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

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

S hit.

I’m drowning.

Consciousness rolled into me like a cresting wave. Its current dragged me up from the black depths of my groggy mind, only to curl inward and slam me back under without warning.

My eyelids felt weighted by anchors. I tried to pry them open, but the slivers of light peeking through were too watery, too shapeless to catch hold of.

For a long, confusing moment, I flirted with lucidity, not quite sure if I was awake or dreaming, until a growing fire in my chest heaved me into the present.

I’m drowning , I thought again, the realization more urgent.

I screamed for help, and the sound came out gurgled and weak. Something clamped over my nose and mouth with bruising force.

My throat closed up in a struggle to keep the liquid out despite the desperate urge of my lungs to fill with air. An enormous pressure crushed my thrashing limbs and held them still.

“Stop struggling and swallow.”

I stilled at the command. A cool breeze sent a chill prickling over my skin, which I began to realize was mostly dry and definitely not submerged.

My eyes fluttered open, and the hazy world sharpened on an unfamiliar face—a woman with dark brown skin and chestnut eyes, rows of thin braids swept into a knot atop her head.

“Swallow it, and we’ll let you breathe.” Though her tone was calm, her features were hard as stone and equally unrelenting.

I made a weak attempt at a struggle, but I could barely think past the inferno in my chest, and the woman’s unconcerned stare suggested she was perfectly content to let me drown myself out of spite.

I forced the liquid down, and the hand pinching my nose closed fell away, allowing a burst of air to pump into my lungs and cool the fiery grip of panic.

“Good,” the woman said, nodding.

She slowly peeled her palm from my lips, allowing me to suck in more air through my clenched teeth, but a quick dart of her eyes to someone I couldn’t see had a muscled arm locking tightly around my jaw.

She lifted a mug to my lips. “Again,” she commanded.

Liquid sloshed messily across my face. Fluid filled my nostrils, and the panicked sensation of drowning roared back to the surface.

“You’ll be fine,” she said calmly. “Drink up.”

With little choice otherwise, I reluctantly swallowed another mouthful, then another.

My thoughts hitched on the taste coating my mouth. There was something vaguely familiar about it—harsh, almost metallic, but with a tangy bite of citrus smothered under the chalky taste of smoke and ash.

Dread seeped into my bones. I knew that flavor—I’d started every day with a cup of it for nearly ten years.

Flameroot.

“How much of this mixture are we supposed to make them drink?” the woman called over her shoulder.

“I put in three spoonfuls per cup,” a voice answered. “Auralie’s instructions only called for one, but with this girl being a Crown, I thought she might need a stronger dose.”

My mother’s name tore through me and hauled me back to the memory of my last moment of consciousness.

I’d been on the dais at the Kindred’s Temple, surrounded by the other Crowns of Emarion’s nine realms. After surviving the Challenging to earn my place as Queen, my Rite of Coronation had gone horribly wrong. Drops of my blood had summoned a bolt of energy that fractured the heartstone and sent tremors rippling across the sacred island of Coeur?le.

You are not the Queen of Lumnos , the Sophos Crown had accused. You are an imposter .

Before I’d been able to defend myself, my mother—the woman whose disappearance eight months ago had unlocked a coffer of secrets that forever changed my life—had emerged from the bushes, screaming my name and warning me to run.

And then everything had detonated into darkness.

“Where is she?” With my jaw still clamped, the words came out as a hiss. “Is Auralie here?”

The woman held my gaze as she slid a weapon from her side and dangled it precariously over my face. The blade was black, and it glittered under the patchy sunlight trickling through the trees.

My eyes went wide.

Godstone. Having been raised as a mortal, I knew very little about the rare material. Until visiting the Kindred’s Temple, which was made entirely of the shimmering dark rock, I wasn’t sure I’d ever even seen it.

But the one thing I did know was that the godstone’s cut was toxic, usually fatal, to those with Descended blood.

“If you know what this is,” the woman said, “then you know what I’m capable of doing to you if you get any wild ideas about trying to escape.”

