Page 48 of Glow of the Everflame

I faltered a beat.

“House Receptions?” I repeated.

“Private meetings with the heads of each of the Twenty Houses. They are the most vital step in avoiding a Challenge.” He arched a single brow. “Surely my son has begun preparing you for them.”

“He has not,” I clipped. “All the more reason to more closely heed your counsel, it seems.”

It was the right thing to say—at least if Remis’s triumphant smirk was any indication.

“I beg you to forgive my son’s error, Your Majesty. I’ll have a stern word with him.”

“Please do. Let him know that his Queen does not appreciate him withholding vital information that she would dearly like to know.” I flashed a smirk of my own. “Be sure and use thoseexactwords.”

He gave another exaggerated bow, the dip of his head barely concealing his smug self-assurance. “Until tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

I spun on my heel, rushing for the nearest door. Even I could only feign so much confidence in one day before I succumbed to the mess I felt on the inside, and the idea of meeting with the most powerful Descended in Lumnos—meetings so important that Remis thought we needed astrategy—had me close to my limit.

A throat cleared behind me. “Your Majesty—I believe that way leads to the servants’ passages.”

Shit.

“Yes, I’m aware,” I lied cheerily, waving a hand in the air as I disappeared behind the door. “A Queen must know every inch of her palace!”

* * *

I foundmyself halfway down a dark, nondescript hallway. Cabinets lined each wall, overflowing with buckets and rags, piles of crystal glassware and silver cutlery, linens in a kaleidoscope of colors, and fat, waxy candles of every size. Windowless walls stretched left and right, lit with glowing orbs that floated at far intervals.

I walked up to the nearest one and gazed at it, struck by the odd feeling of familiarity that thrummed in my chest. It felt like a tiny part of me had been plucked from my ribs and hung from the ceiling.

Whose magic fueled these lights? Was there a servant somewhere whose job it was to illuminate these halls with their powers? Or did it all somehow stem from the very Crown atop my head?

“I heard she’s already sleeping with Aemonn. Didn’t take her very long.”

Footsteps drifted from my left, along with the quiet murmur of voices.

“I heard she killed the King. One of the guards said she attacked him the day he died.”

My jaw clenched. A group of servants was approaching—and evidently gossiping aboutme. A part of me wanted to hold my ground and confront them, but a far larger part filled with panic as I searched for an exit.

“The King was already dying. If she did finish him off, it was a mercy. Everyone knows he’d been wanting to go ever since his mate died.”

The voices grew louder. Through a cracked door, I caught sight of walls lined with divided shelves, many bursting with folded parchment or twine-wrapped boxes.

A mailroom—I remembered this from Eleanor’s tour. An opening on the room’s opposite corner led to the palace’s front halls.

“Well, I think she’s up to something. How is it possible she’s more powerful than Prince Luther, yet no one’s heard of her? She has to be a—”

I slipped out just in time to avoid the servants as they passed down the hall. My lungs burned with a deep exhale of relief. As I crept out of the mailroom, I grinned to myself at my narrow escape from certain humiliation, then turned to make my way to the foyer.

And ran straight into the chest of Henri Albanon.

ChapterEleven

Once, when I was a young girl, I almost died.

Teller and I were in the throes in a months-long tree-climbing duel, and I’d set my sights on a towering cypress edging the marsh that was nearly twice the height of his tallest conquest.

A third of the way up, the spindly branches grew too thin to support my weight, but pride—and my brother’s teasing—goaded me into ignoring my instincts. Up and up I ascended, until a fatefulsnaphad me tumbling head-first into shallow water.

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