Page 360 of Heat of the Everflame

“Looks like we both found some newjewelry,” Luther added with a teasing lilt. He held up his weapon—not the plain blade he’d gone into battle with, but a gleaming one, capped with a jewel-encrusted hilt.

Triumph flashed in his eyes as he wiped off the bloody Sword of Corbois on his pants, then slid it into its scabbard and swung it onto his back like it had never been gone.

My heart leapt at seeing the ornate handle rising over his shoulder once more. The teasing over it, the revelation of its meaning, his offering of it at my father’s grave—the sword had become part of our journey, a vital step in revealing the truth of who Luther Corbois really was.

But, glad as I was to see it restored, the red-hot adrenaline had not yet cooled in my veins.

My awestruck stare turned into a snarl. “You abandoned me in battle for a gods-damnedsword?”

He bristled, looking wounded by my words. “Not for the sword.” He raised his vine-wrapped fist and tugged the body behind him forward. “Caught this one breaking into a school.”

I looked closer. The man’s features were bloody and swollen, and a gag of shadow magic obscured the lower half of his face.

“He went after the younger children whose magic hasn’t yet manifested. They were defenseless.” Luther’s fist twitched, and the dark cords clenched tighter, squeezing a gasp from the man’s throat. “Fortunately,Iam not.”

He let his magic dissolve, and the man slumped to the ground, coughing as blood leaked from his lips. When he finally glared up at me, the hatred in his brown eyes was unmistakable.

“Vance,” I hissed, surprised and yet not. Going after children was just what I’d expect. He might talk a bold game about self-sacrifice, but when it counted, the man was a coward to his core. “I should have let my gryvern fry you.”

“And I should have let you die on the island.” His focus shifted to my throat. “He markedyou?Why would he do that?”

“Probably because he’s my birth father.”

“He’sthe Descended Auralie fucked?” His stunned look melted into a smile. “That should put an end to our problems recruiting the rest of the Guardians.”

I crouched at his eye level. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with this man, Vance.”

“I know he wants the Descended to bleed. That’s good enough for me.”

“And when he kills every Descended strong enough to defeat him, what then?” Luther snapped at him. “He’s wearing a Crown, you idiot. You think he’s going to hand it off toyou?”

A flicker of something approaching an intelligent thought skimmed Vance’s face before he dragged it back to a glare. “I don’t need advice from you two. If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

I glanced around. We’d attracted a crowd, and they were all staring at Vance with patent bloodlust. If I didn’t execute him, these book-loving pacifists might rip his limbs clean off his body themselves.

But the mortal man’s accusation from earlier still haunted my thoughts.All I see is mortal blood on your blade and Descended fighting at your back.

Perhaps I could grudgingly accept killing in battle as a necessary evil, but slaying a wounded hostage on his knees felt like the same kind of petty revenge that had sparked this fight in the first place. Blood for blood would only end when there was no one left to kill.

I could declare Vance a prisoner of the Crowns, bound for the prison in Fortos—but one look at the Sophos guards told me he would never make it out of this city alive.

And what good was an execution? It wouldn’t stop Ophiucae and his men from continuing to kill. At best it would remove a thorn from my side, but at worst, it could turn Vance intoa martyr that might ruin any chance I had at swaying the Guardians to my cause.

“Promise me, Vance,” I said. “I let you go, you’ll leave this man behind, and you and your followers will go back to Lumnos.”

He chuckled darkly. “Sure, Sister Bellator. I promise.” His toothy, bloodied grin made itpainfullyclear—to me and to everyone else—how little honesty lay in that empty vow.

My heart was torn. I desperately wanted to pull Luther aside and seek his advice, but I was still so shaken by his disappearance I could barely meet his eyes without falling apart.

All I could rely on were the same words he’d given me from the start.

Trust your instincts, my Queen—above all else, trust yourself.

If he didn’t already regret saying that, this would seal it for good.

Vance flinched as I reached for him, but Luther held him still. I cupped his swollen, injured jaw—perhaps pressing a littletoohard and savoring his grimace of pain a littletoomuch—to release healing magic into his skin.

Luther had done a number on him—countless broken bones, stab wounds to the side and foot, and a thigh muscle sliced clean through. The wounds to his groin were particularly gruesome.

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