Page 401 of Heat of the Everflame

“Sunset?Doriel, the sun’s nearly gone now. That’s not enough time!”

“Then you should stop interrupting me.”

“The Guardians don’t even have boats docked. They need at least a few days to send hawks.”

“There are army vessels at the Fortos port. If the rebels give up peacefully, they’ll be given safe passage to the prison.”

“That’s not—”

“Back to the ritual,” they said archly with a discussion-ending glare. “As I was saying...”

Bile rose in my throat. I’d walked the mortals straight into a trap. Either certain death on the island, or torture and imprisonment on the continent.

A throat softly cleared to my right.

My gaze lifted and met two sad emerald eyes. They darted to the Guardians, then cut over her slender shoulder—toward the Arboros port.

I didn’t dare show any reaction, but a gasp of relief left my lips at her offer. If I could get the rebels to the Arboros port, its Queen would get them to land.

“With this spell,” Doriel began, “we bind Diem Bellator to this island. May she never again leave these shores.”

A heavyclangresounded in my skull at the weight of those words, at their inescapable finality. There were no loopholes, no exceptions. There would be no rescue.

I was trapped.

Just like Ophiucae all those years ago.

“Furthermore,” Doriel continued, “from the setting of this day’s sun, may the heartstone strike dead any person who sets foot on this island, or any beast who flies over its borders, except for the nine Crowns of Emarion.”

“You’re even banning the gryverns?” I said bitterly.

“Well we can’t have yours attacking us when we come to the island for rituals, can we?”

“Right,” I muttered, looking up. “Only you and Meros get to do that.”

Their jaw twitched, but they didn’t respond.

I stared out at my brother through the wall of flames from the two circling gryverns, wishing with all my heart that I could push my thoughts into his head. An apology—so manyapologies. A promise to make this right somehow. And a plea for him to fight. To survive.

One by one, each Crown stepped forward to shed their blood, and I threw every ember of my hatred into my glare. I refused to look away from the uncertain resignation of Meros, the forlorn shame of Arboros, the jaded indifference of Faunos. Only Ignios would look me in the eyes, and only because he reveled in my fury.

When my turn arrived, Doriel laid down the ritual dagger on the pedestal and stepped out of my reach. I curled my upper lip and picked it up, but as I brought the blade to my palm, my body felt as if it were fighting against itself. My hands quivered, refusing to press the edge to flesh.

“The spell only works if the blood is given willingly,” Doriel reminded me. “If you can’t convince yourself you want to do this—”

“Then you’ll torture my innocent brother, a subject ofyourrealm, who you vowed to protect?” I gritted out. “Yes, I’m aware.”

They shifted on their feet, unable to meet my eyes. “We’ll need your brother to ensure your cooperation for future rituals, so keeping him safe will be my highest priority. He can do whatever he pleases in my realm. Full access. I’ll even put him on the selection committee for mortals invited to study, so he can address the inequities you spoke of. I’ll make sure his every need is taken care of.”

“How very generous. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with his golden shackles.”

They sighed. “I take no pleasure in this, Diem. I am genuinely grateful for what you did in my realm. Once Ophiucae is dead and your magic is lost to the bargain, we’ll recast the spell and let you go.”

“Ignios will never agree to release me.”

They dropped their voice. “Then we’ll get a new Ignios who will.”

Our gazes met. I looked for some sign of doubt in their eyes, but there was only the firm resolve of a ruler who believed this was the only way to save their realm.

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