Page 341 of Heat of the Everflame

“And what makes a request worthy?”

“A documented history of study and interest. Trustworthy references. No criminal activity.”

“In my realm, ‘study and interest’of mortal historyiscriminal activity. How is any mortal ever supposed to qualify?”

“Mortals from Lumnos have visited before. One arrived not long ago.” Doriel’s lips slid into a cold smile. “Regardless, that seems like a problem the Crown ofLumnosneeds to address.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s why I’m here. My Regent tells me I must complete the coronation ritual to take my throne. So...” I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “What’s it going to take to make that happen, Doriel?”

They sipped lightly at their tea. “There are several obstacles. Serious concerns about your legitimacy as the Lumnos Crown, to say nothing of your assistance to the rebels.”

“You saw my Crown with your own eyes. And if I wasn’t a Crown, I couldn’t do this.” I held out my palms and sent a deluge of darkness through the room. It cascaded into a sea of ebony liquid that splashed against the walls, then churned into a swirling whirlpool around our chairs.

Doriel’s teacup rattled against its saucer as they lifted their feet. “Stop it,” they hissed. “You’ll ruin my books.”

I let the magic linger a little longer—long enough for Doriel to yelp as the tide of shadows licked against their waist—then banished them with a flick.

“They’re notyourbooks, either.” I waved a hand at the room, bone-dry and unaffected by my magic. “I would never hurt them. These books mean as much to me as they do to you.”

Doriel slammed their cup down and stalked to the bookshelves, meticulously inspecting them for damage. Once satisfied I’d done no harm, they turned back in a huff. “If you’re the Lumnos Crown, how do you explain what happened at the coronation? Your blood broke the heartstone, and the gems on the ritual dagger should have turned blue, not grey.” They stilled, then leaned forward, their gaze thinning in scrutiny. “Just like your eyes...”

“At the time, I was as confused as you. But I think I now have an explanation.” I frowned. “Or at least a partial one. If you’re willing to listen.”

With as little detail as I could get away with—and some creative embellishingto hide my worst misdeeds—I told Dorielthe story of my last few weeks: My kidnapping by the Guardians. My flight into Ignios, then Umbros. My visit to my mother in Fortos and its King’s unprovoked attack, leading to his death and my mother’s escape. My confrontation with Ophiucae, and my mother’s revelation about who he was to me.

For now, I left out the full truth of my spectrum of magic—and my two new Crowns.

“You’re saying this man has been chained up on Coeurîle for years?” Doriel said when I finished. “And he’s your father?”

“My sire,” I corrected. “Andrei Bellator is my father. I’ve never met this man.”

“How did he get on the island?”

“I was hoping you might have an answer for that. Is there anything in your archives that might shed some light?”

Doriel’s eyes glazed over. They seemed to lose themself sifting through thousands of stored memories in rapid succession—all the books they’d ever read, all the records they’d ever reviewed.

My instincts poked at me to reach inside their head and take a peek. With the whole of Emarion’s history at their fingertips, there was no telling the priceless information they knew. The things I could learn...

Doriel shifted their weight and stiffly shook their head. “No. Nothing I’m aware of.”

My godhood snarled, the Umbros magic within me sensing the lie.

“Nothing?” I pushed. “I can’t imagine the Crowns would abandon a man in their most sacred space without leaving an explanation. If anyone would know why, it would be you.”

They pursed their lips. “Indeed. But I do not.”

Lie.

“And his symbol—the ten-pointed star?” I had to fight an urge to touch the glowing mark concealed beneath my scarf. “The Montios Council said they asked you to research it.”

Doriel’s lashes fluttered as their eyes briefly lowered. “We haven’t found anything yet.”

Another lie.

I slumped back into my chair. I could reach into their mind and take the truth, but it might kill any hope of a truce.

“You said you’ve come to offer a trade,” Doriel said, clearly keen to change the subject. “Your Crown for your sword?”

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