Page 52 of Spark of the Everflame

“Sorae, get back to your perch,” a gruff voice barked.

The gryvern hissed and whipped its head around, the tuft of black fur at the end of its tail smacking the ground in a furious thrash. A flash of sunlight glinted off a golden medallion hung from a chain around its neck, engraved with the interlocking sun and moon that served as the sigil of Lumnos.

A guard strode forward and swatted the animal’s haunches, then motioned back toward the palace. “Easy, girl. They’re just mortals, nothing to worry over.”

My irritation piqued.

The gryvern’s lips curled back in a snarl at the guard, but it obeyed his command, prowling back toward the building.

The guard beckoned us forward. “My apologies. Sorae’s temper has been on edge since the King took ill. Everything sets her off these days.”

“She wasn’t angry, just curious,” I said.

The guard gave me an inquisitive look, one that was mirrored on Maura’s face.

I didn’t respond.

As it turned out, entering through the main entrance of the palace was a veritable gauntlet compared to the ease with which we had previously shuffled in through the garden doors.

Sword-wielding watchmen grilled us with no attempt to hide their condescension. They demanded our names, our qualifications, the contents of our bags, our duties at the palace. Maura, despite surely having been through this routine countless times in the past, remained perfectly patient, answering their increasingly rude questions without an ounce of defensiveness.

My confidence in my ability to take over this role without starting a war was fading with each passing second.

Eventually, the guards grunted their approval and tossed our bags back at our feet. We gathered our scattered belongings and turned toward the cavernous, marble-coated foyer when an armored forearm swung into my chest and stopped me short.

The man’s cerulean eyes flicked to my hips. “Mortals must surrender their weapons before entering.”

My jaw tightened. There wasn’t a chance in all the ice-capped caverns of hell that I would agree to walk into the lion’s den unarmed.

“I need them for my duties here,” I protested.

His lip curled. “None of your duties here should require a blade.”

I patted the hilt of my dagger with a bitter smile. “This blade helped save your Princess Lilian’s life the last time I was here.”

We glared at each other through narrowed eyes, neither one relenting.

“Diem,” Maura hissed, a plea and a warning.

“Get Prince Luther,” one of the guards commanded. “It’s his call to make.”

Maura waved a hand frantically. “No, no—that won’t be necessary. She’ll leave them here. Right, Diem?”

The guard smirked at me. “That’s exactly what she’ll do.” He reached for me, one hand clutching harshly to my shoulder. His other palm brushed against my breast as he reached to grab my blade, and his lecherous smile left no doubt the act was intentional.

My control snapped, and my training took over. Before his fingertips could graze the hilt of my knife, I had one hand on his wrist, the other crossed to clamp onto his forearm. Then I was twisting, turning, using his momentum against him until his arm was locked at an awkward angle at his back and he was on his knees, grunting in pain and shock.

A simple maneuver, one of the first my father ever taught me. Effective even on an enemy twice your size.

Around me rang the peal of swords sliding free from their scabbards, pinning me into a circle of razor-sharp blades pointed directly at my chest.

“Well this is off to a flawless start,” I muttered under my breath.

Maura yelped as a guard stepped forward and grabbed her, putting his knife to her neck.

“Get your hands off of her or you’re a dead man,” I snarled. The guard at my feet thrashed against my grip, and I twisted his arm further, drawing another pained groan.

It was unexpectedly easy to hold him in place, and from the confused looks his comrades leveled at me, I could tell they shared my surprise. My father’s training had kept me strong enough to handle the mortal men I’d scuffled with, but I had expected more of a challenge from the famously formidable Descended.

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