The arm around my jaw loosened, and I gave a slight nod. She studied me, her stern expression reinforcing the sincerity of her threat.

“Let her go,” she said finally.

The pressure holding my body in place loosened, then disappeared. As I sat up, a ring of burly men scurried backward in a rush to get away. The woman remained at my side, though she took a wide step back and kept her blade tilted toward my chest.

I looked around. I was in some kind of forest, though these trees were not the familiar oak and pine of Lumnos. The thick trunks were as wide as a horse, covered in ropey vines, and stretched mile-high into the sky. Lush ferns and rainbow-hued flowers dotted the landscape.

This was nothing like the tall grass and wild-grown brush I’d seen on the island of Coeur?le. This looked more like Emarion’s mainland—one of the southernmost realms, judging by the verdant vegetation.

A crowd stood in a circle around me with weapons drawn. Though a few other blades were also carved from godstone, most were forged from the telltale dark grey metal of Fortosian steel, which—unlike most mortal weapons—would slice easily through my fortified Descended skin.

Their expressions ranged from curiosity to wariness to outright hatred, but they all shared one common trait: brown eyes.

Mortal eyes.

The woman lowered her blade slightly. “My name is Cordellia. I’m the leader of our group.”

“I’m Diem Bellator,” I said. “I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, but I presume I’m not exactly an honored guest.”

She shook her head. “Your presence here is not welcome, nor are you a guest .”

My defensive instincts kicked in. I assessed the threats around me as my father had trained me to do. The reminder of him had a stab of grief needling at my heart, his recent murder still too fresh, but I quickly locked it away. I’d already learned how despair could consume me, if allowed to fester. I could not afford to make the same mistake twice.

There were at least forty mortals gathered around me, all armed. The faint sound of voices suggested more were nearby, and whispers drew my eyes to archers tucked high into the trees.

I had no weapons of my own. I tried to pull magic to my palms, but the effort was futile. My chest had hollowed out and my emotions had dulled to a blunt edge, signs that the flameroot had already taken effect.

I was trapped—and unnervingly vulnerable.

“Where is Auralie?” I asked again.

Cordellia’s features pinched. “She’s unavailable.” I couldn’t tell if the disapproval radiating from her expression was meant for me or my mother.

“I have no desire to hurt you,” I said truthfully. “I’m not like the other Crowns. If I can just speak with Auralie, she’ll explain. She’s my—”

“Your mother. We know. That’s why you’re still alive.”

Even with the flameroot dampening my emotions, my blood chilled.

I chose my next words carefully. “You must be close friends. My mother would not share the details of the flameroot if she did not trust you.”

Cordellia’s brows furrowed deeper. “If only she had been as forthcoming about her Descended offspring.”

Ah—the disapproval was for us both.

My smile was wry and edged with bitterness. “If it’s any consolation, she did not deem either of us worthy of that secret.”

Surprised murmurs scuttled through the crowd.

Cordellia frowned. “You did not know you were Descended?”

“Not until I inherited the Crown.” I hoped the honesty of my frustration slipped through in my sigh. “There is much I’m still learning myself—including how I came to be here with you now.”

She looked me over for a moment, then signaled to two large men, who walked toward me carrying a pair of iron shackles connected by a thick, heavy chain. They puffed out their chests as they approached, though the intimidation tactic did little to hide the nerves in their big eyes and quivering hands.

“Up,” Cordellia commanded. “Hands out, wrists together.”

It cut against everything in my nature to give in, but I was out of alternatives. I stood and clasped my hands in front of me like a prayer. As one of the men secured the shackles to my wrists, I flashed a sweet smile at the other.

“Blessed is the Everflame, Brother,” I said, batting my lashes with mock piety.

Both men froze, staring at me, then turned to Cordellia. She gestured for them to continue, but their reactions told me everything I needed to know.

These were not just any mortals.

“Is this how the Guardians of the Everflame treat a fellow Sister?” I asked, jingling the chunky metal chains.

“You’re no Guardian,” one of the men growled.

I clicked my tongue. “Wrong answer, Brother. I believe the proper response to the code words is ‘ Emarion soil, we shall reclaim. ’ Though I confess, it has been a few weeks since my last meeting.”

