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

Chapter 65

Chapter

Sixty-Five

T he first day, all I did was scream .

Like all the realms, Sophos magic was two-fold in nature. Some were graced with the power of spark —a buzzing, electrifying current that gave power to many of its cutting-edge inventions. Others claimed the power of thought —an ability to memorize everything they’d ever seen, heard, or read, turning their head into a trove from which they could recall even the tiniest detail with ease.

Then there were the lucky few who inherited both—like me.

It was the former that initially rendered me frantic, trapped in an endless bolt of lightning that sent my body into rigid convulsions as I pleaded to the Kindred to make it stop.

Poor Luther was helpless, forced to stay on the Montios side of the border to keep access to his magic in case we were attacked. He hovered as close as he could, offering comforting words as my staticky hair danced and the grass around me sizzled to a blackened crisp. By the time I passed out from exhaustion, he looked as traumatized as I felt.

The second day, my mind became the greater enemy. Even the tendrils of sparking energy still snapping across my skin couldn’t distract me from the throbbing pressure in my head. All my memories replayed in overwhelming clarity, the magic unlocking details I hadn’t known that I ever knew.

Thankfully, the magic only seemed to enhance the memories I’d already formed, leaving all that I’d forgotten forever lost to the past.

Less thankfully, the memories I did have were too often of my lowest lows. I managed to crawl back to the Montios side, and Luther cradled me against his chest as I relived every dark moment in merciless, excruciating detail.

It wasn’t until day three that I managed to scrape together enough control to resume our journey into the realm’s capital of Sophos City, and even that was a hard-fought battle.

“This city never ceases to amaze me,” Luther said as our horses trotted down the city’s main road. “It’s like stepping into another time.”

I stared up at the towering buildings of metal and glass in mind-bending designs that seemed to defy the laws of the natural world. The paved streets bustled with strange machines, some carrying people that zipped impatiently around us.

Luther led us down a quiet side street, and I pulled my hood low and kept my distance as he negotiated with the owner of an inn to let us tie up our horse. As we walked away, the innkeeper stared at us both, and I became acutely aware of how obvious it was we didn’t belong.

For starters, our horse was the only beast of burden in sight, and our casual, road-worn clothes were painfully out of fashion. Most residents wore smart, cleanly tailored suits in elegant fabrics, though the Descended penchant for excess came through in details like ballooning sleeves, oversized jeweled buttons, and overcoats that trailed like billowing capes.

We were also the only two people in sight that weren’t in a race to get where we were going. Our leisurely pace drew irritated looks from passersby who nearly bowled us over as they scurried past.

Though many foreign Descended and even mortals mixed among the crowds of pink-irised Sophos Descended, everywhere we walked, the rainbow of eyes lingered on us.

“It’s a good thing we’re not trying to hide,” I said. “I’m not sure we could stick out more if we tried.”

“It hardly matters. With your power, the Sophos Crown will have felt your presence by now.”

I frowned up at Luther. “Why didn’t you feel my presence in Lumnos before I became Queen?”

“I did. A few weeks before we met, I started to sense it—I assume that’s when you stopped taking the flameroot. I thought it was one of the younger cousins whose magic was beginning to manifest. I didn’t realize it was you until your last visit to the palace, when I noticed it got stronger every time you came around.”

I managed a weak smile despite my wearied state. “That explains why you got so handsy with me that day.”

He glowered. “More like jealousy. I saw that guard touch you, and I had to intervene before I liberated his spine from his flesh.” His hand roped around my hips. “And that would be a kindness compared to what I’d do if he tried it now.”

I wasn’t proud of the thrill that flushed through me at his violent words—but I wasn’t denying it, either.

“I wonder what those are.” I pointed to a row of mammoth structures on a hill. With their grand marble pediments and intricately carved wooden panels, the buildings looked ancient amid the shiny newness of the city.

Luther cocked his head. “They’re the old mortal institutions. I remember learning about them in school. The one on the left was a library, and the tall one was a university.”

I stared at a pile of fallen ruins between the buildings. Bits of words and etchings were visible on the larger stones. I could feel my newly enhanced brain cataloguing every letter and symbol, permanently recording them into my memory.

“What happened there?” I asked.

