Page 132 of Heat of the Everflame

“We both know these don’t come from any gryverns. Give us a fair price.”

The merchant spat at his feet. “I should open one and make you stick your hand in. Then we’ll see if you doubt the power of my dragonfyre.”

“One hundred.”

The man waved him off. “Get out of my sight. I wouldn’t sell to you for any price.”

Zalaric rolled his eyes and tried to nudge me away, but I resisted, my gaze fixed on the lone jar at the center. My godhood hummed, equally intrigued.

“The Montios gryvern—what was its name?” I asked.

“Rymari,” the man answered gruffly. “She was the oldest of the gryverns, even though Montios was youngest of the Kindred. She was the most beautiful, too. Pure white from tongue to tail, with scales like opals. They say it never stops snowing in the place where she died.”

Zalaric leaned in to my ear. “You truly want it?”

I didn’t know how to answer.

My throat tightened watching the pale flame sway in its vessel. The other jars seemed to blaze with defiance, but this one was so small and weak, so dreadfullyalone.

Rise, thevoiceinside me hissed.

“Rise,” I echoed without thinking.

The flame fluttered, then sparked as if lit anew. It flourished to twice its size, then doubled again, then once more, leaving the jar blazing with a blinding violet light.

“Another trick,” Zalaric said under his breath, though he sounded significantly less certain.

The merchant reached for the jar. As his fingers skimmed the glass, a sizzling sound rose from his hand, and he jerked back with a swear.

“Looks like this one found the owner it wants,” he said, laughing nervously. He rubbed at his hand, his skin now blooming bright red. I realized with a start that his eyes were brown—a mortal.

I turned to Alixe. “How much gold can we spare?” I was surprised as anyone to hear the words come out of my mouth.

She handed over her pouch. “The three of us brought ten thousand marks each. We can pull more from House Corbois’s account, if needed.”

I closed my eyes briefly. The ease with which she talked about such staggering, life-altering wealth, the kind no mortal in Lumnos would ever know...

I forced my resentment away and dug into the pouch, grabbing well over a thousand marks and shoving it toward the man. “Here.”

Zalaric stepped in front of my hand. “At least let me negotiate a better price.”

“Why bother?” I asked. “I did nothing to earn this gold. I’d rather a mortal have it than House Corbois.”

Amazement darted over his face, then softened into something deeper, a complex understanding. He gave me a slow once-over as if meeting me anew.

I turned back to the merchant and handed him the coins, then reached for the jar. The man lunged to stop me.

“Madam, wait, you’ll burn yourse—”

He fell silent as I cradled the jar in my hands. Though the glass was cool to my touch, once again a warm, soothing tingle spread up my arms.

“It’s not too hot for you?” he asked. The beginnings of suspicion threaded through his voice. “Where did you say you’re from?”

“She didn’t,” Zalaric said firmly. He plucked another gold coin from the pouch in my hand and held it up. “We’re not from anywhere. And you never saw us, isn’t that right?”

The merchant smiled. “Of course. I forget all my best customers. It’s the Umbros way.” He took Zalaric’s coin and scurried around the table. “At least let me wrap it up for you.”

I clutched the jar to my chest, feeling strangely protective of it. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

---