Page 56 of Heat of the Everflame

The weight of it hung in the air between us, its presence heady and thick. It surrounded me—holding me, comforting me, terrifying me, thrillingme. It was a living thing, whispering of a mighty force, almost like—

“Luther,” I gasped in realization. “Your magic.”

I’d been so distracted by my emotions I’d almost missed the return of his powerful aura, a trait only the strongest Descended could sense—but there it was now, hovering protectively around me like a warm, heavy cloak.

He looked down as twin cords of light and shadow wove into a knot around our joined hands. I sucked in a sharp breath at the brush of his magic across my skin, each caress thrumming with a crackling energy. A deep, rumbling hum reverberated in my ears, hinting at his boundless well of power—but somethingabout it felt stunted, almost unfinished, like a note missing its harmony.

“Impossible,” Luther said, frowning down at his own creation. “I shouldn’t have magic outside of Lumnos.”

“I thought I felt mine return last night,” Alixe said. “Before I could use it, it was gone again.”

We all gaped in captivated confusion as Luther’s magic twined its way up my arm. After a few moments, it wavered and vanished into mist, and the air again felt hollow, empty of his presence.

Luther’s brows furrowed tighter. “Perhaps it has something to do with being near the Crown.”

“I don’t think so,” Taran said. “When we passed through Faunos, my magic came back for a moment, too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Luther demanded.

“Do you not remember the journey here, cousin?” Taran shot him a look. “You were on the warpath. Alixe and I were doing our best just to stay out of your way.”

“You should have told me.”

“You weren’t interested inchatting. All you wanted to do was murder everyone and stare at that damn magic compass—”

“Taran,” Alixe hissed.

Luther stiffened.

Taran grimaced.

“Magic compass?” I asked.

Luther’s glare narrowed on Taran. His fingers crushed around mine, his shoulders pulled tight as a bowstring.

Taran’s eyes went wide.

Alixe sighed and tugged him to his feet. “Come, cousin. Let’s take a walk before you end up skewered over the fire next.”

They both avoided our eyes and backed away from the campsite, shuffling into the shadows of the surrounding woods.

“What wasthatabout?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Luther snapped.

His cold veneer slipped into place, his bearing turning stony and indifferent. I frowned as I studied his face. I was used to seeing this side of him around others, but not alone—not withme.

I slid my other hand along his jaw, brushing my fingers through the dark stubble that had begun to grow. Though he leaned into my touch, his features softening for the briefest moment, he resisted as I tried to nudge his face toward me.

“Luther,” I said gently.

I waited without pushing, sensing that some vulnerability had yanked him back behind his carefully built defenses. As much as I wanted to pull him out into the open, or at least tuck myself behind them at his side, I also knew this mask had grown out of tragedy and loss. Hiding his emotions had kept him and his loved ones alive in a dangerous world, and I couldn’t fault him for doing so again, when the danger was closer than ever.

I squeezed his hand in wordless support and laid my head on his shoulder. I felt his chest rise and fall in a deep sigh.

Finally, he spoke.

“I saw them take you on the island. Your mother had wounded me, so I couldn’t walk. But I tried—Blessed Kindred, Itried. I clawed my way through the dirt, screaming your name. Before I could get to you, a man came and carried you away.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Your body was so still. So terribly still.”

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