His muted glance warned me I wouldn’t like the answer. “It used to be a temple in the old mortal religions. The other buildings were kept in use, but that one was torn down for heresy.”

My fists clenched at the wasteful loss. “They taught that in the Descended schools? Why should your kind get to learn more about mortal history than we do? It’s not enough to ban us from practicing our faith, you have to hoard all knowledge of it for yourselves, too?”

He held his tongue, though muscles feathered along his jaw.

I sighed, forcing my temper down. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I have no more claim over the mortals than you do.”

“Yes, you do. Perhaps not by blood, but...” He gazed stormily at the temple. “You understand what it means to be mortal in a way I never will.”

There was a sadness hiding there that took me by surprise. It was hard to think of someone like Luther, who had been afforded every advantage, feeling like that same privilege had taken something valuable away.

But it had. Despite the Descended’s best efforts to squash it, the mortals had created a culture all our own—a vibrant one, full of music and art and rich storytelling, a close-knit community that loved and lost together, fought and died together. We found pockets of beauty and humor in our suffering, and when we couldn’t find them, we created them as both an act of defiance and an act of survival.

It was no coincidence that the Guardians referred to each other as Brothers and Sisters—the shared trauma of our oppression had bonded the mortals in a familial way. We had our issues, as all families do, but I wouldn’t trade my years among them for all the privilege in the world.

“I hope you know how much I want to make things right for the mortals, too,” Luther said. “I do consider them my people, even if they do not.”

“I do.” I pulled his hand from my waist and laced my fingers with his. “When we get back to Lumnos, I want to show you around Mortal City. Introduce you to the people I grew up with.” I smiled wickedly. “Show you all the ways I got into trouble.”

His answering smile was genuinely eager. “I’d like that.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “You could build a house there, if you want. Perhaps somewhere near your family’s old home, so you can visit your father’s grave whenever you like.”

I froze in the middle of the walkway. Pedestrians swore at me under their breath as they darted past. “Don’t I have to live at the palace?”

“You’re the Crown. You don’t have to do anything. The palace is useful for meetings and banquets, but there’s no reason you can’t live elsewhere.” His lips hooked up. “We could have our orchard and goats right here in Emarion.”

A flock of songbirds took flight in my chest, soaring and trilling their joy.

I leaned in closer. “We have more than one goat now? Our little family is growing fast.”

“Well, we can’t let our first goat be lonely. If we’ve found each other, Taran Junior needs his mate, too.”

I grinned. “You named our goat after Taran?”

A mischievous spark danced in his gaze. “I think he’ll be flattered.”

“I think you’ll have to sleep with one eye open. We’ll have to get a donkey and name it Aemonn to win him back over.”

Luther’s head dropped back as he roared a laugh loud enough to draw looks across the road. It was a rare sight to see him so unreservedly joyous. I embraced the Sophos magic as it committed every detail to memory, grateful to know I could relive this moment any time I pleased.

“Come on.” I tugged him down the road. “Let’s get this over with. Suddenly, I’m dying to get home.”

I pulled back my hood, letting my face warm in the sun and my milk-white curls tumble freely down my back. We’d come here to confront the Sophos Crown—no sense in hiding now.

We reached the fallen mortal temple, which was cordoned off with signs to keep away. A soft whirr and a charge in the air warned of a layer of Sophos magic protecting the site.

I let go of Luther’s hand and strolled into the crackling barrier. My skin flared bright and my magic surged with new strength.

“You there,” one of the guards barked. “Get out. That place is off limits.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” I crooned.

I pulled a shield around Luther, and together we walked into the ruins. Guards ran forward to stop us, and I conjured a thick wall of white-hot light to block their path.

Luther arched a brow. “This will make the Sophos Crown see you as a threat.”

“Good.” I raised up on my toes and briefly pressed my lips to his. “That’s exactly what I am.”

He tried to pull me in, but I danced out of his reach and climbed further into the ruins. I spotted a collapsed fresco of a man leaning against a tree and crouched beside it for a closer look. Though the details had faded with time, the paint of his hair was still a vibrant, fiery red.

“I think this is the Everflame. I saw an image like it in the Umbros palace.” My hand trailed over a crack that ran along the man’s body, obscuring his face. “I wonder who he was.”

“With that hair, he must be related to your mother,” Luther joked, kneeling at my side.

