Page 158 of Glow of the Everflame

As an enemy.

I rushed to the pile of gifts presented at the ball from the foreign Descended and pulled out the blade from Fortos, the weapon-proof scarf from Ignios, and the cure-all potion from Arboros.

“Here.” I draped the scarf around Teller’s neck and chest and shoved the other objects into his hands. “Take these. Keep them with you at all times.”

“You’re fussing again.”

“They’ll keep you safe. We don’t know who—”

“D, it wasn’t a kid at school who killed him.”

“We don’t know who it was,” I snapped. “And until we do, we trust no one.”

We stared each other down. Teller must have seen the terror underlying my stubbornness, because he sighed and gave in.

“No weapons allowed at school,” he said, handing the blade back. “I’ll take the rest.”

“Good. I’ll walk you out.” He started to protest, and I raised a hand to cut him off. “It’s on my way. I’m meeting with House Hanoverre.”

He wrinkled his nose at the mention of the Hanoverres, a sentiment I deeply shared.

I attached the Fortos dagger to my own waist, adding it to the arsenal of weapons I’d already strapped across my body. There would be no fancy dresses for this House Reception—today I’d chosen some clothing gifted by Alixe, a regal twist on the armored uniform of the Royal Guard.

It was a message—this was war, and I was prepared to fight.

I took Teller’s arm and wordlessly pushed past the pack of Corbois, eager to avoid being left alone with their sad eyes and pitying words. Someday, I might be healed enough to appreciate their sympathy.

But not today.

Today, my grief was a sharp, pointed thing. A weapon—a mace, covered in poisoned spikes, ready to demolish anyone it swung at.

So I was doing my best to aim it in the right direction.

When we arrived at the sprawling front doors, I turned to Teller and rearranged the spydersilk scarf until it covered all his major organs.

“Be safe,” I ordered. “Don’t take any risks.”

“Don’t kill any Hanoverres,” he muttered. “Not yet, at least.”

We shared a dark look, then he followed Lily down to the palace gates. Despite the absurdly large collection of guards that accompanied them, my hands trembled as my brother walked away from the safety of my side. I stood watch until they were no longer visible, and even for a little while after that.

“Follow them,” I whispered. Across the bond, Sorae pulsed back an acknowledgement, then sprang skyward in a direct line down the path to the Descended school.

When I spun to reenter the palace, the four Corbois cousins had arranged themselves in a line at my back, and I nearly ran straight into Taran’s chest. He shifted to the side to open up a path.

“I’m so sorry about your father, Diem. We all are.”

His use of my name instead of his silly nickname, the tender hesitation to his voice—I nearly broke all over again.

“If there’s anything we can do—”

“Thank you,” I clipped, shoving past him.

Today, I needed strength. Even if that strength could only be found in anger.

None of them said another word as they followed dutifully behind me and we filed into the meeting room. I headed for my throne but stumbled to a pause when my eyes fell on the chair where my father had last sat.

He was gone.

---