Page 395 of Heat of the Everflame

I gripped the dark stone of my portal to keep upright. Her timing was curious, but her appearance was the true shock. She looked every inch the majestic, dangerous Queen she was in a shimmering silk jacquard gown, its voluminous skirts cascading in every direction, edged in black velvet that set off her dark eyes. An exaggerated tulle collar billowed around her head like a puff of smoke caught in perfect stillness, and a cape trimmed with diamonds as big as my thumbnail splayed behind her in a regal train. Tiny, glittering gemstones studded her bronzed decolletage and disappeared down the canyon of her plunging neckline.

“This is new,” Ignios jeered. “Usually you’re barely wearing any clothes at all.”

The chunky baubles dangling from her ears clinked as she shrugged. “I came dressed for a coronation.Several, in fact.” Her depthless gaze sat heavy on mine, then ticked above my head. “I see you’ve picked up a third since I saw you last.”

Doriel stilled, glancing warily between us, while the others looked on in confusion.

“I heard what happened in your realm,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, Yrselle. If I had known...”

“Then what?” One slender eyebrow arched. “Would you have stayed? Traded one last day with your lover for the lives of my Centenaries?”

My throat worked. I wouldn’t do her the disrespect of lying, but I didn’t know the truth.

“I warned you that if you left, my people would die,” she hissed. “I should kill you for that alone.”

“How did you know an attack was coming?” Ignios asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.

“I know more than you could possibly imagine, Ignios.” She looked him over with an unimpressed frown. “Though you do set the bar dreadfully low.”

Faunos flicked a hand dismissively. “Yes, Umbros, you and your spies know all and see all. We’ve heard this routine before. If you know what we’re voting on, then give yours already.”

“Her vote doesn’t matter,” Ignios argued. “Lumnos only has three votes. Without Fortos and Montios, she can’t get to six.”

“Diem hasfivevotes,” Yrselle said. “Or have you imbeciles still not looked at her Crown?”

Six pairs of eyes crept to me—or rather, to my glowing three-peaked circlet of vines, veins, and ice.

The usual cries ofthis-can’t-beandhow-did-this-happenrained down on me from the Ignios, Arboros, and Faunos arches to my right. Across the Temple, Meros gave a loaded glance to Doriel that raised the hairs on my nape.

“If you have questions, take them up with the Kindred,” I said flatly. “I don’t have answers. And I’m about as pleased with it as all of you are.”

“If you have their Crowns... do you also have their magic?” Arboros asked.

“Theirs—and yours, as well,” I confessed. “Ignios fire, Meros wind, Sophos spark.” My gaze cut to Yrselle. “Umbros thought.”

She nodded calmly, looking as if she’d known it all along. Looking as if she was confirming it tome, rather than the other way around.

The Temple fell brutally silent.

Crowns were fiercely possessive by nature. I’d felt it myself—when I’d seen the Lumnos light speckling the market hall in Umbros, some part of me had been hissing “mine.” I’d felt the same way toward the blue-eyed staff in Zalaric’s inn. Though they were technically Yrselle’s subjects, their Lumnos magic had sparked a primal drive in me to claim them, to both protect them and make them kneel.

It seemed the Crowns were battling the same urges now. But I was the one and only bearer of their magic they could never force to kneel, neither by law nor by might.

And that made me a threat.

The sun was halfway to bed, its last rays gilding the tall island brush. Night was quickly arriving, and with it, changing winds. A frosty breeze kicked up the hair on my shoulders and sent it whipping like a warning shot across my face.

“Cast your vote, Umbros,” Doriel said darkly.

“Please, Yrselle,” I said. “You asked me how far I’m willing to go... I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I’m ready to do what must be done.”

“You don’t deserve my vote.” She spat the words, and the last of my hope crumbled. “You deserve to suffer as my people suffered. And believe me, you will.” Her pitch-black eyes seemed to grow even darker. “It’s not just my Centenaries they massacred, you know. They killed every Descended they could find. Tell my dear Zalaric his inn is in need of a new staff.”

I flinched as an awful, poisonous guilt coated my insides. All those half-mortals Luther had saved...

“You have no idea the chain of fate you’ve set in motion.” She smiled, but there was only anger and sadness in its curves. “Every life he takes now is on your hands. No wound I inflict will bleed you worse than that.”

My eyes squeezed shut. My cowardly heart was desperate to run from the truth of her words.

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