Page 356 of Heat of the Everflame

A part of me warmed at seeing these people put aside the differences of their realms to fight as one—and another chilled, knowing that soon,Imight be the enemy they united to defeat.

“Luther?” I called out.

My insides turned cold as my search dropped to the bodies littering the ground.

“Luther?” I yelled again.

No answer came.

My faith did not come easily. I didn’t put my trust in gods or Kindred, nor stars nor moon nor sun. Even the Everflame itself could not claim me as its disciple.

But Luther Corbois had asked me to have faith inhim.

And though it ripped me apart to turn away without knowing he was safe, if there was one force in all the world I could believe in, it was my Prince.

My breath came shallow and unsteady as I grudgingly raged down the street toward the mortal buildings, slashing at insurgents along the way.

Though I aimed for sword hands and ankles to fell the mortals without taking their lives, I sensed the numbness I’d felt in Fortos regaining ground. Every splatter of warm blood left me feeling colder, emptier, more unmoved. The slice of blade through flesh felt rote, almost clinical. It felt like my humanity was fighting to keep its claim on my soul—and slowly losing. My love for Luther was the one light that refused to dim, and though it filled me with terror to think of him while he was missing, I clung to it with all my might.

Finally, I came within reach of the burning monuments. My palm curled, and the clouds darkened. With a rumble of thunder, they unleashed a torrent of heavy rain, the winds of Meros carrying the water where it was needed most. I allowed myself a slow sigh as the flames died away, the mortal buildings damaged but otherwise safe.

The earth quaked beneath me.

A blur of black, red, and silver slammed into me and knocked me to the ground, the godstone sword flying out of my reach. Before I could scream, a sharp talon curled tightly around my throat.

“When I told you to come find me, daughter, this was not what I had in mind.”

Chapter

Sixty-Eight

Ophiucae’s voice wasn’t just heard—it wasfelt.

It pierced my thoughts and slithered over my skin. It was nowhere and everywhere, distant and muffled yet bellowing in my ear.

It had a primal, magnetic hold on me, like my blood somehowknewit had come from his veins.

He leaned over his gryvern’s neck to stare at me where I lay pinned in the creature’s hold. The blinding starlight of his illuminated skin made him painful to look at, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

I could see myself in him. Not just the ice-white hair and dark grey eyes that I’d spent a lifetime explaining away, but smaller things—the bell of his nose, the slope of his cheeks. The coy smirk fixed on his lips. The way his posture oozed irreverence as his shoulders pulled lazily back.

His gryvern snapped its fangs in my face, its black-slitted eyes as wild and maddened as his.

“I’m the man who gave you life.”

There was no emotion in his words, no trace of pride or fatherly love. Merely a cold introduction. A statement of fact.

“Y-yes,” I stammered. “And I’m the woman who gave you freedom.”

He nodded slightly. “And for that, you alone will be spared from what’s to come.”

“What does that mean? What’s coming?”

His smile grew, no answer offered.

I struggled against his gryvern’s hold. It dragged me slightly off the ground, the weight of my dangling body causing its talons to crush my ribs and choke tighter around my throat.

Ophiucae slid off its back and sauntered forward. He stared down at me, my legs flailing as I gasped for air. His upper lip twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or amused.

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