Page 99 of Heat of the Everflame

“In Lumnos, maybe, but what about everywhere else?” I argued. “What power will I have in a place like this?”

My gaze dropped to my feet, and his hand stilled on my back. Again his voice took on that odd, whispered timbre. “Does she really not see it?”

I glanced back up. “See what?”

His brows jumped. “Did you—”

“Quit blocking my booth, will ya?” an irritated voice snapped.

An exceptionally short woman wedged herself between us, placing her hands on our thighs and shoving us apart. She grabbed a rag hanging from her shoulder and whipped it at Luther’s groin. “If yer wantin’ to feel her up, inns are over that way.” She gestured to a far corner, then paused. “Now if yer lookin’ to put on a public show...” She tugged on my cloak. “Lemme see your face girl, I may know a buyer.”

Luther growled and snatched me away, leaving the woman cackling behind us.

At the edge of the market, a row of lopsided signs pointed to different areas of the city, labeled by the items sold within:Gems, Weapons, Skin, Rooms, Boats—

“Luther, look—I think the docks are this way.”

“We’re not going to the docks yet. We need someone who doesn’t know who you are to book our passage in case they’re stopped by the Centenaries.”

The Centenaries.

A shiver rippled through me.

Umbros was a wild, lawless place, but one fundamental principle underpinned each and every clandestine arrangement:no matter who you were or what you sold, the Queen of Umbrosalwaysgot her cut.

And she did it with the help of the Centenaries.

After the Descended’s near-loss in the Blood War centuries ago, many realms set limits on Descended breeding in order to prevent their magic from becoming diluted and weak.

But none had gone as far as the Umbros Queen. She selected the one hundred most powerful of her Descended—the rest, she put to death. Over the years, she’d kept the number consistent, a small but formidable personal army known as the Centenaries.

According to rumor, if you were unlucky enough to cross them, your heart became ice and your skull became glass. Their staggering thought magic could read your mind like a book and bend you to their will.

It made them the perfect enforcers in a realm populated with liars and thieves. There was no secret the Centenaries couldn’t uncover, no deception they couldn’t detect. They collected their Queen’s share of the profits with perfect efficiency, and because she could readtheirminds, even they didn’t dare cross her.

Luther’s plan was clever. If the Centenaries found us, they would know instantly the Queen of Lumnos was here, but if the person who booked our passage did not know of my presence, even the Centenaries would not be able to pry it out from them.

Although...

A small, pestering urge told me the Umbros Queen might have the answers I sought. She had already taken a special interest in me, ambushing me with strange riddles in the alley the day my mother had gone missing. At my Rite of Coronation, she’d been the only one unsurprised by the destructive effect of my blood on the heartstone. In fact, it had almost seemed like she wasexpectingit.

Seeking her out would be an enormous gamble, but if she knew something that could help me in the coming war...

“This way,” Luther said. I kept close to his side as he led me out of the main hall and through the labyrinthine pathways. The buzz in my head began to die down, allowing my crowded thoughts some room to breathe.

“How do you know where to go?” I asked, rubbing my throbbing temples.

“I don’t. I’m following those.” He pointed to a spot high on the wall, where a sleek feline was carved into the rock, its long tail curled to the right. A fork appeared a few steps later, and Luther swiftly turned down the rightmost path.

“My contact here is known as the Jaguar,” he explained. “I don’t know much about him. We’ve only communicated through messenger hawks. We kept our identities secret in case either of us was caught. He said if I ever needed to find him in Umbros, his symbols would guide me there.”

Another etching came into view, its tail in a sharp line to the left. Again, we shifted our route.

“How did you meet him?”

“Your mother, actually. He worked with her to—look, I think that’s it.”

Straight ahead sat a cozy-looking inn lit by a curtain of floating blue orbs and a sign that read “The Second Chance.” Just above the entrance, a sleeping cat was engraved into the rock, its tail hanging lazily over the door.

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