Page 105 of Heat of the Everflame

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a terrible outcome.” Luther balked, and I chewed on my lip, avoiding his eyes. “I think theUmbros Queen knows something about me. When I met her in Lumnos, she knew about the flameroot.”

“Your mother visited Umbros many times. One of the Centenaries must have read her mind and reported back to the Queen.”

“But she knew things even my mother couldn’t know. She called me ‘Daughter of the Forgotten.’ And at my coronation, before the Guardians attacked, something went wrong with the ritual. My blood... there was a stone, and it broke, and she... sheknew, somehow, she...” I saw his confused stare and huffed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t understand it, either. But you told me to trust my instincts, and they’re telling me to talk to her. Maybe we should delay going back to Lumnos and—”

“No.”

“I know you want to get back home, but if what she knows could help us, wouldn’t it be worth—”

“No.” The word came out of him like a snarl, so forceful it pushed me back a step. “The Crowns want you arrested. Even if the Queen doesn’t execute you for coming to her realm uninvited, she could turn you over to them. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not afraid of her—or the Crowns,” I insisted, not entirely honestly. “In a few days, my magic will be back to full strength. We can wait here until then.”

“You need to return to Lumnos.”

“I’ve been gone for weeks. What difference does it make to stay a few more days?”

“It makesall the difference!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the dark corners of the room. He seemed to grow in size as his muscles coiled with furious restraint, his features as sharp as the blade at his waist. “Your brother is worried sick—do you not care to see him? Do you not care what could be happening to the mortals under my father’s rule? Or the half-mortal children Aemonn could be slaughtering every day you’re gone?”

I flinched, my shoulders curling inward. Hurt pressed down on my chest and forced the air from my lungs. “Of course I do,” I whispered. “How can you ask me that?”

He lumbered over to a nearby armchair and hunched over it, knuckles white where he gripped its high back. His dark hair fell around his face, concealing his expression.

“I don’t—” He stopped himself to take a labored breath. “We don’t have enough time.”

“Until what?”

He didn’t answer.

“Enough time untilwhat, Luther?”

He raised his chin to look at me, his expression stricken. Everything about him—his slumped stance, his weary voice, his dull, lightless eyes—seemed utterly defeated.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

A frosty sense of dread skittered up my spine.

On the other side of the room, a muffled scratching interrupted the silence. A cloud of dust took flight as one of the bookshelves rattled, then swung out with a wobbly creak.

“What in Kindred’s name did you just do?” an angry voice called out.

The man from the front desk emerged into the room, glaring, arms crossed. His draped silks floated ethereally, unmoored by gravity, and I realized they weren’t fabric at all, but a gown of living shadow.

Luther’s demeanor changed instantly. He straightened and steeled his shoulders into a defensive stance, hands gripped on his weapons. The stony mask of the Prince fell into place and erased all trace of the agony pouring out of him moments ago. He stalked to position himself in front of me, looking fearsome and unstoppable.

“You trapped us in,” he barked.

“You destroyed my shield,” the man snapped back. “And you stole my magic.”

“Stole your magic?” I asked.

The man’s eyes moved to me and narrowed. Luther shifted to block me from his sight. “So you’re the Jaguar.”

“And you’re the Phoenix. Or should I call you the Prince?”

“The point of the codenames was to keep our identities concealed.”

The man gave him a strange look. “Did you think I would forget you?” Luther tensed, and the man’s eyebrows lifted. “I see. It’s you who forgot me.”

---