A growing crowd had formed outside my wall of light to watch as the guards pummeled it with their spark magic, though their efforts had little effect.

“Did they teach you anything about the Everflame in the Descended schools?” I asked.

“Only that the mortal leaders gave the island to the Kindred as a gift. That’s why depictions of the Everflame weren’t banned before the war. It was meant to be a symbol of the mortals’ willing submission to Descended rule.”

I snorted. “They should have known better. Montios’s journal mentioned there were mortals who didn’t want them around even then.”

He shook his head with a wondrous expression. “I can’t believe you read a Kindred’s diary. What else did she say?”

“She mentioned being afraid of their youngest sibling. He sounded like a brat. You’ll have to remind me which brother that was.” I wiggled my eyebrows and grinned. “I was mysteriously ill on all the days we studied the Kindred in school.”

“You really hated the Kindred that much? Even Blessed Mother Lumnos?”

“Oh, especially Lumnos.”

Luther grimaced like my words had caused him physical pain. “Do you reject the Old Gods, too?”

“The Old Gods have never taken anything from me. And they’ve never asked anything of me, either. They’re content to sit up in the heavens and watch, and I’m content to entertain them.” I stood and propped my hands on my hips. “Well? Which Kindred was it?”

“Fortos was the youngest brother—”

“I knew it. I knew it! I just knew he must have been a little shit to his sisters.”

“—but Montios was the youngest Kindred.”

I paused. “That can’t be right...”

A loud roar rose from the front of the temple. I thinned my wall of light enough to see some kind of machine crafting a makeshift bridge over the barrier. A powerful aura brushed over us, and both our spines snapped straight in apprehension.

“Hello, Lumnos.”

Neither male nor female, King nor Queen, the elegant Crown of Sophos defied every expectation. I’d met others like them back home in Lumnos—some who danced along the spectrum between masculine and feminine, others who were something new altogether.

“You’re in my temple,” they said as they emerged at the crest of the bridge.

“It’s not your temple.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you, so I let myself in.”

They strolled forward, their gauzy, wide-legged trousers billowing in the wind. “If you wanted a private showing, you could have requested an invitation to visit.”

“You issued an edict calling for my capture. Is that not invitation enough?”

Their eyes narrowed faintly. “You’ve come to turn yourself in, then?”

“No. I’ve come to offer a trade.”

“And what trade is that?”

I lifted my chin. “My Crown for my sword.”

The Sophos Crown—whose name I’d learned was Doriel—sat rigidly on the edge of their chair as they sipped delicately on a cup of tea. They were beautiful beyond words, with sky-high cheekbones and an effortless smoothness in the way they moved. A veil of ivory gossamer lay across their cleanly shaven head, held in place by a plain gold circlet, rather than their Crown of glimmering sparks.

“I could have you killed for coming to my realm uninvited, you know,” Doriel said.

“You could certainly try. Though you might ask Ignios how that plan worked out for him. Or Umbros.” My lips lifted in a smirk. “Or Fortos.”

I lounged back lazily and stared up at the hand-painted ceilings adorning the library sitting room Doriel had led me to so we could speak alone. Knowing this room had been built by the mortals of old, I was having to fight hard not to turn into a gawking, awestruck rube.

Doriel’s gaze trailed over me with fascination. “So you’ve been touring more than just my temple.”

“Like I said—it’s not your temple.”

“Is the palace of Lumnos not your palace?”

“My palace was built by the Lumnos Crowns. That temple was stolen from the mortals.”

“It was fairly given. I have the paperwork evidencing the transfer in my records.”

My eyes rolled skyward. “Oh, I have no doubt some mortal king offered it up to curry favor from the Kindred, but it never belonged to them. It belonged to the people. Leaders are supposed to guard their people’s treasures, not chop them up and give them away.”

“I agree. That’s why they were given to us for safekeeping.” Doriel gestured broadly to the room. “There was a time when the continent was full of magnificent buildings just like these.”

I sat up slightly. “It was?”

“We have copious records on the mortal creations. I can show them to you, if you’d like.”

My fingers gripped tight to the armrest as I swallowed down my enthusiasm. “Did the Kindred destroy those buildings, too?”

