Page 28 of Spark of the Everflame

A part of me hated her for it, even though I knew she had done it for me. I knew in my heart, my soul, that my mother would doanythingto protect me.

Keep any secret. Make any deal. Tell any lie.

And now, without her protection, I was being hauled toward all those truths I had been perfectly content to ignore, kicking and screaming all the way down.

If Teller had heard what transpired at the palace, he said nothing of it to me. Though when I sat in front of the hearth and gazed vacantly at the fire, I felt his curious stare on my back. I supposed my moodiness since I’d stopped taking the flameroot powder had made him wary enough to give me space.

The flameroot.

The vial of red powder burned a hole in my pocket. My chaotic thoughts circled it like vultures around a fresh kill. That bottle was my anger and fear, my anxiety and resentment—all my darkest emotions in tangible form.

When the sky turned black and the men in my family were lost in dreams, I gathered all the bottles in my mother’s supply and slipped outside to the water’s edge.

One by one, I hurled the moon-shaped jars into the sea. One by one, they hit the waves and sank forever to a watery grave.

Each quiet splash felt like the creaking open of an old, heavy door, its iron hinges rusted from ages of disuse.

I said a prayer to the Old Gods to make me ready for whatever lay beyond.

ChapterSeven

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Henri’s voice yanked me back to the present and the hypnotizing patter of hoofbeats on the Ring Road, the circuitous trail that connected Emarion’s nine realms. We had left town hours ago, and I had barely spoken five words since.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that’s made you look like you want to murder the next person you meet.”

He wasn’t wrong.

My anger had been quietly smoldering for weeks, maybe months, but after the events of yesterday—especially Maura’s revelations—a burning disquiet had settled so deeply into my marrow that I was beginning to wonder if it was permanent.

“I’m fine.” I made my best effort to sound pleasant, but it wasn’t even believable to my own ears.

“Are you feeling guilty about leaving the center?”

“No.”

Not a lie. After seeing how rattled I’d been at the news of my mother’s bargain, Maura had suggested I takeseveraldays off.

“Is it Teller?”

“No.”

Also not a lie. Princess Lilian had been so appreciative of my help that she’d given Teller a kiss on the cheek and an open invitation to visit the palace any time. He was practically floating. Though I had my concerns about their growing relationship, I couldn’t help but be grateful to see him so happy.

A long silence passed between us, the clopping of hooves on gravel the only sound.

“Is it your mother?” His voice was quieter, gentler.

I tried to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Diem, we’ve been friends since we could walk. You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Of course.”

That—that was the lie.

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