Page 56 of Spark of the Everflame

I snorted quietly at the display of unrequited love and shifted my attention back to the child. “I think you’re all set, my friend. Has anything else been hurting you?” He shook his head and grinned at me, and I grinned right back. “Better run fast then, or else I’m going to have to...” I reached to tickle him again with a low, mischievous cackle. He squeal-laughed and darted away, fleeing to the safety of his mountain of toys.

I stood and settled my hands on my hips with a half-smile, turning to the younger woman. “It was touch and go, but I think he’ll survive.”

Her slender, milky-white hands—hands that made me wonder if she’d ever done a day of work in her life—flew to her chest. “What? He was hurt that badly?”

My smile vanished. “No! No—I was only joking. He’s perfectly fine. I—”

Her delicate features twisted into a glare. “A threat to a child’s life is hardly a joke.”

My cheeks burned. I glanced at Luther, who was watching me with one brow raised. His lips remained pressed tight, but he managed to look irritatingly amused. Now that it was my turn to squirm, he was thriving on the retribution.

I swallowed my pride and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She crossed her arms. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a poor, dying child is whatyou peoplefind funny.”

The embarrassment drained from my face, replaced by a hot flood of anger. I took a step closer, hands fisting at my sides. “What did you just say?”

Luther’s mirth vanished. Again he took a step between us, his muscles pulling taut at the shift in my demeanor. I ignored him and glared across his shoulder, eyes locked on the woman and her scathing, self-righteous expression.

“Every week I treat children dying of hunger because their families can’t afford food. I dread the winters and the orphans that will be found frozen to death in snowdrifts because they don’t have a warm home. Meanwhile,you peoplesit in this ridiculous palacecovered in enough gold and jewels to solve every one of those problems likethat,” I hissed with a snap of my fingers. “So don’t you dare lecture me about poor, dying children.”

The woman scoffed. “It’s hardly our fault if you mortals don’t take care of your own.”

Deep within, an impatientvoicehowled from its cage.

Fight.

Wisely, Luther moved before I could react. He snagged the woman by the forearm and pulled her far,farout of my reach. I caught a muffled exchange of words, but I was too busy grinding my teeth and fighting my boiling resentment to listen.

I snatched my things and stalked to the corner table to wait for Maura to finish. I reattached my weapons belt and violently chucked my items back into my satchel as I weighed the pros and cons of strangling a member of the royal family in their own palace.

At the moment, the pros were winning by a landslide.

“I apologize for that,” Luther’s voice carried over my shoulder. “She was out of line.”

“Seems to be a family trait,” I muttered.

His voice grew quieter as he moved to my side. “I came looking for you in Mortal City. I wanted to thank you for what you did for my sister.”

I snorted. “No, you didn’t.”

He bristled, shifting slightly. “I did. And... I wanted to apologize for my own behavior the last time you were here.”

“No, you came by to ask Maura if I was really a mortal.” I spun toward him and pulled one of my twin daggers, pressing its edge to my wrist. “Did she put your suspicions to rest, or must I slice myself open to win you over?”

To myaggressiveindignation, he didn’t so much as blink. Without dropping my gaze, his hand closed around the blade. I couldn’t stop myself from looking, sucking in a breath as his fingers tightened around the knife’s sharp edge. He squeezed it so hard his knuckles blanched—with no trace of blood. Not even a scratch.

“I think,” he said, tugging it from my grasp, “it’s safe to say, Miss Bellator, you’ve already won me over.” With a lightning-fast flick of his fingers, he spun the blade in his palm to grip it by the handle. He stepped closer and smoothly slid the dagger back into my belt. “If you hadn’t, I’d be putting that knife somewhere other than your sheath.”

His thumb brushed against my hip, and my skin flushed with heat.

Gods, I hated him.

His brows dipped low. “Auralie was supposed to tell me,” he said suddenly.

I blinked a few times, the mention of my mother reeling me back to my anger through tides of unwanted lust. “You... what?”

“If conditions were that bad in Mortal City, your mother was supposed to warn me so I could provide assistance.”

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