“No. The mortals did. They had their own wars before the Kindred’s arrival. Sadly, countless treasures were casualties of those conflicts—buildings, art, maps, books. The ruler of these lands offered them up to Blessed Father Sophos in the hopes he would protect them from meeting the same fate.”

“And yet the temple did.”

Doriel let out a long sigh. “It was our fourth Crown who ordered its destruction. A poor decision, I agree. Knowledge is our most valuable resource. I do not believe in erasing it.”

“Just hoarding it for yourself,” I muttered. “What good is safeguarding mortal treasures if the mortals aren’t allowed to use them?”

They bristled. “Any mortal can request a visit, and every worthy request is granted.”

“And what makes a request worthy?”

“A documented history of study and interest. Trustworthy references. No criminal activity.”

“In my realm, ‘study and interest’ of mortal history is criminal activity. How is any mortal ever supposed to qualify?”

“Mortals from Lumnos have visited before. One arrived not long ago.” Doriel’s lips slid into a cold smile. “Regardless, that seems like a problem the Crown of Lumnos needs to address.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s why I’m here. My Regent tells me I must complete the coronation ritual to take my throne. So...” I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “What’s it going to take to make that happen, Doriel?”

They sipped lightly at their tea. “There are several obstacles. Serious concerns about your legitimacy as the Lumnos Crown, to say nothing of your assistance to the rebels.”

“You saw my Crown with your own eyes. And if I wasn’t a Crown, I couldn’t do this.” I held out my palms and sent a deluge of darkness through the room. It cascaded into a sea of ebony liquid that splashed against the walls, then churned into a swirling whirlpool around our chairs.

Doriel’s teacup rattled against its saucer as they lifted their feet. “Stop it,” they hissed. “You’ll ruin my books.”

I let the magic linger a little longer—long enough for Doriel to yelp as the tide of shadows licked against their waist—then banished them with a flick.

“They’re not your books, either.” I waved a hand at the room, bone-dry and unaffected by my magic. “I would never hurt them. These books mean as much to me as they do to you.”

Doriel slammed their cup down and stalked to the bookshelves, meticulously inspecting them for damage. Once satisfied I’d done no harm, they turned back in a huff. “If you’re the Lumnos Crown, how do you explain what happened at the coronation? Your blood broke the heartstone, and the gems on the ritual dagger should have turned blue, not grey.” They stilled, then leaned forward, their gaze thinning in scrutiny. “Just like your eyes...”

“At the time, I was as confused as you. But I think I now have an explanation.” I frowned. “Or at least a partial one. If you’re willing to listen.”

With as little detail as I could get away with—and some creative embellishing to hide my worst misdeeds—I told Doriel the story of my last few weeks: My kidnapping by the Guardians. My flight into Ignios, then Umbros. My visit to my mother in Fortos and its King’s unprovoked attack, leading to his death and my mother’s escape. My confrontation with Ophiucae, and my mother’s revelation about who he was to me.

For now, I left out the full truth of my spectrum of magic—and my two new Crowns.

“You’re saying this man has been chained up on Coeur?le for years?” Doriel said when I finished. “And he’s your father?”

“My sire,” I corrected. “Andrei Bellator is my father. I’ve never met this man.”

“How did he get on the island?”

“I was hoping you might have an answer for that. Is there anything in your archives that might shed some light?”

Doriel’s eyes glazed over. They seemed to lose themself sifting through thousands of stored memories in rapid succession—all the books they’d ever read, all the records they’d ever reviewed.

My instincts poked at me to reach inside their head and take a peek. With the whole of Emarion’s history at their fingertips, there was no telling the priceless information they knew. The things I could learn...

Doriel shifted their weight and stiffly shook their head. “No. Nothing I’m aware of.”

My godhood snarled, the Umbros magic within me sensing the lie.

“Nothing?” I pushed. “I can’t imagine the Crowns would abandon a man in their most sacred space without leaving an explanation. If anyone would know why, it would be you.”

They pursed their lips. “Indeed. But I do not.”

Lie .

“And his symbol—the ten-pointed star?” I had to fight an urge to touch the glowing mark concealed beneath my scarf. “The Montios Council said they asked you to research it.”

Doriel’s lashes fluttered as their eyes briefly lowered. “We haven’t found anything yet.”

Another lie .

