Page 131 of Heat of the Everflame

I punched him hard in the side, drawing raucous laughter from Taran and stern looks of disapproval from onlookers who believed me to be attacking a defenseless little girl.

“You two do remember you’re supposed to be avoiding attention?” Zalaric scolded.

We were almost past the main hall when a flash of light flared up just as I passed. I stumbled, nearly knocking over a table of large glass jars. Inside each one, tiny fires danced in a spectrum of colors. They seemed to glow brighter the closer I came.

My focus caught on one containing a sapphire glow. As I reached for it, my fingertips brushed the smooth glass, and the flame arched to meet my touch. A calming burst of warmth shot through my arm.

I pulled back just as the proprietor turned to face us. “Hail, madam. You’ll not find anything like this in all the nine realms.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Bottled dragonfyre, pulled from the throats of the gryverns themselves. Got almost all nine of ‘em. Even...” His voice hushed. “Her Majesty’s own.”

He lifted the fabric draped over his table. Hidden beneath, barely visible, a line of jars contained whirling black flames.

“Used to have the full set,” he said proudly. “Sold the last of my Fortos stock a few years back. There’ll be no more where that came from, but I still have one left from the dead Montios beast.” He jerked his chin toward a sole jar in the center of his stash, where a pale lavender flame burned low and slow, little more than an inch in height.

My fingers twitched closer, pulled by some innate urge. I hesitated, hand hovering in midair.

“What do you use them for?”

“Whatever you like, madam. That’s none of my business.”

“How did you get them?”

He smirked. “That’s none ofyours.”

“It’s a ruse to scam the tourists,” Zalaric whispered in my ear. “A bit of oil set alight.”

I wasn’t so convinced. Something about them called to me, and I was finding it harder and harder to ignore the lonely violet flame burning quietly at the center.

Like the Fortos gryvern, the Montios gryvern had been killed centuries ago during the Blood War. If this truly was its dragonfyre, it might be the last existing remnant of the creature that once guarded the desolate mountain realm.

“You must be new to Umbros,” the man mused, a gleam in his eye. “You should know better than to ask about the provenance of items sold in the dark markets. That kind of mistake can get you killed.” He rocked on his heels. “Luckyyou only slipped up with me. I can be very forgetful—for my customers, of course.”

My magic stirred at the threat underlying his tone. Zalaric must have felt it in my aura, as he subtly edged away.

I pointed to the lilac flame. “How much for this one?”

“Ah, exquisite taste. For you, a special price.” He paused, sizing me up. “A thousand gold marks.”

I nearly choked. I’d never owned that much money in all my dayscombined.

I shook my head. “I don’t have—”

“Fifty,” Zalaric countered.

My face snapped to him in surprise.

The man scoffed. “Don’t insult me. It’s worth a hundred times that.”

“It’s only worth what someone’s willing to pay,” Zalaric shot back. “That gryvern’s been dead for centuries. If you haven’t sold it by now, it’s time for a discount.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Nine hundred, not a mark lower. This here’s the rarest item in the market. There won’t be another for sale ever again.”

“Until next month, when your stock has mysteriously replenished,” Zalaric muttered.

“Youdarecall me a liar?”

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