Page 216 of Glow of the Everflame

His brows drew in, low and tight. “War is coming. Thousands of lives are at risk, and the realm needs a strong ruler. If you can’t use your magic—”

“Then I deserve to die?” I whispered.

Veins rose on his throat as he let me go and looked away. “Youwillchoose me,” he rumbled. “End of discussion.”

I forced myself to scrounge my composure back together, falling back on old habits as I channeled all my hurt into a molten, destructive fury. These people didn’t deserve my weakness—they deserved my wrath.

“I’ll choose whoever I want,” I bit back. “I don’t answer to you, Prince. I’m the fuckingQueen.”

For a heartbeat, something familiar flashed in his eyes—something that looked a hell of a lot like pride—smothered in an instant by a callous glare. I spun on my heel before he could get in any more jabs and returned to Remis’s side, quickly joined by Teller. My gaze traveled back and forth across the Challengers.

“Choose the weakest one,” Teller said firmly. “Get through this alive. We can figure the rest out another day.”

Survive. At whatever cost, to whatever end.

Our father’s keystone lesson.

Remis began to fire off a list of the weakest Challengers including, notably, several of the people who had been arguing with Jean Hanoverre. He offered insight into their power and their vulnerabilities, giving a step-by-step guide for exactly how to defeat them.

Teller nodded emphatically and offered his own shrewd perspective—which of the Houses were the least influential, which ones I could most afford to make enemies of. Even Remis seemed impressed as he gave my brother a wary side-eye.

All the while, I could not tear my gaze from Luther. Searching his face. Looking for the truth.

“Which ones are the strongest?” I asked.

“Diem,” Teller warned slowly.

“Other than Luther?” Remis said.

I briefly closed my eyes, then nodded. “Other than Luther.”

“Jean Hanoverre, or perhaps Roderyck Byrnum, or—”

“Please don’t do this,” Teller begged.

“What about Rhon Ghislaine?” I asked.

Remis frowned. “His magic is quite strong, but defeating him would impress no one. They would say you targeted House Ghislaine because it’s the lowest ranked. It would be the worst possible choice—all the consequences of someone weak without the benefit of an easy win.”

I looked up to the sky, squinting against the bright sun. “If this is how you Kindred show your sense of humor, your jokes could seriously use some work.”

“No,” Teller pleaded. “Chooseanyoneelse.”

I scrubbed a hand down my face and sighed. “He killed a mother and child in Mortal City, Tel. I witnessed it myself.”

Teller hung his head. His shoulders sagged.

He knew me too well—my path was set.

If my worthiness was to be judged by my choice of opponent, then let this decision be a reflection of my soul. I would not kill the weak merely because it was easy, nor kill the cruel because it was gratifying.

I would kill only the guilty—and only when justice allowed for nothing less.

The Descended might never know my true reasoning, but so be it. They had already deemed me unworthy. I would hold myself to a higher standard.

I raised my voice to the crowd. “I, Diem Corbois, Queen of Lumnos, choose Rhon Ghislaine as my Challenger.”

I took Teller’s hand and dragged him toward the tent that had been set up for my preparation. Remis’s voice thundered around us, repeating my decision to the arena, followed quickly by a fresh wave of booing and indignant protests.

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