I slumped back into my chair. I could reach into their mind and take the truth, but it might kill any hope of a truce.

“You said you’ve come to offer a trade,” Doriel said, clearly keen to change the subject. “Your Crown for your sword?”

I nodded. “This man is dangerous. He hates the Descended and wants revenge on all of us. And he’s incredibly strong. I felt his power in Montios—I might be the only person who can defeat him.”

They tittered a laugh. “You are strong, I’ll give you that, but even your power does not equal the Emarion Army. Now that we know where this man is hiding, the Crowns can order soldiers there to—”

“It won’t work. Didn’t you try that before, and the entire battalion went missing?”

“Obviously Fortos didn’t send enough.”

“You can send every soldier in the army. Hell, you can send every Descended in Emarion. It won’t be enough to kill him. Only I can do that.”

Their upper lip pulled back as they looked me over. “You’re mighty confident in your own strength.”

“It’s not about strength. There’s... something else.” I hesitated. Was it was wise to reveal so many valuable secrets to a person who refused to do the same?

Did I really have a choice?

I sighed and spread my arms. “Use your magic. Attack me.”

Doriel tensed. “What are you getting at?”

“Go on,” I urged. “Hit me with your spark magic.”

“If you’re trying to provoke me into a fight by getting me to hurt you—”

I threw a note of mocking challenge in my voice. “Oh, don’t worry . You could never hurt me .”

My gambit worked, and wounded ego flared in their eyes. They raised their hand, and a jagged bolt of energy sparked from their palm to my heart.

I had to give it to Doriel—it hadn’t been enough to kill me, but had their magic not absorbed with a tingle and a burst of light, I would have been convulsing on the floor instead of smiling calmly in my chair.

They jerked back. “Your shield... I can’t see it.”

“I didn’t shield your magic. I absorbed it.” I waved my hand. “Go on, try it again.”

This time, they didn’t hesitate—and they didn’t hold back. The electric jolt that slammed into me next would have left me a smoking corpse.

“You’re getting stronger,” they breathed in awe as my aura pulsed with the newly captured magic.

I nodded. “I’m immune to magic. And Ophiucae is, too. I doubt the army will get close enough to him for their blades and arrows to do much good, either.”

They looked me over like a starving tiger staring down a prime cut of meat. “You’re something new . You have to stay here in Sophos. Let me study you, run a few tests—”

“We don’t have time, Doriel. This man needs to be stopped before he kills again. He knows I’m his daughter, so I don’t think he wants to hurt me. I might be the only person who can take him out.”

“You would kill your own father?”

I stiffened. “He’s just my sire. I have no feelings toward him.”

Another lie.

Doriel assessed me for a long moment. “So you’re offering yourself as an assassin in exchange for your coronation?”

“And a full pardon for these crimes I’ve been falsely accused of. I had no more idea about the attack on the island than you did. I’m not going to work with all of you only to have you turn on me the second he’s dead.”

Even though that’s exactly what I plan to do to you , I thought.

“Even if I called a ritual, the other Crowns might have their own objections.”

“Let them object. Montios was the only Crown who didn’t complete the ritual.” I shifted in my chair. “Their consent won’t be a problem.”

“You still need six votes for a pardon.”

I carefully guarded my reaction. I controlled three Crowns—three votes. If my mother was right about the Arboros Queen, I was hopeful I could count on hers. That meant I needed Doriel’s vote and one other. Umbros and Ignios would never agree to spare me—that left only Faunos and Meros.

“I saw you and Meros talking at my coronation. You two are allies, are you not?”

“Our relationship is cordial,” Doriel hedged, looking wary of my interest. “Why do you ask?”

“If you can convince the Meros King to agree, I can take care of the rest.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“Let me worry about that. This is all I’m asking from you. Are you willing to give it?”

“There’s still the matter of Coeur?le.” Doriel let out a soft exhale, a touch of exhaustion on their features. “The rebels’ occupation has proven harder to overcome than anticipated. The army’s soldiers are already spread too thin around the continent in case of another attack. If we call them to the island for a battle, it would leave us all vulnerable.”

“There won’t be a battle. The Guardians will give us access to the Kindred’s Temple.”

Doriel sneered. “Because they answer to you?”

“Because they answer to my mother.” I smiled tightly. “And she’ll allow it because the Crowns are going to pardon her, too.”

