Page 130 of Glow of the Everflame

“And your son,” I said. A young boy peered out from behind his father’s shadow, pale-faced and terrified, likely remembering his rudeness at our last interaction. I offered him a smile. “Hello again, Lorris.”

Evrim’s stare sharpened. “How is it you know my children, but not me?”

“You met her, Father,” Lorris said. Evrim’s cruel glare snapped to his son, who cowered away as if struck.

“I used to work as a healer,” I explained. “I treated your daughter when she was ill.”

He awkwardly shuffled his feet, then straightened his coat. “Of course. Forgive my brief lapse in memory. House Benette is honored to have welcomed you into our home.”

I almost snorted. My visit had been anything buthonored. They had treated me as unworthy of their notice, and I’d repaid the favor by sneaking into Evrim’s office and stealing the plans to the armory and his list of top customers.

And with it, I signed the death warrants of all the Descended guards who didn’t survive the Guardians’ bloody attack.

I fought a fresh wave of guilt and reminded myself of the role I was supposed to play.

“And what a beautiful home it was,” I gushed. “Your children are so well-behaved. You must be very proud.”

My fakery worked, and Evrim puffed up like a fluttering peacock.

“Do you have any children of your own, Your Majesty?” his wife asked.

Aemonn jumped forward, taking my hand in his. “Not quite yet,” he said warmly, “but my Diem has such nurturing instincts. No doubt she’ll be a doting mother very soon.”

Loud chatter erupted in the ballroom. With that single statement, Aemonn had kindled a firestorm of speculation. By the end of the night, the whole of the realm would believe Aemonn had already put a baby in my belly and cemented his place as my future consort.

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and as his eyes connected with mine, I saw something new in them—a challenge, and perhaps a warning.

To keep my mouth shut. To play my role.

My temper bucked like a stallion. I squeezed Aemonn’s fingers until his knuckles popped. He only smiled wider and tucked himself into my side.

He dropped another casual kiss along my neck, leaning in until his lips brushed my ear. “Play nice,” he murmured.

“I look forward to our House Reception tomorrow,” Evrim cut in. “We have much to discuss.”

“Oh?” I feigned lightness as I struggled to yank my hand from Aemonn’s grasp.

“I hope Your Majesty has a strong plan for retaliation against the rebel scum responsible for the recent attack on my armory.”

If only he knew therebel scummost responsible was staring right at him.

“Given her youth, Her Majesty has delegated such important matters to me,” Remis said. “I’ll be happy to discuss it with you tomorrow.”

Evrim frowned at that. He gave Remis a once-over that stunk of disapproval. “I see. Very well—until then.”

I nodded and threw a wink at Evanie, who giggled, then at Lorris, who went wide-eyed and fled.

Even before they were introduced, I knew the next House was House Hanoverre. With their upturned noses and sneering upper lips, they made no attempt to disguise that they had judged me—and found me lacking.

Iléana, of course, was front and center, hovering at the hip of her grandmother Marthe, the elderly matriarch of their House. Their too-loud grumbles contained scathing commentary on everything from my dress to my demeanor to my upbringing.

The real surprise was the warmth with which they were greeted by Aemonn and Garath, the latter rushing forward to plant a series of theatrical kisses all over Marthe’s cheeks and her ring-bedecked hands. Aemonn lit up as he shook hands with Iléana’s older brother Jean, who gave my breasts a lewd stare before dismissing me entirely. Even Remis jumped into the fray, breaking from my side to chat loudly with Iléana’s parents.

I leaned toward Eleanor, the last remaining member of my entourage. “Should I wander off to the bar and see how long it takes them to notice?”

She covered her laugh with a cough. “Don’t take it personally. House Hanoverre is even more obsessed with breeding than House Corbois. Their sigil is a single drop of blood on a white rose. They claim they’ve had no mortal blood enter their line since Lumnos’s mortal lover, so that single drop is the onlyimpuritythey’ll ever have.”

My eyes dropped to the filmy white fabric of my skirts and the scarlet dot along the hem where Henri’s blood had fallen earlier in the night.

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