughts. What good was a higher truth if you kept it secret from everyone else?

“The little girl said your King was expecting me?” I asked instead.

“Our Crown Council,” Hepta corrected. She looked amused. “His Majesty said your arrival would be full of surprises. As usual, he was not wrong.”

I frowned, wondering why the King’s advisors wished to see me—and how the King had known I would be coming.

“He told us much about you,” she added.

“That’s strange. I only met him once, at my coronation, and... well, I’m guessing you know how that went.”

As one, Hepta and the other Descended placed two fingers to their lips and murmured a word I couldn’t make out.

“A terrible tragedy,” she said sadly. “Such violence is a stain on our land.”

“Land that is already too deeply stained,” I mumbled.

She nodded. “Indeed. Peace is a virtue.”

“Let us seek virtue in all things,” the Descended chanted in unison.

Hepta led me into a large room with a long, narrow table bearing the snow-capped mountains of the Montios insignia. She gestured for me to take a chair at the far end, and she and the others took chairs along either side. Two older children walked in with trays, one setting paper and ink in front of a few seats, and the other distributing mugs of steaming tea.

“Would you like something warm to eat?” Hepta asked.

My stomach growled in hopeful answer, but I declined, too unnerved by this odd place to think of eating. I laughed nervously. “Does this mean you won’t be executing me for coming unannounced?”

Several heads jerked to me in surprise.

Hepta frowned. “Of course not. You are welcome here.” She relaxed back into her seat. “Perhaps an introduction is in order. My name is Hepta, and I am the Elder of the Crown Council of Montios. Seated here are my fellow Councilors, each of whom has been elected by our people.”

“Elected?” My brows rose. “Your King does not select his own advisors?”

“Montios governs itself differently from the other realms. Here, it is our Council, not our Crown, that makes decisions for our realm. The Crown is a member of the Council, but the rest of us are chosen by the people of Montios. If we cannot come to an agreement, the Crown’s will is decisive. Otherwise, they have only one vote, the same as each of us here.”

Unexpected admiration flowed through me. In the Umbros library, I’d read about mortals using systems like these, but I never imagined them existing among the monarchistic and power-obsessed Descended.

“That’s very, uh... fair,” I stammered.

“Fairness is a virtue,” one Councilor said.

“Let us seek virtue in all things,” the others responded.

A man rushed in, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He gave a hasty bow to the group and darted toward me, then paused. His eyebrows rose high, his expression implying a question I didn’t understand.

“Um... hello,” I said hesitantly.

“Nector has taken a vow of silence,” Hepta explained. “But he will remove your shackles, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes!” I gave him a bright smile. “I’d like that very much.”

His cheeks turned pink at the attention, and even pinker as his hand brushed mine to examine the iron cuffs latched to my wrist. He pulled out a stack of tools from his bag, carefully unwrapping each one from its cloth cocoon and setting them down gingerly to avoid the slightest sound.

“Thank you for intervening to help,” I said to the Councilors as he worked. “I’m not sure we would have survived, had you not come when you did.”

Hepta sighed wearily. “The army is getting overbold. The Fortos King has been pushing the boundaries, and now his soldiers do the same.”

“This is not the Blessed Kindred’s way,” a Councilor said with an angry sniff. “Fortos was given control of the continent’s army under the agreement it would act only with the consent of all Crowns. These new rules are a disgrace.”

“New rules?” I asked.

Hepta nodded. “During the Blood War, the Crowns disagreed on how far the army should go to stop the rebellion. It was nearly impossible for them to come to any unanimous agreement, so a decision was made that the army could act on a vote of six Crowns, instead of nine.”

“Some concessions were given in exchange,” another said. “The use of godstone, as your Prince pointed out.”

“Concessions the Fortos King apparently does not intend to honor,” one man grumbled.

A soft clink drew my attention as the shackles on my wrists popped open, even though I’d barely heard or felt a thing. Nector cringed, seeming embarrassed I’d noticed.

“That’s very impressive,” I said to him.

The flush on his cheeks spread across his face, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to smile.

“Humility is a virtue, Nector,” one of the Councilors said in a scolding tone.

