Page 23 of Glow of the Everflame

I was a wreck—my eyes bloodshot, my clothes rumpled, my skin sallow and crusted with mud—but the Crown was a thing of perfect, incomparable beauty.

A laugh leapt up from my throat.

Had I really walked into a room of sophisticated nobles looking likethisand declared myself their ruler? And they had just... accepted it?

All because I, Diem Bellator, poor mortal healer, wore the Crown.

I was the Queen of Lumnos.

My eyes snagged on a clawfoot tub full to the brim with steaming water. I muttered a prayer of thanks for whatever servant had seen my pitiful state and run a bath—whether out of kindness or judgment, I didn’t care.

I stripped off my clothes and sank into the soapy water, groaning as the warmth soothed my tired muscles. I washed my hair with an assortment of gardenia-scented concoctions, then scrubbed at my skin until it was pink and raw. When I was done, I leaned my head back against the curved porcelain rim and closed my eyes, allowing the dam of my exhaustion to finally give way.

At some point I must have dozed off, because the water was cold when a swift knock rang out from the hall.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of the tub and wrapped a thin drying cloth under my arms, securing it in a knot between my breasts. I had no energy left to care about the stream of water that followed my slow trudge to the door. I slumped against the wall, barely staying upright to pull the door open wide.

Luther.

His cool composure lasted all of two seconds as he gazed down at my dripping, barely covered body, his eyes darkening to pitch.

I really had to stop answering doors without my clothes on.

“We’ve discussed this, Prince.” I pointed at my face. “Eyes up here.”

His throat strained. He stood straighter and offered me a lumpy linen sack. “I brought you a few things.”

I took it, blinking in surprise at its heft. “What’s in it?”

He gestured for me to look for myself. I pulled at the drawstrings and peered inside at a jumble of Fortosian steel knives, each in its own sheath, many discreet enough to be concealed beneath clothing. He’d even tossed in a variety of straps to wear them in different ways. Though some had handles of ivory or exotic woods, not one of them was bejeweled or gilded.

“I thought these might make you more comfortable here,” he said.

Wholly against my will, something warmed in my chest.

“And here I was thinking you all only carried weapons as jewelry,” I said, nodding at the ornate sword hilt peeking over his shoulder.

“This sword is a family heirloom. It can cut as well as any blade in Emarion—and it’s seen plenty of battlefields.” He sounded a little defensive. It was, disturbingly, a little cute. “However, I knew you would prefer something less... conspicuous.”

I grunted in acknowledgement. Fine, I could admit it was a thoughtful gesture. No sense in telling him that, though.

“I suppose I also owe you this.” He opened his jacket and pulled out my dagger, offering it to me, handle first.

I stared at the knife without moving. It was clean and polished, no longer coated in his blood. My eyes slowly dragged up his arm to his neck, where I’d sunk the blade’s edge—not quite intentionally—into his flesh.

Right before the most passionate, all-consuming, world-forgetting kiss I’d ever had. A kiss made of fire and lust, hatred and hurt, and perhaps something more. Something that lit a spark in my chest... and between my legs.

He watched me in silence. I could see the words forming in his eyes, hovering on his lips, the muscles on his face twitching with the effort of holding back.

His voice softened. “Diem, about what happened earlier—”

I snatched the knife from his hand and shut the door in his face.

Luther was a threat, that had becomeabundantlyclear. Whatever might have passed between us before, it had to end. This was war.

And he was my prime target.

ChapterSix

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