Page 159 of Glow of the Everflame

My father, my beloved father, wasgone.

We were just here, talking together in this very room. He was laughing with Taran and holding Eleanor’s hand, teasing me about my childhood mishaps.

And now he was so utterly gone that I didn’t even have a body to bury. Just a memory—a name on my lips, and nothing more.

Alixe slid into my father’s chair. The rage that roared through me must have shown on my face, because she took one look at me and went deadly still.

“What are you doing there?” I demanded.

“I asked her to come,” Luther jumped in. “Given the demands made by House Benette, I thought her insight on the army might prove useful.”

I whipped to face him. “More useful than my father was, you mean?”

His face went ashen. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

My eyes narrowed. “I seem to recall you pushing me to choose Alixe instead of my father. How quickly you got your wish.”

He shook his head with a tortured expression. “I would never wish this on anyone, least of all you,” he said, his voice heartbreakingly soft. “He was a good man and a wise advisor.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Alixe said, rising from the chair. “I’ll leave.”

“Wait,” I hissed. “Just... wait.” I stared at the empty chair and ordered myself to breathe as I yanked on the reins of my temper. I felt wholly out of control, a helpless passenger to my own rage.

“I’m sorry,” Luther murmured. “I only meant to help.”

I’m only trying to help.

The last words my father had spoken to me.

My eyes slammed closed as grief battered its fists at my chest. Strange, how armor could be both a shield and a cage, keeping the arrows out while trapping the monster in.

Hateful, intrusive thoughts poked and prodded at the edge of my mind.

You can’t control yourself.

Your temper ruins everything.

Your father was right—you’re a selfish, useless Queen.

Choosing not to postpone these House Receptions had been averybad idea.

“You might as well stay,” I gritted out. I turned my back to them all and sank into my throne. “He’s dead, and he’s not coming back.”

The Corbois cousins stiffened as House Hanoverre arrived in noisy fashion with the rest of the Council. Aemonn had Iléana on his arm, the two of them walking alongside Jean and laughing, while Marthe Hanoverre shuffled forward with one arm each on Remis and Garath.

Their merriment faded as they entered and saw me already seated. I didn’t bother to stand or even turn my head. Between my volatile emotions and their place high on my list of suspects for my father’s killer—second only to House Benette—silence was the best I was willing to offer.

I locked my focus on the chair directly ahead as Marthe Hanoverre took her seat, and her own formidable stare slid into the path of mine.

As our eyes connected, I sent every spark of suspicion, every burning flame of hatred, hurtling her direction.

Though she did not cower, there was an apprehension to her weathered face. “I heard the news. My condolences for your loss.”

Vicious, murderous words climbed up my throat.

“I understand it occurred the day after the ball,” she continued. “House Hanoverre had a large gathering at my home that day in preparation for this meeting.”

At least she was smart enough to know she was a prime suspect.

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