Page 86 of Glow of the Everflame

My magic vanished on the wind. My skin turned dull. My palms emptied. My dress faded to plain, unremarkable cloth.

Our last conversation played over and over in my ears.

You are not my father.

It was never more clear how true those words had been. And I’d never wanted so badly to be able to take them back.

He was crying. Even at this distance, I could see it—the bright sun glinting off the wetness on his cheeks.

It shattered me. Cracked me wide open.

I had never seen my father cry.Never. Not when Teller was born, not even after my mother had disappeared. He was steady, he was sure, an immovable force. For our family, he was the mighty shield no arrow could pierce.

But this had broken him.

Ihad broken him.

I crumpled to my knees, barely hearing the gasp that arose from the crowd. All the grief I had felt at realizing I was Descended came roaring back into me. My hands fell to my side, and a violent tremble took over my body. I felt no glimmer of my magic, no whisper of the godhood’svoice.

Nothing but despair.

Chaos erupted. Mortals whispered and pointed, Descended shouted, royals rushed to the edge of the dais to get a better look. In the corner of my vision, I saw Luther fighting to get to me, Remis and Garath holding him back.

I hung my head, unable to bear the sight of any of it. The world closed in around me, squeezing at my neck until I choked for breath.

A ferocious snarl brought the crowd to instant silence. I heard the flapping of wings, then felt a breeze flutter my hair, followed by a tremor that rattled the dusty arena floor, and a soft, breathy whimper.

I looked up and met Sorae’s golden eyes. With a growl that could crack bones, Sorae reared back and unlocked her jaws. She whipped her head to the side, and a stream of pale blue dragonfyre shot from between her razor-sharp fangs, curling around the pyre.

Within seconds, the King’s body disappeared in an inferno of glittering sapphire flames. The sweltering heat scalded my skin and dragged me unwilling into haunting memories of the armory attack.

I’d almost given in that night. I’d convinced myself my family and friends would be better off without me and the trouble I always seemed to bring, then I’d laid down beside the murdered guard and invited death to fold me into its embrace.

But thevoicehad refused to give up on me. My godhood had saved my life by forcing me back to my feet and reminding me of the strength that lived inside.

Then I remembered the end—the moment the armory began to collapse. Those last moments, where I’d looked into Luther’s eyes and saw a vision of... what, exactly, I didn’t know. A future that might come to pass, if I had the courage to pursue it.

A destiny.

Suddenly, a solid hand was on my back.

“You need to leave.” Luther’s voice was strained, edged with alarm. “Sorae will take you back to the palace. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”

“My father,” I croaked. “He’s here. He saw me.”

His head snapped to the mortal section of the crowd, and his eyes narrowed. He swore softly.

“I have to see him,” I whispered. “I have to explain, I...” My voice cracked.

“I’ll bring him to the palace. You need to go.Now.”

He crouched and offered out his hand, his muscles bunching forward as if he was one second away from scooping me up in his arms and carrying me out. For once, I gave into my weaker urges and leaned against him as we walked side by side to Sorae, needing the strength that poured through his protective aura. He kept his hands firmly locked on my waist as I mounted the gryvern. When I promised him I was secure, he moved to Sorae’s face and stroked a hand down the scaly expanse of her snout.

“Take her home,” he ordered. “Don’t let anyone she distrusts come near her.”

Sorae huffed in agreement. She didn’t waste a second before launching skyward, leaving the glittering, flaming ruby of the arena in our wake.

ChapterNineteen

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