The man clacked the lock into place on my wrists and gave me a hard shove backward, sending me flailing ungracefully to the leaf-blanketed ground.

Cordellia barked an order that had the two men walking away with a snicker, then extended a hand to me. I shot her a distrustful look of my own, but I took her hand and let her help me back to my feet. At this close range, I towered over her by several inches. In fact, I stood taller than almost every mortal gathered in the clearing, man or woman.

I had become used to that growing up, believing myself unusually long-limbed for a mortal. Then my surprise fate as Queen had dragged me into the world of the naturally tall, muscled Descended, and I’d gone from being one of the biggest people in every room to one of the most petite—all while going from near-anonymity to the most powerful person in my realm.

It was a visible symbol of what my life had become. I lived with a foot in two worlds, each a mirror image of the other, never fitting quite right into either one. In a world of black and white, I was trying to find my place in shades of grey.

“I see you’re familiar with our group,” Cordellia said blandly.

Her restraint was impressive. Discovering that a Descended Queen had intimate knowledge of the forbidden rebel network should have been cause for alarm. Her expression showed only a placid apathy.

“Before I became Queen, I was a member of the Lumnos cell,” I explained.

Cordellia’s eyes shifted over my shoulder and narrowed. “Then it seems your mother was not the only one withholding information.”

I started to follow her line of sight, but flickers of movement from the archers froze me in place.

“And after you became Queen?” she pushed. “Did your involvement continue?”

My shoulders tensed. Cordellia’s shrewd eyes noted the movement.

“The relationship became... strained,” I hedged. “But I spoke the truth when I said I have no desire to hurt you. I am no enemy to the Guardians.”

“You’re no friend of ours, either,” a male voice rang out from behind me.

A man with pale skin and a thick, overgrown beard circled around and stepped into view. I recognized him immediately as the leader of the Lumnos cell and the man who had initiated me as a Guardian.

And the man who had branded me a traitor after I’d refused to obey his orders.

“Vance,” I said in greeting, though it came out like a snarl. “I recall being a friend when I gave you access to the royal boat.”

“Was that loyalty?” he shot back. “Or was it a woman desperate to win back her betrothed after she betrayed him and locked him in her dungeon?”

My stomach twisted at the mention of Henri. I wouldn’t give Vance the satisfaction of admitting it, but he was right—I’d helped the Guardians in a last-ditch attempt to repair the broken trust between myself and my childhood love.

It had been immeasurably reckless considering what I knew the Guardians were capable of, but I had been so lost over my father’s death, so consumed with rage at the Descended over his murder, I had naively convinced myself that I could find a way to help Henri while keeping the Guardians from taking things too far.

I should have known the Guardians would always take things too far.

Cordellia glanced between the two of us. “You never told me she helped with the planning for our attack on the island, Vance. And you certainly never mentioned she was a member of your cell.”

“Attack?” I repeated. “What attack?”

Vance shrugged lightly. “Her membership was so brief, I barely remember it. And I did tell you she has been useful, even if she isn’t trustworthy.”

“ I’m not trustworthy?” I took a few steps toward him. Cordellia wheeled her knife back in my direction to keep me at a distance. “I kept your secrets, didn’t I? And I saved your life the night of the ball. And when the guards spotted us in the canal.”

“And now I’ve returned the favor,” he snapped. “You were spared from the attack. Consider my debt to you and your mother repaid in full.”

“What debt to my mother?” I stormed closer to Vance, even as Cordellia’s godstone blade came within inches of my skin. “Where is she? And what happened on the island?”

“Step back,” Cordellia warned as she pushed herself between us.

My focus shifted to her, my voice rising with my anger. “You try to drown me, forcibly drug me, refuse to explain anything, and throw me in chains.” I raised my fists, jolting the shackles with a loud clink. “I’ll ‘ step back ’ when one of you starts giving me answers.”

One of the archers loosed an arrow, the edge of it whizzing past my ear as it barely missed my head. A few severed strands of my snow-white hair floated to the ground.

