Page 55 of Glow of the Everflame

In short, it felt like a home.

The room smelled so strongly of his woodsy, masculine musk. The scent transported me against my will to the memory of our shared ride on horseback—his broad hands splayed low on my stomach, his breath hot on my skin.

I swore under my breath at the disloyal thoughts. My body was all too willing to remind me that my interrupted tryst with Henri had left me lonely and wanting.

Flickering candlelight drew my attention to a small alcove across the room. Tucked into an arched niche sat a glossy marble bust of Lumnos, recognizable by the crown atop her head—a twin to the one I currently wore. The bust was surrounded by candles, aged flowers, and smooth, colorful stones.

Luther’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the room and stopped behind me.

“I didn’t realize you were so devout,” I said.

He didn’t answer for long enough that I turned to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the shrine, his face a portrait of reverence.

“Blessed Mother Lumnos spared me from death when I was very young. I vowed to give my life in service to her, to protect her realm and its people. I used to believe...” His eyes moved to mine, and just as before, he appeared to be looking through me, as if seeing something far beyond my gaze.

He stopped and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced at the item in his hands before offering it to me. “Here.”

I took the book—small, barely larger than my palm, and bound in rich cognac leather. The paper inside was thin and crinkled with tiny nicks from being thumbed through many times over.

“What is this?” I asked as I opened it.

Luther said nothing.

Each page contained a rough sketch of a child’s face, along with a list of names and a description.

Emmaline, newborn, daughter to father Piotr of House Benette and mortal mother Harriet Bilkings. Ice blue eyes, straight blonde hair, fair skin. Daughter and mother delivered safely to Meros.

Diedrick, eight months, son to mortal father Carell Jenks and mother Wilmora of House Althiena. Royal blue eyes, thick red hair, birthmark on left elbow. Father and son delivered safely to Umbros.

Zalaric, seven years, son to father Jean of House Hanoverre and mortal mother Penna Greystoll. Navy eyes with light specks, black curly hair, dark brown skin. Mother executed. Son delivered safely to Umbros.

There were pages and pages of them. Most were newborns, but a few were older—adolescents mixed with the rare teenager, and one that had passed into adulthood.

The thump of my heart grew deafening in my ears.

At the end of the book, a tattered scarlet ribbon separated a new section. At first glance, the contents appeared the same—faces, names, descriptions—but each was marked with a thick red X across the page. And each was missing the final line:delivered safely.

“Luther, what is this?” I asked again, softer.

“My penitence.”

Our eyes met, and the pain in them sliced through me as sharp as any blade.

“You accused me of executing the half-mortal children as the Keeper of the Laws, and I denied it.”

“You smuggled them out,” I breathed. “All these children... you didn’t kill them—you got them out of Lumnos.”

He nodded silently, his shoulders falling as if letting out a breath he’d been holding for many, many years.

“And the ones in the back, with the red mark?”

His eyes dragged to the bust of Lumnos. “The ones I failed,” he said, the depth of his regret echoing in each awful word.

I flipped through the pages, unable to tear my attention from the miniature sketches. He had found a way to capture it somehow—their grief at the rejection by their parents, their King, and their homeland.

It could have been me. Itwouldhave been me, had my mother not hidden me among the mortals. Angry as I was over her secrets, there was no denying they’d kept me alive.

“This book is my death warrant,” Luther said quietly. “It’s evidence of treason a hundred times over. Even if you would forgive it as Queen, others would ensure I paid the price.”

---