Page 253 of Heat of the Everflame

The woman’s eyes glowed bright blue as her chin lifted. “Return to your chambers, Your Majesty. Don’t force us to harm our own Queen.”

“Don’t worry, there’s no danger of that.” I stalked forward and clipped her with my shoulder to force her aside.

Her arm swung out across my chest. She gripped me by the elbow, yanking me toward her.

I stilled. My gaze slowly lowered to my arm as my voice went soft. “Remove your hand.”

“Simply return to your chambers, and no harm will come to you or your gryv—”

Her words cut off as every guard in the hall was flung backward by the explosive force of my magical pulse. I’d only put a fraction of my power into it, but it was enough to crunch bone as soft bodies met stone walls.

I set off in a sprint. More guards spotted me, calling out demands to stop—only to find themselves pinned against the nearest wall with a searing rope of light or a razor wire of darkness.

When I reached the stairs to the foyer, thirty army soldiers were ready and waiting. They raised their weapons, and I raised my palm to condemn them to the same fate as the others.

Then I stopped. A few held weapons made not of dull grey Fortosian steel, but a telltale glittering black.

“You threaten me with godstone in my own home?” I snarled.

“And we’re not afraid to use it,” their commander barked. “Go back to your chambers.”

I slowly walked down the staircase, my rage boiling to a dangerous heat. I had to be careful—one reckless blast of my magic and godstone blades would go flying. If they did, there was no telling how many lives it could cost. Even a minor nick could be a death warrant.

I could use my Umbros magic to persuade them all to turn away, but then my secret would be out. If the Crowns wanted to question me before, that would make me enemy number one—if I wasn’t already.

My fists clenched at my sides. Until now, I’d been blunt-forcing my way through every battle, making up for lack of skill with sheer power and dumb luck. I was the magical equivalent of a toddler with a hammer—able to do enormous damage, but only if I was willing to smash everything in sight.

This required a delicate touch. Sophisticated precision, the kind of magic one only gained after years of training. And I’d been deprived of that chance by the progeny laws and my mother’s lies.

“Step aside,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re delusional,” their commander sneered back. “Even the King of Fortos couldn’t take us all.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize the King of Fortos was so weak.”

The commander narrowed his eyes—red, like his counterpart in Mortal City.

“Sheath your blades and fight me like a Descended,” I taunted. “I’ll level the odds for you—I won’t even raise my shield.”

He pointed his sword toward me, and I stared at the blade as it hovered inches from my face. The sunlight streaming through the palace windows cast twinkling specks on the onyx stone, likemoonlight glinting off the choppy waves of a midnight sea. It was paradoxically beautiful for something so vile.

“I hear you’re a Guardian sympathizer,” he jeered. “I wouldn’t mind putting this right through your neck. Give me a reason, and I’ll do it.”

I held his stare and sent a wave of my magic rippling through the air. Not an attack, but a warning.

A warning their stillness suggested they were not inclined to heed.

“Diem?” Luther’s voice called from outside.

The door to the palace flew open, revealing my furious-looking Prince. His chest and thighs bore glowing armor of pale blue light, while barbed shadows coiled up and down his sinewed arms.

His eyes thinned to slits as they stopped on the sword now pointed at my throat. He raised his fists, forearms dark with swirls of roiling night.

“Touch her,” he snarled, throaty and vicious, “and I’ll peel every last vein from under your flesh and strangle you with them.”

Though I shivered at his words, my godhood was exhilarated at the sight of him. It pried at my ribs, yearning to be let loose and join him in battle.

Fight, itsvoicedemanded.

---