Page 72 of Heat of the Everflame

He walked back to his gryvern, staring into its golden eyes. “Can you sense them?”

The beast didn’t react, though I knew firsthand the communication between a Crown and their gryvern went beyond words or gestures.

Whatever response he received, the King nodded curtly. “Good. Where are they?”

After a moment, his lip curled into a sneer. “Nearbyis not helpful, Tybold. Take me to them.”

The gryvern gave an indignant-sounding snort and flicked its tail into the sand.

“If you can’t find where they’re hiding, what good are you to me?” the King growled. “Tell me why they’re in my realm.”

Tybold’s feathered wings puffed outward, then snapped in against its body. Its reptilian head shrunk back as if in anticipation.

“I don’t care that they don’t wish to hurt me,Iwish to hurtthem,” the King roared. “Why are they here?” He slammed his fist into the soft, fleshy patch beneath the gryvern’s mouth. “I command you toanswer me!”

Trickles of blood dribbled from the beast’s jaw, the same sensitive place my Sorae so dearly loved to be scratched. The gryvern hissed its fury, baring rows of vicious fangs. A ball of dragonfyre erupted from its throat with an enraged snarl, shooting across the sand before evaporating into smoke.

“Worthless creature,” the King muttered. On each finger of his hand, the sharp spikes protruding from his metal rings were coated in red.

I ground my teeth together to keep from launching myself out into the open. “Gryverns read intentions, asshole, not minds,” I mumbled.

The gryvern went preternaturally still. Its ochre pupils slid in a slow arc toward our pen and stopped.

Shit.

Chapter

Seventeen

In my outburst, I’d overlooked one crucial fact—gryverns had hypersensitive hearing.

I stared through the slats, knowing with certainty Tybold had found us.

My foolish, stupid temper. I’d given us away and possibly cost us everything. Perhaps I could throw myself at the King’s feet, swear that I’d come alone, and beg for his mercy.

My stare shot back and forth between man and beast, waiting for the moment of reckoning—but when the King turned and walked toward the city, the gryvern only sat, tilting its head, watching me in silence.

Twin flames grew from the center of the King’s palms, then twined around his fingers. They swirled and expanded until his skin glowed red and fire consumed his arms from the elbows down. With a snap of his wrist, an ember jumped to his forehead and seemed to catch alight, igniting the fiery Crown above his head.

“Where are you, Lumnos?” the King said, his voice low and menacing. “If you will not come out on your own, you leave me no choice.”

He thrust a hand out, sending a churning ball of fire shooting for a small granary. It exploded into an inferno that swelled through the inside and up to its thatched roof, turning it to cinders in a matter of seconds.

He flung his other arm toward a merchant’s kiosk next, and a red-hot spear sliced through the air. It lodged into the canvas walls, sending them curling and blackening as the fire consumed it whole.

“Surely you desire a better fate than to burn alive?” the King taunted. “Think of your poor family. They’ll never know how you died. They won’t even have a body to bury.”

His words stung more than he could possibly know. It wasn’t death I feared, but the prospect of abandoning my mother to her fate in a Fortos prison and leaving my little brother with yet another family member whose loss he couldn’t explain.

The air filled with the stench of smoke and char as the King continued his fiery pursuit. Structure after structure disappeared beneath crackling flame, the city lighting up in a series of impromptu bonfires.

My thrashing heart roasted alongside them. What if Taran and Luther were inside one of those buildings? What if the man I cherished burned for my cowardice?

I looked to Alixe, my defeat written plainly on my face. She shook her head. “Wait,” she mouthed.

I spied between the slats. The gryvern was still staring at our hideaway, its scaly head cocked to one side.

With a twitch of his fingers, the King’s blaze stretched its fiery arms toward a collection of nearby wooden carts, turning them into instant kindling. The fire was so close I could feel its heat through the planks concealing us from sight.

---