Page 136 of Glow of the Everflame

“Aemonn, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ve also spared you a few hundred drooling suitors who would be swarming you tonight if they weren’t afraid of crossing me. So again... you’re welcome.”

I chewed guiltily on my lip. “Fine. I might have overreacted.”

He shot me a look, and I rolled my eyes, though a smile toyed at my lips. “Thank you, Aemonn,” I repeated. “I won’t forget your kindness, Aemonn.”

We shared a laugh, and the tension between us eased as we danced in pleasant silence. I begrudgingly had to confess that, with a dance partner like Aemonn, I was actually starting to enjoy myself. I didn’t even put up a fight when he took my arms and looped them around his neck, then ran his fingers in circles along my back.

“Diem?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you ask Luther to do?”

My body went stiff.

“Nothing,” I rushed out.

He gave me a hard look. “I helped you back there with that mortal, didn’t I? I at least deserve to know what I was helping youwith.”

I pulled away, nearly tripping and falling backward in the process. Aemonn’s hands caught me and locked me in place.

“He—I—Luther made sure Henri got home safely,” I stammered, looking down to hide the lie.

“And he needed the Umbros Descended for that?”

I grimaced. “Um, I think it was a cover.” My mind raced for a plausible excuse. “I’m not certain, uh, perhaps he—”

The music ended, and a smattering of applause rose from the crowd. I yanked out of Aemonn’s grip and, in a panic, dropped into a curtsy.

A familiar snort rang out over my shoulder. I whipped around, spotting Taran in the throng, and gripped his arm. “Dance with me,” I hissed. “Queen’s orders.”

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.” He smirked at Aemonn and swept me to the center of the dance floor, taking both hands and spinning me until I was woozy. “Dancing with my brother was that bad, huh?”

“No,” I admitted. “He’s growing on me. There’s a nice guy under there somewhere.”

Taran grunted and looked away, his expression uncharacteristically cold. The rancorous history between the brothers was something more than mere sibling rivalry. There was a too-sharp edge to every taunt that seemed designed to stab, rather than poke.

Though dark clouds lingered in his eyes, he rolled his shoulders and flashed me a wicked look. “I heard you threw a punch at old lady Hanoverre.”

My jaw hung open. “Is that what people are saying?”

“I heard you made her get down on her knees and beg for your forgiveness.”

“What!?No, gods, there was nothing like—”

“Then I heard you kicked Iléana right in the tits. The left one.”

“Alright, now I know you’re lying.”

“And then you pulled Jean’s pants down so everyone could see his tiny—”

“Taran,” I shouted, laughing.

“Wishful thinking?” he asked. I slugged him in the ribs, and he took the blow with a grin. “Just wanted to make sure this place hasn’t stolen your ability to laugh yet.”

A bittersweet gratitude filled my chest, and I pulled him close in a fierce hug. Our constant banter reminded me so much of my relationship with Teller. Though no one could ever take my brother’s place, it gave my wounded soul some peace to know that when the terrible day arrived for Teller’s mortal life to end, I might have someone in this world who could ease the void of comradery his loss would leave behind.

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