Page 122 of Glow of the Everflame

I was still frozen in my despair, my bloody hand trembling at my side. Aemonn pulled back just slightly and stroked his knuckles on my cheek. “What can I do, honey? How can I help?”

I looked up into his vivid blue eyes, so full of compassion.

“Can you give us a minute?” I managed to force out.

Aemonn frowned. He wiped away the tears on my cheeks and kissed my temple, then rubbed his hands along my arms a few times to warm them.

Wrong, wrong,wrong.

At my side, Luther trembled with restraint, his eyes following Aemonn’s every touch.

Aemonn didn’t even acknowledge his cousin’s presence. He took my chin in his fingers and tilted it up slightly. “Diem,” he said softly, “don’t fret. All will be well in the end.”

I gave him a tiny, thankful sliver of a smile. He threw Luther a loaded glance before turning his back and returning to the servants’ passage.

Luther and I stood alone. I felt the burden lift from my heart—just slightly.

He grabbed my hand and began to swipe the blood away with the cuff of his jacket as he inspected my flesh. His voice came out harsh. “Are you wounded?”

Yes, I thought.

“No,” I said. “The blood isn’t mine.”

“Whose is it?”

It took me a few tries to say it: “Henri’s.”

His eyes shot to my face. “What happened?”

I couldn’t bear to look at him. “He got my letter, but he came anyway. He said... he thinks I...” My voice gave way, more tears along with it.

Luther roughly tugged me in and cocooned me in the warm steel of his arms. One hand slid to my nape and cradled my head against his chest as he whispered promises, over and over—we’ll fix this, I’ll help you, you’re not alone.

It was no different than what Aemonn had done—and yet, somehow, everything was different.

A wave of calm cut through my anguish. My tears slowed, then ran dry. My fears grew more distant, my sorrows at bay. Not gone forever, but no longer at my heels with their hooks in my back.

As long as I stayed here, I was safe.

And I never, ever wanted to leave.

But when I closed my eyes, it was Henri I saw, and that final stare, so wrought with betrayal.

Reluctantly, I pushed Luther away, unable to meet his eyes. “The Guardians are outside—two hundred of them. They’re planning to attack the palace tonight.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said without missing a beat.

“I know they came to do a terrible thing and I have no right to ask this of you, but...” I hung my head, whispering. “Don’t hurt them. They’remortals, Luther. If they die because of me...”

I stared at my palm, still stained with traces of Henri’s blood. Had I really thought I could make it through this war with clean hands?

“I understand. I’ll find a way.”

Finally, I looked up. To my surprise, there was no judgment on Luther’s face, not even reluctance, only steadfast resolve. The swift arm of his Queen, ready to administer her justice—orher mercy.

He thought for a moment, then frowned. “I may have a solution. If you release the Umbros Descended from the Forging spell’s effects, they can use their thought magic to make the mortals go home peacefully.”

My brows rose with burgeoning hope. “They can?”

---