I held my glare in refusal to back down, channeling my father’s lessons as his voice whispered guidance in my ear.

Never give in to a warning shot, or they’ll only learn to shoot more often . Don’t provoke a fight unless you intend to see it through .

I locked eyes with Cordellia and leaned in until the point of her dagger sat against my throat. A dare to act—and a very dangerous gamble.

“You know my mother, so you must also know my father,” I rumbled. “And if you know anything about him , then you know I don’t need magic or weapons to defend myself if I have to.”

“See?” Vance sniped. “She’s already threatening us. I told you she couldn’t be trusted.”

I slid my gaze to Vance and held his stare until he huffed and looked away.

“Step back, Miss Bellator,” Cordellia said evenly. “Cooperate, and I’ll give you answers.”

Vance struck up his protests again, this time walking close to Cordellia and whispering his complaints too quietly for me to decipher. I watched a spark of irritation flip across her face before she reined it back in. She did not seem like a woman who let her frustration show easily—the fact Vance had pushed her this far told me there was a crack in the bond between the two Guardian leaders.

A crack I needed to widen.

I lowered my hands and took a slow step back as I dipped my chin in deference. “Forgive my anger,” I said to Cordellia. “Where he is involved, I have a difficult time giving my trust. Like you, I’ve found Vance has a habit of withholding critical details. From women, at least.” I gave her a loaded, knowing look. “Only his male colleagues were fully informed.”

Vance scoffed. “I worked with your mother for years. She never had a problem with me.”

“Really?” I cocked my head and frowned. “That’s strange. She and I often discussed who in Lumnos she trusted with sensitive information, and she never once mentioned you.”

He jabbed a finger in my direction. “You’re just trying t—”

“That’s enough, Brother Vance,” Cordellia scolded. “I can handle this.”

He stiffened and turned his glare on her. “I think you mean Father Vance.”

“Only in Lumnos. Here in Arboros, you are a Brother, same as any other man.”

Arboros , Realm of Root and Thorn .

I should have known. During my time as a Guardian, I’d heard the Lumnos and Arboros cells were working together on a mission, and Henri and my former healer colleague Lana, both Guardians, had left for Arboros days before the Rite of Coronation.

Vance crossed his arms. “I’m a realm leader just like you, Mother Cordellia. I’ve earned my title.”

“Did you?” I cut in. “Henri told me you were just borrowing the title until the woman in charge returned.”

Cordellia nodded. “She’s right, Vance. You’re only the Lumnos Father until Auralie can resume her post as the leader of the Guardians.”

Leader of the Guardians.

Blood rushed from my head.

“What did you say?” I croaked. “Auralie—my mother... she’s...”

Cordellia’s brows rose. “You didn’t know that, either? She’s led us for nearly a decade.”

The memories of my life somersaulted around me, reframed by an impossible new reality. My mother, Auralie Bellator, was the leader of the ruthless, violent rebels preparing to raise a bloody war against the Descended. Against me .

My mother, who had made her career working for the Descended as a healer in the Emarion Army.

My mother, who must have slept with a Descended man to become pregnant with me.

My mother, who had negotiated to send her son, Teller, to the Descended academy to grow up among Lumnos’s elite.

All my cherished mental images of her suddenly felt warped and misshapen, the colors all wrong, like a painting left outside to wilt in the sun and rain. How could those choices have come from the same woman? Had my father known the truth about her? Did Teller know?

Did Luther know—was that why he had secretly helped her?

My chest squeezed painfully taut at the thought of him. He would be wondering where I was, fretting over whether I was safe, blaming himself for my capture. He had barely been willing to let me leave the palace without a small militia of guards—if he knew I was being held in chains in a rebel camp, he would stop at nothing to storm in and save me.

Just like he would have rushed in when he noticed the rebels attacking Coeur?le .

My heart leapt into my throat. “The attack—was anyone hurt? Were there any casualties?”

Cordellia’s expression softened with a touch of sympathy. “Your mother survived. She wasn’t hurt, but she—”

“Were any of the Descended killed?”

