Page 195 of Heat of the Everflame

But not that.

“We need a balcony where Sorae can land,” Alixe said, wisely steering the subject to safer ground. “The throne room, perhaps.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Zalaric cut in. “The Centenaries sometimes sneak up there and use the throne for their, um... activities.”

“Yrselle’s private dining room,” I said. “There’s a large terrace, and no one will be using that room this late.”

Zalaric nodded. “We should go now. If she’s still in the lounge, the path may be clear of guards.”

“We?” I asked, eyebrows rising.

Taran sat straighter. “You’ll come with us?”

Zalaric quietly stared at his hands for a moment. “If I do, I will not hide who I am, where I’ve been, or what I’ve done. I am a half-mortal and a Hanoverre. And I refuse to be anyone’s dirty little secret.”

He glanced at Taran, who gave a subtle nod.

“Good,” I said firmly. “I can’t promise you’ll be safe—I can’t even promiseIwill be safe. But I can promise you’ll have a Queen as your ally.”

He took a deep breath. “Then let’s go home.”

Chapter

Forty

Our plan was simple.

Alixe and Zalaric would use magic to cloak the group from sight. I would remain visible—if the Centenaries sensed someone nearby, they would see me and think nothing of it. If anyone stopped me, I’d claim I couldn’t sleep and I was visiting Yrselle’s library to pass the time, flashing her key as evidence of her consent.

But as I strode brazenly down the palace pathways, spinning Yrselle’s key in my hand, something she’d said didn’t sit quite right.

An “open invitation to visit,” she’d called the key. Yet, moments later, she’d admitted her death was arriving soon—and that her successor would make themselves my enemy.

Why, then, would she encourage me to return? Did shewantme to challenge her heir—here, in their own realm? What would that accomplish, other than putting my mother’s life at risk and—

I froze mid-step.

My mother.

Yrselle’s vote was the only thing preventing her execution. Leaving now, like this—how far would Yrselle go to get her revenge?

“Is something wrong?” Alixe’s voice whispered from what looked like an empty corner.

I didn’t answer, my mind lost in my grim choices. This was Yrselle’s dinner game made real. The palace was burning, and it fell to me to choose whom to save and whom to abandon to a fiery fate.

Who will live, and who will burn?

“Diem,” Luther’s voice called out.

I closed my eyes, letting the steadiness of it, of him, calm me.

If this was the game, my answer had not changed. I would save them all—or I’d die trying.

“I’m fine,” I answered. “Let’s keep going.”

Though laughter and sex-addled moans rang out unnervingly nearby, we somehow managed to reach the dining room unnoticed. To my relief, the room was dark and uninhabited, and the terrace was empty, no gryvern to be found. We crafted a paltry barricade of chairs in front of the door and settled in for an anxious wait.

While Taran tended to Luther, I tucked Yrselle’s key into my dress and slipped off to the balcony. The moon was no more than a fuzzy glow behind a canopy of winter clouds. She’d watched and laughed at my disastrous sail from Arboros. She was nowhere to be found during our escape in Ignios that set this awful path in motion. Tonight, it seemed she was hiding her eyes, unable to bear watching what was about to unfold.

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