Nector looked ashamed and quickly lowered his eyes, turning to the shackles at my feet.

I frowned. “Surely there’s nothing wrong with taking pride in a job well done.”

“Pride is not a virtue,” the Councilor said. “A job well done is its own reward.”

Nector adeptly removed the last of the irons from my ankles, then painstakingly wrapped them in cloth to keep from making any noise—a task I promptly ruined by loudly and effusively praising his work. By the time he finally scurried out, he was beet red from head to toe, but there was a spring in his step I hadn’t seen before.

“You disagree with our methods,” Hepta noted. “You do not believe that we should seek to be virtuous in all that we do?”

“Who decides what it is to be virtuous? Where I come from, what’s considered virtuous for a man is called scandalous for a woman. The virtues a Descended is encouraged toward are punished in a mortal. Acts that harm no one are labeled vices, while the loudest purveyors of virtue do the most harm of all. All this to keep some groups in power and others subservient. I admit, I find no honor in that.”

Another Councilor bristled. “We do not do such things here. All our people are equal.”

A bitter snort broke through before I could stop it. “The mortals you exiled might disagree.”

“That was done to protect them. They cannot survive the climate here as we can. We were finding their corpses on the mountain, dead from hunger or the cold. We did not wish to see any more lives lost.”

“So you cast them out instead of helping them.”

“We did offer to help them,” Hepta cut in. “Many times. They did not trust our Council.”

“Were there any mortals on this Council?” She didn’t answer, and I arched an eyebrow. “Were they even allowed to vote on its members?”

The male Councilor scoffed. “We hardly enforce the exile. We’ve always turned a blind eye to the mortals hiding in the Forgotten Lands. Including that damn rebel camp. And look what’s come of it. Our King—”

“ Peace , Councilor,” Hepta interrupted. “Anger is not a virtue.”

He sank back in his chair and closed his eyes as he swallowed his irritation.

My back straightened. “You know about the Guardian camp?”

“So do you, it seems,” someone murmured.

I internally swore.

“The rumors are true, then?” Hepta asked. “You and your mother are Guardians?”

These were dangerous waters, but for some reason, I didn’t want to lie to these people. They’d saved my life, freed me from my shackles, and welcomed me into their home. My plan to win over allies in Umbros had imploded—perhaps fate was offering me a second chance.

I drew in a deep breath. “I will not speak for my mother, but... yes, I was a Guardian once. I was raised as a mortal, and I joined because I, too, want to end the violence and prejudice that has gone on for so long.” I sighed. “And I left for the same reason. There were some—not all, but some—who wished to see every Descended killed. I couldn’t agree to that, so I walked away.” I hesitated for a moment. “But I would be lying if I claimed to no longer believe in their cause. I only hope to achieve it with as little bloodshed as possible.”

The room was quiet for a long time. The Councilors looked at each other, their expressions conveying messages I couldn’t interpret. I shifted uneasily in my seat.

“You could be executed for admitting that,” Hepta said quietly. “Even as the Crown.”

“I could,” I agreed. “But I’m taking you at your word that you believe in fairness, and what’s been done to the mortals is anything but fair.” I offered a wry smile. “And besides—honesty is a virtue.”

“Let us seek virtue in all things,” they answered as one.

A man who had not yet spoken hunched over the paper and ink set in front of him. The soft scratches of scribbling filled the room as everyone fell silent in deference. When he was done, he passed the paper to the Councilor beside him, who read it aloud. “The soldiers claimed you killed the King of Fortos. Is that true?”

They all leaned forward, their interest piqued.

“I did,” I confessed. “He attacked my Prince unprovoked, and he nearly killed me. I did my best to avoid it, but it was his life or mine.”

The Councilor who’d snapped at me earlier wrung his hands in his lap. “We never celebrate a life cut short, but perhaps this will solve some of our concerns. The new Fortos King may be less aggressive than his predecessor.”

The eyes of the Councilor who’d written his question studied me like he knew the secret I was hiding. He reached for his paper, then paused, leaning back in his chair.