The question spilled out in a rush. I tried and failed miserably at feigning indifference, but there was a flurry of movement as mouths tightened and eyes narrowed, suspicion spreading like wildfire across the mortals’ faces.

“There was a man who came with me to the island. He—he was a friend to my mother. And to me.” My pulse picked up speed as the prospect of losing him grew too large and too real. “He’s a good man. He helped the mortals. He—”

“You were the only Descended we were instructed to spare,” Cordellia said curtly. All lingering warmth cooled from her tone. “There were casualties on both sides. I cannot offer you any more information than that.”

My knees felt made of sawdust, ready to collapse at the slightest gust. If Luther had been killed trying to protect me—and from an attack I might have played a part in bringing about...

I would never forgive myself, if that was the case. And I would never forgive my mother.

“Please,” I begged, my anger giving way to desperation. “Tell me what happened. Why was my mother there? Why am I here?”

Cordellia sighed. “When it became clear the King of Lumnos would die soon, your mother knew the Crowns would have to meet to coronate his heir. She proposed that, during the ritual, we launch an attack to capture the island. She had an associate that was able to smuggle her onto Coeur?le this past Forging Day to set up explosives and light them once the Crowns arrived.” She paused. “I don’t think she anticipated her daughter would be the one coronated.”

“Nor did we realize it would be eight months until we could strike,” Vance muttered.

Scattered details from the last year began to slot into place.

Luther must have been the associate to bring her to the island. Only the Crowns were permitted access to Coeur?le, and even then only for specific occasions, but perhaps Luther had been permitted to go in the King’s place, given his illness.

No wonder Luther had been so certain she would still be alive. With my mother’s background, she would know how to forage on the island for safe food and water, and as long as she wasn’t spotted by the army boats who patrolled the nearby waters, she would have been entirely undisturbed.

And that’s why he had promised to recover her by year end—he knew she would be there for my Rite of Coronation.

Warring emotions played tug-of-war with my heart. Frustration with Luther for not telling me, but terror that something might have happened to him. Resentment at my mother for setting this all in motion with her secrets, and a desperate need to see her again and know she was safe.

“Auralie asked that we spare the next Lumnos Crown only if it was a man with dark hair and a scar,” Cordellia continued. “You’re lucky Vance was able to get to you in time. After you were knocked unconscious by the explosions, he dragged you to safety and got you off the island while the Descended were distracted.”

Vance shot me a pointed look, his brows sky-high in expectation of my groveling thanks, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Cordellia. “The man with the scar—did you see him there? Did he survive?”

“I cannot say, and there’s no way to know now. The bodies of the Descended were burned to prevent their healing abilities from taking effect.”

I swayed on unsteady legs as bile rose in my throat. It was the night of the armory fire all over again. Descended guards, dead and burning, for an attack I unwittingly brought about. Their blood on my hands, their corpses at my feet.

Only this time, the dead might not be strangers.

“Where is my mother? I need to see her.”

“I told you, she’s not here.”

“Take me to her.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Why? Is she still on the island? Just release me, I’ll find a way there myself.” I tore at the metal cuffs on my wrists as nervous men edged toward me with weapons raised. One of them got too close, and I swung my chains at him, sending the men shuffling backward.

Cordellia raised a hand and took a hesitant step toward me. “You need to calm down.”

“Is she in Lumnos?” I was becoming frantic, my words tripping over my tongue. “Let me go, let me get her—it’s not safe for her there. You don’t have to take me, I—I can make my way back on my own. Please, I need to leave.”

She shook her head. “Diem—”

“ Let me go to her! ” I shouted.

“You can’t,” Vance interrupted. “She’s in a prison cell in Fortos, awaiting execution. She was captured trying to protect you .”

His words reverberated ominously through the chasm of my thoughts. I blinked at Cordellia and searched her face for some evidence that Vance was only riling me up out of petty revenge, but she pursed her lips and nodded.

“We’re working on a rescue mission,” she said. “We have allies in Fortos who may be able to help her.”

Though her expression was confident, all I could focus on was the slight catch in her voice. My short time as Queen had taught me something about wearing a mask of assurance when failure was all but certain, and I knew it when I saw it.

