Page 39 of Glow of the Everflame

Iwas empty in every sense of the word.

After I left the dungeon, I surrendered to a deep, soul-rending despair that pulled me into a dreamless slumber, but by morning, I awoke feeling numb.

Expending so much power in one explosive burst had drained my energy, leaving my body sore and my head spinning. I bathed and dressed as if swimming through oil, every action requiring twice the effort for half the speed.

My thoughts—and thevoice—were quieter than ever. The chaos was still in there somewhere, rumbling under the surface, but for the first time in months, I could sit in silence and justbe.

Tears, anger, panic, hope—they all seemed oddly foreign, objects that belonged to someone else. Even when I dared to let my mind drift to my darkest thoughts, the fears hiding within were no more than broken trinkets on a dusty shelf.

I had always imagined the Descended as emotionless shells with magic where their hearts should be. That’s exactly how I felt now—powerful beyond measure, yet depthlessly void.

I’d been up since dawn, sitting in an armchair and staring blankly at the wall, when a knock on the door broke the quiet.

I opened it to see Luther holding a tray piled high with flaky pastries, fluffy steaming omelets, glistening fruits, and an array of juices and teas. He studied me warily, the way you might eye a wounded beast that was as likely to rip your throat out as to keel over and die.

“I thought you might prefer to take breakfast privately this morning.”

I stared at him.

Angry—I was supposed to be angry at him, wasn’t I?

“And I owe you information concerning...” His eyes darted to the guards. “...our mutual acquaintance.”

Yes. My mother.

I did want to know those things. Badly.

I could still feel that, at least.

I stepped aside and watched as he laid out the food on a small table, then I sank into a chair across from him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His eyes jumped across my face. “Did using your magic help?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but—had it helped? Wasthisbetter than being angry?

“You were right,” I said. “About the release.” I began to pile food on a plate, less out of hunger than just to give myself something to do.

His posture eased as he watched me take my first bites. “The things I said last night... I only meant to provoke you so you would use your magic. I didn’t really mean—”

“It’s fine.”

He leaned forward. “You arenota cowa—”

“Will you pass the tea?”

Luther frowned. He lifted the teapot and poured it into a delicate porcelain cup, then handed it to me. “You must know, you are the last person I would ever—”

“And the sugar, as well?”

His chin dropped. He slowly slid the bowl forward. “If you would just let me—”

“Why do you feel different today?” I plunked a sugar cube into my tea. “Normally, when you come in a room, I can feel your magic. Today, I can’t.”

He leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Because I drained my magic last night trying to keep the palace from coming down on our heads. You should be proud—normally it takes me hours to burn out. You ran through my reserves in minutes.”

Any other day, that would have made me tremendously smug.Obnoxiouslysmug. I should have been making sexually charged innuendos about hisstaminawith a wicked smirk.

Instead, I stirred my tea. “I think I’m empty, too.”

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