“Fortos’s problems are its own,” Hepta said. “We are called to look after this realm. The time has come to address our problem in the east.”

My weight shifted nervously as I felt sorely out of place. I itched with an urge to demand their intentions with me, but I held my silence, worried I’d pushed my luck enough as it was.

Hepta’s focus settled back on me. “Recently, we heard rumors of a powerful Descended working with the Guardians.”

“I’ve heard those rumors myself.”

“At first, we paid it no mind. The rebels have been in the Forgotten Lands for a long time. We’ve found that if we leave them be, they do the same.”

“What are the Forgotten Lands?”

“An area of the realm we do not enter,” one Councilor said, twisting his face in disgust. “That land is evil. Cursed . Few Descended are willing to go, and most who do are never seen again.”

My eyebrows leapt to the sky. I’d never been taught about any place like this in school. Then again, if there was a place Descended feared to enter, they surely wouldn’t want the mortals finding out.

“After the rumors began, Descended passing through on the Ring Road started turning up dead,” Hepta continued. “Not just killed, but tortured and defiled. Their bodies were strung up from the trees with a symbol carved into their skin—a ten-pointed star.”

“What does the symbol mean?”

“We don’t know. We’ve asked Sophos to research it. Meanwhile, the violence is spreading to other realms. Last week, an entire fishing village in Meros was decimated. Three hundred adult Descended killed, and that symbol was carved into every corpse.”

My breath caught. “And the children?”

Her face turned grave. “Vanished without a trace.”

My fingernails screeched against the stone table as my hands squeezed into fists and my blood boiled. This sounded too much like the brand of slaughter Vance had espoused. I had to wonder if he was somehow involved—or, gods forbid, if there were more Guardians like him than I thought.

Without warning, one Councilor stood up and directed a fierce glare my way. “Is it you?” she hissed. “Are you the one helping them?”

“What?” I gasped. “Gods, no.”

A few Councilors stood, placing their hands on her shoulders and urging her to calm. Tears welled in her eyes as she jabbed a finger at me. “Tell us the truth! Are they dead because of you?”

I shook my head frantically. “I would never bring harm to an innocent.” Bile rose in my throat at the mere thought—until I remembered the guards who had died at the armory, and my body drooped with shame. “Not knowingly, at least.”

“Peace, Councilor,” Hepta chided.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You swear it? You have not come to do the same to us?”

My hands flew to my heart. “I swear it on my life. On everyone I love. I wish to end suffering, not encourage it.”

The woman seemed to find some solace in my words. The anger flooded out of her in a shuddering breath, though it was replaced by a look of helpless fear.

“Forgive her, Your Majesty,” Hepta begged. “Emotions have been high since the Umbros attack.”

I stilled. “Umbros attack?”

“Three days past. It’s too early to know how many were lost, but we hear the casualties were significant.”

A chill slithered over me. Three days ago, I was meant to be spending my final day in Umbros as a guest of the Queen. My magic had been at its peak, and four of the strongest Descended I knew were at my side. If we had stayed...

If we had stayed, Luther would be dead. But how many more might be alive?

Hepta went on. “Like us, the Umbros Queen has looked the other way on the rebels in her realm. In return, they left her people alone, as they have here. But if they’re no longer honoring that truce...”

“Then Montios could be the next target,” I finished. They all nodded, sharing looks of concern.

I leaned my forearms on the table, my hair spilling around me as I dipped my head. The weight of the world seemed to hang on my shoulders. Even if Montios wasn’t next, Lumnos could be. Whoever this Descended man leading the attacks was, he needed to be stopped.

And if my visions could be trusted, then Luther and I were destined to be the ones to do it.

But how? I had no army, few allies. I was a fugitive on the run and the Queen of two realms who didn’t want me. I wasn’t even sure I was going to be allowed to leave this realm alive.

My gaze rose slowly to the Councilors. “I will help you however I can, but I have to ask... why are you telling me this?”

Hepta’s head cocked, the creased lines of her aging face becoming more prominent with her frown. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Why save me and bring me here? What is it your Crown wants from me?”

“Your Majesty... you are our Crown.”