“I’ll go back to my realm and negotiate for her,” I said. “I can speak with the King of Fortos. Now that I’ve been coronated, he might listen to me.”

“You’re a brand new queen with ties to the mortal world. You have no leverage and nothing to offer in exchange.”

“And you do?” I shot back.

“ Yes ,” she clipped. “We have the island now. The Crowns will need access to it to complete their rituals. They can’t hold out for long—our sources tell us the longer they delay their ceremonies, the more unstable their magic becomes.” She gave me a hard look. “And we have something else they’ll need, too.”

I frowned. “What?”

“You,” Vance answered with a smirk. “They need all nine Crowns to complete the rituals. We’re not giving them back the island, not even for Auralie. But we can give them you.”

“Good,” I said sharply, nodding. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need.”

Surprise dashed over both their faces.

“You’ll cooperate?” Cordellia asked.

“She’s my mother. Do you really think I will not do whatever it takes to save her?”

A crack of uncertainty broke through her expression. “You’re a Descended. And a Crown. Your kind have never been loyal to ours.”

“I’m part mortal, too. Your kind are my kind. As for my Crown, I’ll tell you the same thing I told the Descended of Lumnos.” I lifted my chin defiantly. “I intend to be a Queen that works for the good of all her people, regardless of their blood.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You will not take the mortals’ side, even though you have seen how we are treated?”

“I will do everything in my power to right the wrongs that have been done to the mortals, but I will not stand for violence against innocent people—mortal or Descended.” I shot a glare at Vance, who grunted and rolled his eyes.

Cordelia’s gaze roved slowly over me as she studied me more closely. I understood her prejudice—I had held the very same perception of the Descended mere weeks ago. I believed them all cruel, soulless, and incapable of compassion. I still might, had I not been forced into becoming one of them myself.

Although... something in the way she finished her assessment of me with a subtle nod, some quiet strength and certainty of conviction that glowed behind her deep russet eyes, left me hoping I might have more of an ally in her than I had thought.

“You have a mortal brother, correct?” she asked, and I nodded. “I can have the Lumnos Guardians get him from your realm and bring him here. He’ll be safe with my people.”

For a moment, I genuinely considered it. As a full-blooded mortal, Teller would be welcomed here, even if I wasn’t. And though a rebel camp wasn’t exactly a safe place to be, neither was the palace, especially with our father’s killer still at large.

But bringing Teller here would mean ending his education—and his relationship with Lily—and if the Descended discovered he was being sheltered by the Guardians, it would put a target on his head I could never remove.

No . Teller had already lost too much. I could not take away what little of his happiness remained. I would have to trust my new Corbois friends to keep him safe.

“Leave him be,” I answered finally. “I have allies there who will watch over him until I return.”

“It may be quite some time,” she warned. “We’ve sent messages to the Crowns, but we may not receive a response for months.”

I stiffened. “I don’t have months. The Descended in my realm were already itching to attack the mortals. If I don’t return soon...” I thought of Aemonn and his appointment as executioner and head of the Royal Guard, and a chill crept over my skin. “I need to get back and stop them before things get worse.”

“My men will take care of things in Lumnos,” Vance interjected.

“No, your men will start a war in Lumnos,” I protested. “Your approach is only going to get people killed.”

“The war has already started, Your Majesty .” He said the title like a curse, spitting on the ground and resting a hand on the hilt of his blade. “Unlike you, we’re not afraid to fight—and die, if we must.”

Cordellia raised a palm to cut me off before I could argue. “You said you would do whatever it takes—well, this is what it takes. Patience. And trust in us to handle our side.”

I swallowed my protest, the taste of it bitter as it stuck in my throat. Too many swords hung precariously over my head. I needed to find Luther and make sure he was unhurt, rescue my mother and get answers from her about who and what I was, and return to Lumnos to take my throne before Remis and his allies could wreak havoc that I couldn’t undo.

For now, I had no choice. I would have to wait and pray that when the blades came tumbling down, I had my own defenses in order.