“ Absolutely not . Your mother is a killer.” They leapt to their feet and wagged a finger at me. “And if you think the Meros King will agree to this, you’re out of your mind. His realm has been under siege by the Guardians for months.”

“My mother has been trapped on the island since Forging Day. She couldn’t have ordered those attacks.”

“As their leader, she is responsible—”

“And what about your responsibility?” I snapped. “Mortals are dying on this continent every day. They’re starving, freezing, being tortured and imprisoned—”

“Not in my realm,” Doriel said haughtily.

“Because you exiled them all! You think that absolves you of what happens outside your borders? If you know people are dying, and you have the power to stop it but you look away, that blood is on your hands, too. And don’t think I don’t know what happens to the mortals you invite here to ‘ study .’” I prowled forward, hissing in their face. “If my mother has to answer for her people’s crimes, I’ll make sure you answer for yours.”

Doriel paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. And so do the Guardians.”

“I—we—our research...” They cleared their throat and stood taller. “The mortals in my realm are given every luxury and paid for their work. They have equal rights as any Descended. They fare better here than anywhere else in Emarion.”

“Until they end up dead in some experiment.”

To my surprise, Doriel looked genuinely pained. “Wisdom requires sacrifice. We are all grateful to those who volunteer—”

I waved them off with a grunt of disgust. “Defend your murders to someone else.” I flopped back in my chair and crossed my arms. “You have my terms, Doriel. Take them or leave them.”

“And if I leave them?”

I shrugged. “Ophiucae is coming for all the Descended eventually. I can protect my people. Can you say the same?”

Their eyes dimmed with a somber defeat. “How do I know you’ll keep your word? Maybe we’ll coronate you and never see you again.”

Again, I hesitated. “If it will get all the Crowns to agree...” I cringed, then clenched my jaw. “I’ll enter into a bonded bargain to seal the terms.”

My stomach roiled, my heart regretting the words the second they left my lips. With so much at stake, putting my magic on the line could be catastrophic—especially when I still wasn’t convinced I could follow through.

Doriel gazed at the floor, their brows furrowed in deep thought. “I’ll consider your offer. There are matters I need to look into first. Some... research I require.”

“We don’t have time. If he moves his camp, we might not find him again. And if he attacks—”

“He’s less than a day’s ride from my city. Believe me, I’m acutely aware of the risk.” Their frown carved deeper. “Give me two days. There’s plenty to read in my archives while you wait.”

I shot upright. “You’ll give me access to your books?”

Their eyes twinkled with the triumph of knowing we each had something the other wanted. They smoothed down their jacket, then motioned for me to follow as they glided toward the door. When it opened, a wave of power crashed against my skin.

Doriel and I froze.

Luther rose from where he’d been waiting in the hallway and bowed. “My Queen.” An unspoken question lay in his tone: Did it work?

“My Prince,” I crooned back. “It seems we’ll be staying a few days while Doriel makes their decision.”

Doriel eyed him uneasily. “You have your magic back?”

Luther’s expression was the perfect mix of coyness and warning. “Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t. Until you coronate my Queen and repair the Forging spell, I guess you’ll never know.”

Doriel gave us both irritated scowls. “You two could learn something about diplomacy from your Regent. Not everything needs to be a threat.”

I rolled my eyes. “My Regent has to use diplomacy. He isn’t scary enough to be a threat.”

“He forced you to come begging for my help.” They turned their nose up and strode away. “Seems he’s a bigger threat than you give him credit for.”

Those words were truer than I wanted to admit.

Luther and I followed Doriel to a cavernous reading room covered in bookshelves and lamp-lit tables. Towering stained glass windows painted rainbow swaths across rows of silent readers hunched over thick books and ancient-looking documents.

Doriel beckoned to a teenage boy behind a counter, who scurried to our side. “Stuart, Diem here is the new Crown of Lumnos. She’ll be staying with us for a few days. I’ll have my staff prepare her rooms. In the meantime, will you escort her wherever she’d like to go? She’s not yet coronated—” Doriel smiled icily at me. “—but I’ll grant her Crown-level access to our archives.”

“Of course,” Stuart gushed, then turned to me. “It would be my pleasure, Di—uh, I mean, Your Maj—uh... Quee—hmm...”

