Page 57 of Glow of the Everflame

“I know. She helped me get them out of Lumnos.”

My brows flew up. “My mother helped you with this?”

“There were times when I couldn’t get away for long enough, or when the children were too young or too injured to travel alone. She would escort them to my contacts in the realms where half-mortals are not so persecuted.”

So many times, my mother had left town on a moment’s notice, sometimes disappearing for days with barely a note. It had been such a common occurrence that I hadn’t questioned it—until the day she vanished for good.

“Did my father know?”

“Doubtful. Beyond a few others who helped us, we agreed to tell no one, not even our families.”

Panic speared through me. “Is this why she disappeared? If she was caught delivering a child—”

“No,” he said quickly, his tone emphatic. “She left for her own reasons, not mine.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Why would my mother threaten to expose you if she was helping you?” I asked, frowning.

“Your mother had a habit of making grand threats she had no intention of following through on.” A spark of amusement gleamed in his eyes. “Just like her daughter.”

I shot him a scowl, though I couldn’t deny it—bravado and threats were my first resort when backed into a corner, and no one had seen more evidence of that than Luther. “If you knew she wouldn’t betray you, why help her? Why not call her bluff?”

“Because the work she and I did together was more important. Your mother and I did not always agree, nor did we often get along. But I respected her.” He took a step closer and leaned his face to mine with an earnest stare. “And I would never have hurt her.”

My mind whirled with all he’d just revealed. The highs and lows of my relationship with this puzzling man had become an exhausting sport. Luther was supposed to be the target of my plans. He, more than anyone, was supposed to fear my reign—and yet he had inexplicably, inconceivably, become my confidant. Even now, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to strike him dead or throw my arms around his neck and thank him.

Despite every reason I had to consider him my enemy, something in me yearned to trust him. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to his glow, even as my wings burned and curled in the intensity of his fire.

I took one last look at the book in my hands. I offered a silent prayer for the children recorded inside and pressed my lips to the cover before handing it back to him.

“Tell Aemonn I will accept the bargain for his silence. I’ll take him to the ball.”

ChapterThirteen

My eyes traveled over the words I’d written. They were at once too much and not enough.

H,

It was a mistake to ask you to attend the event that we spoke of. It’s not yet safe for you here. Please don’t be angry. Protecting you is my only concern.

My hope for our future remains unchanged. I’ll send for you as soon as I can.

-D

There was so much I needed to say to Henri, but delivering this blow by cryptic, coded letter was bad enough. And I didn’t trust that Luther, or whatever courier he dispatched, would not find reading the Queen’s correspondence too strong a temptation to resist.

I folded the paper twice. Small drops of molten azure liquid fell from the candle I tilted over the letter’s seam. I did not dare use the royal seal. Instead, I pressed a small sprig of foxglove into the soft wax.

When we were young, Henri and I spent many afternoons wandering through the forest to collect foxglove for my mother’s use at the healer’s center while spinning tales of the great adventures we might have together someday.

I hoped Henri recognized the flower. I hoped he would understand what it meant—that I had not forgotten who I was. I hoped he had not forgotten, either.

“Here,” I sighed, holding the letter in the air. “He’s not going to be happy, so tell whoever you send to deliver it and get out of there quickly.”

Luther plucked the letter from my hand and tucked it into a pocket inside his jacket. “I’ll deliver it myself.”

“No!” I sprang out of my seat.Thatwas a bloodbath waiting to happen. “Have someone else do it.”

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