Page 206 of Glow of the Everflame

At first, his face filled with contempt, but as I continued to watch him, searching his bright blue eyes for some glimpse of the soul beneath, his expression wavered, then turned guarded—almost as if he knew what I was doing and feared what I might find.

“Is there a problem?” Luther asked. “Did Aemonn—”

“It’s nothing.” I scrambled to rebuild my composure. “I have to win today, Luther. Ihaveto.”

“You will,” he insisted. There was such steadfast certainty in his voice, I almost began to believe it.

Luther nudged my horse toward the front of the procession. “It’s time. She knows the way.” He placed a fist across his chest and dipped his head. “Lead us, Your Majesty.”

I directed my mare to the front gate, refusing to make eye contact with Remis and Garath as I passed them to take the point position. They would ride at my flank, followed by Aemonn, then the rest of the Crown Council, with Teller and Lily just behind.

With no more titles to speak of and no formal connection to me, Luther should have been relegated to the back with the rest of the Corbois, but I knew better. I didn’t have to see him to know he would never be too far from my side, rules be damned.

As if he’d heard my thoughts, his familiar aura swirled around me and brushed against my skin. Despite the deadly odds I marched to meet, a smile spread across my face.

ChapterForty-One

The ride to the arena was long.

Torturously, excruciatingly long.

Envision-every-worst-case-scenariolong.

Consider-grabbing-my-brother-and-making-a-break-for-itlong.

Plummet-into-a-can’t-think-can’t-breathe-hands-trembling-state-of-overwhelming-paniclong.

All my best efforts to clear my thoughts failed disastrously as my mind put me through a self-constructed gauntlet and forced me to revisit every move I’d made since becoming Queen. I thought of all the ways I could have avoided making enemies. All the ways I could have fluttered my lashes and sweet-talked my way out of a Challenge.

All the ways I could have saved my father.

And though I tried, with every shred of my being, to remember there was no point in regrets, and to focus on the only thing that mattered today—surviving, by the time the forest opened up to the towering stone walls, my storm of emotions had become downright cataclysmic.

The arena was nearly unrecognizable from what I remembered at the funeral. The thin bed of sand on the central floor had been covered with scattered obstacles—large boulders, fallen logs, pits of mud, and the like.

When I’d asked why obstacles were needed for a duel of pure magic, one of the cousins had explained that it was “for the amusement of the spectators—no one wants to come all this way just to watch a quick, simple death.”

At least my demise would be entertaining.

A covered tent had been set up to offer me a small reprieve from the eyes of the crowd—“for weepy goodbyes,” the same cousin had so helpfully clarified.

I entered first from the royal box, surrounded by House Corbois. They leapt into action around me, mingling and jostling for the seats with the best view of the carnage with a nauseatingly casual ease.

I walked to the balcony at the front and closed my eyes as a soft breeze kissed my face. Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the sight of me, their gossip pelting me like arrows—commentary on everything from my appearance to my magic to my dead father to which Corbois cousin was allegedly sharing my bed.

It was all a game to them—my life, my suffering. Just something to pass the decades during their long, boring lives of privilege.

The mortals, at least, saw this for the bloodthirsty spectacle it was, perhaps because a mortal life felt so delicate and fleeting in comparison to a Descended’s near-immortal existence. Somewhere along the way, the Descended had lost sight of that truth—that every life was precious, and every day a gift.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, but you have to swear to me you won’t react.”

I opened my eyes to see Luther standing at my side, shoulder-to-shoulder, his eyes gazing onto the arena floor.

“Tell me.”

“Swear it first.”

“Fine, I swear.Tell me.”

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