Page 10 of Heat of the Everflame

“Lumnos,” the Arboros Queen screamed. “Behind you!”

I twisted around. The last thing I saw was a pair of thin brown eyes, smoldering with hatred, and the blur of a swinging club.

Chapter

Three

Iawoke with a groan and a headache from hell.

My eyelids flickered open to a star-flecked midnight sky. The drooping eye of the pale crescent moon gazed down at me with bland curiosity, leaving me with the feeling she was distinctly unimpressed.

I reached to rub at the sore spot near my temple, but my arm could barely move. In fact, almost none of me could move.

The Guardians had chained me up again, this time in a broad, grassy meadow with a single tree at its center. The trunk was massive, at least three times the width of the tree I’d nearly uprooted before, with tangled roots as thick as my thigh. A pair of shackles had been added to my ankles, and several heavy new chains were latched to each set of cuffs with barely enough slack to allow me to sit up.

Even with my Descended strength, there would be no escaping this.

Though there wasn’t a soul in sight—including the Arboros Queen, I realized with sinking dread—I knew from the faint hum of voices and the smoky scent of a campfire that the Guardians weren’t far away, and I was all but certain the wall of treescircling the clearing concealed archers ready to take me down if I somehow managed to get free.

I managed to gingerly press a hand to the wound on my head and sucked in air as soreness lanced across my scalp. It hurt like mad, but the ache was dull and widespread, the swelling only mild. It felt like it had been healing for days rather than hours.

It seemed the flameroot hadn’t stopped my swift Descended healing. If I could avoid their godstone weapons, I might actually make it out of this place alive.

The sound of footsteps stole my attention. On the far side of the meadow, the lean form of a man emerged from the shadows.

My muscles tensed as his lanky silhouette sauntered closer. As my eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, a gasp burst from my lips.

“Brecke?” I called out.

A cautious smile peeked through the overgrown mess of his beard. “You know, when I told Henri Albanon to make sure he held on to you, this wasn’t the method I had in mind.”

I choked out a laugh, the warmth in his tone having an unexpected impact. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to know there was at least one person here who wasn’t itching to kill me at the first opportunity.

He crouched in front of me and set down a tray with a bowl of stew and a mug full of steaming liquid. His hair had grown out, no longer shorn in the tight military style now that he’d abandoned his post as a bladesmith in the Emarion Army. It added a roughshod gravitas to his deceivingly youthful features.

His eyes rose to my Crown, its bright glow curiously unaffected by the flameroot. “Your situation has much changed since I last saw you, Diem Bellator.”

I smiled grimly and jostled the chains binding my arms. “In more ways than one.”

“I should have taken you up on the offer to test you for Descended skin when I met you in Fortos.”

“I didn’t know, Brecke. I swear it.”

“I know.” He sat on the patch of soil beside me. “I spoke to Henri just before the attack. He told me Auralie lied to you.”

I stiffened. “Henri was on the island?”

Brecke nodded. “He asked me to keep an eye on you once the attack began.”

Guilt weighed on my chest. I hadn’t given Henri much more than a passing thought since regaining consciousness. My thoughts had been focused on my mother—and on Luther.

“Did he...” I swallowed. “Is—is he...?”

“Alive and well.” Brecke gave me a bright smile, misreading my inner turmoil as mere concern. “He and the other Lumnos Guardians rushed home to avoid provoking suspicion. Only Vance stayed behind.”

I let out a long, relieved sigh. Though my complicated feelings for Henri had become painful in a way I was still coming to terms with, he was my oldest friend. His life would always be precious to me—even if, soon, he might not want me in it ever again.

Brecke’s grin widened. “I hear you two are getting married. A Descended Queen marrying a Guardian—that wedding will have one hell of a guest list.” He nudged my leg with his knee. “Think I’ll make the cut? I’m not above begging.”

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