Page 147 of Spark of the Everflame

Red exploded across his face.

“Teller,” he bellowed. “Get in here.”

Teller came slinking out of the hallway almost immediately—quickly enough for me to know he must have been eavesdropping just out of sight. He scowled at me with a blend of betrayal and panic.

Father pointed a quivering finger in his direction. “Tell me this is a misunderstanding, son. Tell me you have not been courting thegods-damned royal Princess of Lumnos.”

“He’s not courting her—”

“I’m talking to your brother,” Father snarled at me. “I’ll deal with you andyourchoices in a minute.”

Fight.

No.No, no, no, no, no.

I tried and failed to shove thevoicedown as I pushed away from the table and rose to my feet.

“Leave Teller alone,” I protested. “I was only teasing him the other night. They’re just classmates, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“You said you invited her to our home.”

“Yes, because that’s what you do with friends.”

“He will not befriendswith the Princess of Lumnos.”

My eyes narrowed. “He’ll be friends with whoever he damn well wants to be.”

“Diem,” Teller cut in. “I can handle this.”

Father stalked around the edge of the table until he was facing me. “Have you been encouraging this madness? You’re supposed to be a role model for him.”

Fight.

“And so are you,” I snapped. My temper had become a living thing, fusing with thevoiceas it slithered and swelled. “Tell me, Father—when were you going to tell us you’re going back to the army? Today? Next week? Next month, as you’re walking out the door?”

Teller staggered backward, his confused stare jumping between the two of us.

Father’s voice went soft as death. “Who told you about that?”

“The better question is why I had to hear about it from someone else in the first place.”

“It’s true?” Teller whispered.

Guilt shadowed Father’s expression. “I wanted to discuss it with you both last night, but the explosions interrupted us.”

“Discuss it?” I laughed harshly. “You sent in your acceptancelast week. What kind of discussion could there possibly be?”

Muscles ticked beneath his thinning beard. “The acceptance was a formality. These orders are not the kind that can be declined.”

“Screw the orders,” Teller shouted. My head jerked toward him—in my life, I’d never heard him yell at our father, never even heard him so much as raise his voice. “Mother’s gone and now you’re leaving? How could you do that to us?”

The anguish on his face shattered my heart. Teller had always been the steadiest of us—when Father retreated inward after Mother’s disappearance and I drowned myself in destructive decisions, Teller alone had stayed the course. His positive attitude, his kindness, his commitment to his schooling—none of it wavered, even in grief.

“Son,” Father started, his own voice unsteady. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Tell them no.” Teller shook his head as his eyes watered. “Tell them you can’t go. Tell them—tell them you have a child at home you have to care for.”

“You’re of adult age for a mortal. The army won’t care that you’re still in school.”

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