“Call me Diem,” I said, my expression warming as I noticed the boy’s brown irises. “And this is my Prince, Luther Corbois.”

Luther offered his hand in greeting, but the boy ignored it and continued to gaze at me, moony-eyed and enamored. “Hello, Diem. Where can I take you?”

Luther growled a possessive warning. I had to bite back a grin as I subtly nudged his side. “Why don’t you start by showing us your favorite places?”

“I would love to,” he gasped, sounding like it was the greatest honor he’d ever received. He held out his elbow, shivering with glee when I looped my arm in his. Luther grumbled at being relegated to trail behind us.

“Tell me about yourself, Stuart,” I urged him.

“I’m originally from Meros. My mother is a researcher here, and my father and I were permitted to join her. Doriel arranged a job for me in the library.”

My eyebrows rose. “You call your Crown by their first name?”

“Oh, yes. Doriel insists. They said the only thing titles do is encourage an inflated ego.”

I shot Luther a pointed grin over my shoulder. His answering glare was positively scathing .

“My mother’s invitation to research was for ten years, and we’ve been here almost nine,” Stuart went on. “We’re all hoping Doriel gives us a permanent offer to stay.”

My stomach dropped. If what Henri had told me about this place was true, that permanent offer might be a death sentence in disguise.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to return home to Meros?” I pushed encouragingly. “I bet your friends there miss you terribly.”

“Oh, I barely remember it. This is my home now. Besides, everyone in Meros thinks we’re dead.” He laughed to himself. “We’d have to go somewhere else. Umbros, maybe. Or Lumnos.” He beamed at me. “You could be my Queen.”

Luther growled again.

I frowned. “Why do they think you’re dead?”

“Because we—oh, would you like to see the laboratory where my mother works?” He didn’t wait for a response, tugging me enthusiastically toward the doors.

“Stuart, what did you mean by—” I sucked in a breath as we spilled out into the open air and another brush of the powerful aura coated my skin.

Stuart tugged me closer, leaning his face in to mine. “Diem, are you alright?”

Luther put his palm on Stuart’s face and shoved him away. “Off,” he snarled. “I’ll escort my Queen from here.”

Stuart squeaked and shrank back. Luther met my reproachful look with a possessive glare, gripping my ass in a way that communicated loud and clear he intended to do more than escort me. I considered scolding his coarse manners, but watching him get worked up over a mortal teen was giving me fodder to tease him for weeks to come.

And there might be the tiniest possibility that my shameless, utterly reprehensible heart was twirling at being so passionately claimed.

“Do you feel that aura?” he hummed in my ear.

“I thought it was you,” I whispered back.

“No. My magic is still locked down.”

I tensed. “Then who?”

“I don’t know. With you and Doriel nearby, it’s hard to tell where it’s coming from. Close, I think.”

I glanced nervously at the horizon north of the city, scouring the distant Ring Road for any sign that Ophiucae and the Guardians might have followed us, but I saw only endless fields of golden grass shimmering in the wind.

We followed Stuart to a glass-paneled dome filled with an impressive variety of plants. I perked up as I realized most were rare medicinal herbs that usually could only be grown in Arboros.

“My mother works here in the greenhouse,” Stuart said. “They’re trying to breed hardier versions of these plants to grow in other soils and climates. If they can do it—”

“—then more people can get access to them,” I finished excitedly. “That’s incredible. Is it working?”

He grinned and turned to face me, walking backward. “It is. My mother’s a genius. She just created a strain of eelwood that—oh, I’m so sorry!” He spun around as he collided into the back of a towering, weapon-laden man.

The man turned. “It’s alright, don’t worry about—” He froze. “Your Majesty?”

“ Perthe? ” I choked out. “What are you doing in Sophos?”

He hastily saluted and bowed. “Keeping my oath. I swore to you I wouldn’t leave his side.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of why a member of my personal guard was dawdling in a Sophos greenhouse. “Wouldn’t leave whose side?”

He stepped to the right, revealing a pair of Sophos Descended chatting with a young man.

My blood ran cold. Though his back was to me, I’d know that familiar auburn hair from miles away.

“Your brother, Your Majesty,” Perthe said. “Teller accepted an invitation to study in Sophos.”