Page 138 of Glow of the Everflame

Taran smirked. “Aemonn’s going to lose his mind when he finds out.”

“Aemonn already knows.” I glared. “And don’t change the subject.”

His smile vanished. “Aemonn knows?”

“Yes. He’s helping me hide it, too. Actually, he—”

“Fuck.” Taran’s jaw went tight. All hint of lightness hardened into something sharp, something dangerous. Suddenly Taran seemed taller, broader, fiercer. “That’s not good, Diem. That’s really not good.”

“You’re being dramatic. Aemonn’s been very understanding.”

“For now. That’s how he works. He pretends to be your friend until he knows your weakness, then he’s the worst enemy you could ever have. You can’t trust him.”

“I don’t have a choice, Taran. He already knows.”

Veins jumped along Taran’s throat as his furious glare settled on his brother, who was holding court on the other side of the dance floor. “If he threatens you, I’ll kill him. I’ll actually kill him.”

The music ended, and I extricated myself from Taran’s vice-like grip, trying to ignore the hook of worry his warning had lodged in my side. “I’ll be fine. I can handle Aemonn.”

Taran’s eyes stayed on his brother. “I need to find Luther.”

I waved a hand toward the corridor. “He was in the hallway with Iléana. You three have fun.”

A throng of onlookers closed in around me as I pushed my way through the crowd. I ignored Perthe’s distant shouts to wait, desperate to get far away from the dance floor before the next song began.

A hand grazed my shoulder.

“Diem, was it?”

I spun to see Jean Hanoverre looking down at me with bedroom eyes and an impish smile. Behind him, a pack of Hanoverres crept closer. Their vicious grins turned my hook of worry into a full-blown anchor.

“Your name is Diem?” he repeated, one eyebrow lifting high. “Diem...Bellator?”

I clenched my jaw. “It’s Diem Corbois.”

“Sure,” he said, drawing the word out with a sinister chuckle.

My focus darted between him and his cousins. They were casually circling around me, closing me in a ring that had the hair on my arms rising.

On instinct, my hand moved to my hips in search of the daggers that had lived there for more than a decade, now finding only empty tulle.

“I apologize for my grandmother,” Jean said. “You know how troublesome elders can get, with their sharp claws and addled minds.”

“I get the feeling anyone who tells Marthe Hanoverre she has an addled mind will find themselves at the end of her sharp claws.”

His smile slid slideways, telling me just how accurate that statement had been.

“It’s practically unheard of for someone unknown to arrive at court. And when that someone arrives with a Crown...” He scoured me from head to toe. “We’re all so very curious to know more.”

“Lucky that I have a long reign ahead, then. Plenty of time for us all to get acquainted.”

“If you survive the Challenging, you mean.”

“Oh, I will.” I smiled. “You can be certain of that.”

I held firm to his gaze as he stared me down, the two of us locked in our own sort of mini-Challenge. Bodies brushed against my elbows as the Hanoverres edged closer.

“You know,” he said, “there’s a nasty rumor going around that you can’t use your magic. Some say you don’t even have any magic at all.”

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