Page 147 of Glow of the Everflame

“Any last suggestions?” I said with a chipper smile that I was certain he could see right through. “Eleanor already warned me not to ask Evrim about his brother’s gambling habit or bring up what happened at the last Forging Ball.”

“Good advice. He’ll never live that night down.” His lips slid into a smirk. “He’s alsoverytouchy about his height.”

My grin turned real—and wicked. “I’ll tuck that little gem away for use at a later date.”

Luther let out a dark chuckle that made my chest go fluttery, then a calm focus took hold of his features.

“Evrim uses fear over the mortals to cover his real interest, which is the profit he stands to make if the war escalates. The more scared everyone is, the more weapons they buy from him.”

“Interesting. So you don’t think he really hates the mortals?”

“No, though he’s happy to encourage it with the other Houses. Other than House Corbois, House Benette is the most powerful of the Twenty Houses, but also the easiest to manipulate. They will always go where the money is.”

My mind wrestled with the potential of that information. As we approached the meeting room, the sound of belly laughter roared from within. Luther and I shared a confused look.

When I entered, Taran had his arm slung around my father’s shoulders in a near-headlock. Though my father was strongly built for a mortal, he looked comically tiny beside Taran, who was massive even by Descended standards. Eleanor’s hands were clasped in my father’s, the three of them laughing so hard tears had formed at the corners of their eyes.

“Queenie!” Taran called out. “Your father’s telling us how you refused to wear clothes for a month straight.”

“And how you set all your dresses on fire because you couldn’t climb trees in them,” Eleanor added.

I blinked at what I was seeing—my father, joking with my new Descended friends as if they were old chums. Something warm and precious burst in my heart.

“When she was four, she couldn’t pronounce the letter S without spitting,” my father said with a grin. “For months, she walked around drooling all over the house.”

“Father!” I shouted, laughing. I ran up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “You’re supposed to advise me on how to torturethem, not the other way around.”

“Too late,” Taran said. “We’re going to make him a regular at Corbois dinners.”

My stomach churned at that suggestion.

“Your Highness,” my father said to Luther with a deep nod.

Luther returned the gesture, his expression now hardened into his typical firm facade. “Good to see you again, sir. And please, call me Luther.”

Between the four of us, I wasn’t sure whose face looked the most shocked. Luther’s insistence on titles bordered on pathological. Every time I gave someone leave to call me Diem rather than Your Majesty, he cringed so hard I thought he might be experiencing actual, physical pain. Though he tolerated his closest friends using his name in private, I’d never seen him permit it from a stranger—and certainly not in formal meetings such as these.

“How nice to finally have some pretty faces to look at during these dreadful Council meetings,” Aemonn said, flashing me a smile as he strolled in with his father.

“What are they doing here?” Garath demanded, jerking his chin to Eleanor and my father. “They aren’t on the Council.”

“Good morning to you, as well,” I clipped.

He scowled. “Your Majesty,” he gritted out in reluctant greeting.

I gave him my sunniest smile. “Actually, I have appointed Eleanor and my f—Andrei as my advisors. They are the first, and thus faronly, members of my Council.”

“Along with your High General,” Luther corrected, his eyes still twinkling with victory over his accidental appointment at last night’s ball.

Garath eyed my father. “The other Houses will be furious to see a mortal on the Council when they’ve been demanding their own seat for centuries.”

“Andrei was already an advisor to the late King on mortal matters,” I said. “This is merely a continuation of Ulther’s approach, as Remis and I discussed.”

Garath started to spit something back, and I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him in a blatant dismissal. I could feel the daggers slicing into my back from his incensed glare.

My father stared at me with a tight expression that seemed to rotate through awe, confusion, and dismay. “If my presence is a problem, I’m happy to—”

“Nonsense,Commander,” I said firmly, hoping he heard the pride in my tone. “The Crown Council is mine to appoint. End of discussion.”

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