Page 179 of Heat of the Everflame

“What did you just call m—”

“Because I’d never leave any of them behind. I’d find a way to save them all, or I would die trying.”

“But—”

Yrselle raised a palm to stop her. “It may not fit the game, but it’s indeed the truth. Any other answer from Diem would be a lie.”

“And that’s why we swore her our oath,” Alixe said, tapping a fist to her chest in salute.

Taran echoed the gesture. “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” Luther said softly, setting his palm flat over his heart.

Emotion burned at the back of my throat.

My eyes caught with Zalaric’s. He looked confused—almost conflicted. Like he couldn’t imagine why I would do that for him. Like he wasn’t sure he even wanted it.

That, I could understand. To have someone willing to die for you—it was a gift, but it was also a burden. Aliability, Alixe had called it. For someone like Zalaric, so adept at navigating a dangerous world all on his own, that burden might not be so welcome.

He shook it off with a nervous laugh. “I think Her Majesty just won the game.” He grinned down the table at Taran. “Now whose answer is making you look bad?”

Zalaric’s tone was playful, empty of spite, but Taran’s face soured. “At least we’re willing to fight for someone other than ourselves.”

Zalaric flinched, his smile falling.

“I agree with Zalaric,” Yrselle declared. “Diem’s answer wins the game. No mirror could look deeper than that. And as your prize for winning, I’ll answer your question about the war.”

She drank until the final drop of emerald liquid disappeared between her lips. Her hand cupped the bowl of her wine glass, then she held it out in front of her andsqueezed. It shattered in her palm with an explosion of glittering shards.

I gasped and jerked forward to help her on instinct. As a mortal, broken glass had been a harmful, wounding thing—but Yrselle was no mortal. Instead of trails of blood spilling on the table, the jagged pieces harmlessly dimpled her skin, then tumbled like sparkling pebbles from her fist.

“Look at that.” She wiggled her fingers. “Not even a scratch. All because the blood of Blessed Father Umbros runs in my veins. You know, even the most distant relation to a Kindred will bestow such gifts. The Sophos Crowns have been researching it for centuries—breeding Descended with mortals, then breeding that child with a mortal, then breedingthatchild with a mortal, on and on for generations. The Kindred blood never fades. No amount of mortal blood can destroy it. Only the blood of another Kindred can do that.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“One of my girls, Drusila—” She pointed to a woman nearby with blush-colored curls and a shy smile. “—is mated with a Meros man.”

Drusila waved, revealing a shimmering tattoo on her wrist.

“I’ve granted them leave to bear a child. Because her magic is stronger than her mate’s, the babe will be one of ours, with black eyes and thought magic—our next Centenary. It may take its father’s nose or laugh or personality, but his Meros blood will simplydisappear, defeated by her Umbros blood.” Yrselle’s lip curled back. “Sophos has been studying that too, trying to recruit my Centenaries for their tests. The Crowns would love nothing more than to breed our line out of existence.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “No group should be forced to die off—mortal or Descended. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with the war.”

“Tell me, do you know why we named it the Blood War?”

“Because of the blood sun on the morning the war began,” I said, parroting what I’d been taught in school. “And because of how many people died.”

She laughed. “That’s the safe answer we give the mortals.” She pointed to my Crown. “It was the old Lumnos King who coined it. He said the war was about blood—whose would triumph, whose would survive. We Crowns were certain we would prevail, because we believed the blood of the nine Kindred would always win out—in war, as in life.”

“And you were right,” Symond said snidely, joined by a wave of nods and snickers.

Yrselle’s nostrils flared. Silence abruptly choked their responses as they all froze mid-movement.

“We were fools,” she hissed. “Our hubris cost us dearly. We lost two gryverns, thousands of lives, and we almost lost the war. These new Crowns have learned nothing from that lesson.”

She held out her palm to me, beckoning with an expectant look. I hesitantly set my hand in hers. She grabbed it by the wrist and flipped it over, then dragged a fingernail down my palm. I felt a bite of pain, then watched in surprise as a line of blood sprang to the surface. Only then did I see the glint of a dark blade fastened to the edge of her nail.

Luther tensed at the sight of my blood and reached for my arm, sparks of light and shadow swirling at his palm. My other hand shot out to his leg and pressed gently in a wordless order to stand down. He stilled, the softest rumble rolling low in his throat, then slowly eased back into his chair.

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