Page 54 of Spark of the Everflame

I could feel it, that gossip-worthy power of Luther’s. It was as if the air around him had its own pull, thick and intoxicating. Something awoke inside me in response. If I had any common sense left at all, it might have been fear—but the intrigue stirring low in my belly didn’t feel likefearat all.

Before I knew what I was doing, I staggered a step closer, my own hand rising as if drawn in by its siren call. It was the same inexplicable pull I’d felt toward the gryvern—perhaps I had a thing for cranky, dangerous beasts.

Luther’s eyes ticked toward me, freezing me in place. His face remained passive, almost bored, as if the stunning display had cost him as much effort as swatting a pesky fly.

Still, as his gaze roamed over me, something flickered—something I couldn’t quite decipher.

It was gone in an instant. Luther prowled toward the guard. The luminescent rope yanked the man’s body higher, his feet dangling helplessly in the air, bringing the two men eye-to-eye.

“These women are here in the service of the Crown,” Luther said coolly. “Is this how we treat His Majesty’s guests?”

“But they were—”

Luther’s fist tightened to a ball, and the cords constricted around the guard’s neck, choking off his protest.

“No, Your Highness,” he finally wheezed out.

“Then apologize.” His eyes narrowed. “Be convincing.”

The guard grimaced as his attention slid to me and Maura. “I’m... very sorry.”

My glare deepened.

Luther’s head tilted as he contemplated the man. “I should break your ribs for disobeying me, but then our guests would be compelled to help you set the bones. While that might be a just consequence forbothof you—” His eyes jumped briefly to mine. “—I’ll settle for burns and barbs.”

With a twitch of his fingers, the ropes around the guard flared to life. Tiny, pin-sharp thorns grew from the shadowy threads, pricking thin trickles of blood across the man’s body, while a sizzling sound emerged from the pulsating light, followed by the smell of burnt flesh. The man’s screams struck up and resounded through the room.

Maura’s trembling body pressed into my side. Though I forced myself not to react out of sheer stubborn pride, I finally admitted she was wise to be scared. This display of power, terrifying in its strength and savagery, was made all the more so by Luther’s stony indifference. He was observing the man’s torture at his hands with an unsettling detachment that left me thinking all the stories of the monstrous, heartless Descended were even truer than I’d thought.

But as I watched the man bleed and burn under Luther’s chilling control, I didn’t feel scared.

I felt... captivated.

“Miss Bellator,” Luther said, turning to me, “you may retain your weapons as long as I am escorting you, but if you try to use them against any occupant of this palace, then this—” His magic dissolved into mist, and the guard slumped to a bloody, moaning heap. “—will be a kindness compared to what you will face. Do we understand each other?”

I swallowed. “We do.”

He was convincing—I had to give him that.

“Follow me.” He spun on his heel and strode toward the palace interior.

Maura appeared trapped in place, her face an ashen grey. I linked our arms together and pulled her forward, stepping over the collapsed man’s body. I couldn’t resist glancing over my shoulder at the guards we left behind and answering their sea of scowls with a victorious smile.

We continued up one arm of the magnificent staircase and down a series of winding halls, each more obnoxiously decorated than the last. Intricate tapestries of the most vibrant colors, lace-like carved marble, glittering ceilings that glowed from within, bejeweled and gildedeverything. Even the air smelled rich, scented with the delicate sweetness of fresh-blooming roses. I struggled not to gawk at the splendor of it all.

“I understand you wish to take over as the palace healer, Miss Bellator,” Luther said as we walked.

I nodded. “I’m taking on my mother’s duties in her absence.”

“Allof them?”

My eyes snapped to his so quickly it took my mind a moment to catch up. There was a weight to his words, an implication that prickled my instincts. His expression gave away nothing, but I sensed I was on more dangerous ground than I fully understood.

Your mother agreed to serve the Crown in whatever manner the Crown requests, Maura had claimed.

I didn’t respond.

Luther led us into a small sitting room. Two young boys played on the floor, giggling and looking as normal as any mortal child.

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