Page 119 of Glow of the Everflame

“Well we can’t let mortals roam the palace, can we?” He laughed as if the thought were absurd. “There’s hundreds of Corbois, Diem. They can’tallbe important. If their line is too distant or their magic is weak, they’re given a choice—serve the family, or become one of the Unhoused.” He shrugged. “All the Twenty Houses work the same way.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Perhaps I should have guessed it sooner. Although I’d known a handful of people in Mortal City who worked for Descended Houses, it was far from common, and the jobs often kept them at a distance—seamstresses, stablemen and the like. My anger had been focused on the mortals’ subjugation, but it seemed the Descended had a caste system of their own.

Shouts from behind us caught my attention. “Do you hear that? Someone’s yelling.”

“The ball hasn’t even begun and someone has already overindulged on the wine,” Aemonn muttered. “A hundred gold marks says it’s my brother.”

I stopped, straining to listen. I caught bits and pieces of muffled voices, and then—

“Bring me Diem Bellator!”

I knew that voice.

I spun on my heel and broke into a sprint, leaving Aemonn behind without a thought. My heart raced as I pictured what awaited me, wondering how far it had already gone. How unfixable this might be.

When the voices had grown their loudest, I shoved through a doorway into the palace’s corridors, finding myself at the back of a crowd of guards.

“Stand down,” I shouted, trying to push my way through. “Don’t hurt him!”

The guards formed a barrier with their arms to corral me backward. “Stay back, Your Majesty,” one of them yelled. “He’s armed. It’s not safe for you here.”

“I saidstand down,” I hissed. “And get out of my way.”

Grudgingly, they obeyed, and a pathway opened up through the mob. At the end of it, a man lay crumpled on his knees, blood dripping from his nose and lip.

“Henri,” I gasped, sliding down to the floor beside him. “Look at me—are you alright?”

Two brown eyes peered up through shaggy, sweat-soaked hair. They were as familiar to me as my own, and yet so filled with lethal rage I barely recognized them.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low. “Didn’t you get my message?”

He wiped the back of his palm across his swollen mouth, smearing blood in a glossy red streak across his face. “I got it. But I don’t accept it.”

My gaze swept over him. He was wearing simple black breeches, a ruffled tunic, and an ill-fitting dark wool doublet. I knew it was nothing he owned—borrowed, most likely. His boots had been washed and shined, his face clean-shaven. For Mortal City, his attire would have been the height of formality.

For the Descended, it wouldn’t even have made the cut for the staff.

The guards shifted and conjured a wall of shadows to block us from the view of the guests. Shouting down the hall told me that they were herding people into other rooms, and soon the murmur of spectators had gone silent.

Still, a number of guards watched with curious eyes, and there was not a single soul in this palace I trusted enough to witness the conversation I was about to have.

“I’ll speak with him alone,” I announced loudly. “All of you, out.”

“Your Majesty, we cannot leave you with him. He has weapons, he—”

“I gave you an order.” I did my best to mimic Luther’s commanding growl. “Are you disobeying your Queen?”

The guards looked to each other in obvious discomfort.

Perthe stepped forward. “Please, Your Majesty, at least allow me to stay, for your own safety. I won’t—”

“Go,” I snapped. “Now!”

He clenched his jaw and gave Henri a warning glare before waving the other guards off and leaving me alone with my betrothed.

“How quickly you’ve fallen into your new role,” Henri spat. “If you have that much control over them, surely it’s safe enough for me.”

I reached for his hands, but he yanked them away. Heartbreak squeezed my chest. “They may obey me now, but no one here is loyal to me. I can’t keep you safe—not yet.”

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