Page 140 of Heat of the Everflame

“Ignios?” one cooed. “How fascinating.”

“A Guardian-loving Crown,” another laughed. “Now I’ve really seen it all.”

Another clicked her tongue. “Naked and begging, and he still didn’t want you.”

“Get out of my head,” I gritted out, my cheeks burning.

Symond surveyed my body, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “He’s a fool. I would never turn you away. But you already knew that.”

Just as he had at the Ascension Ball, he forced a wave of dirty, sinful, scandalousimages of the two of us into my mind. My skin tingled with the sensation of a hand drifting down my stomach and along the ridge of my hips. I sucked in a breath as I realized it was myownhand, moving of its own will—or rather, Symond’s will.

Fight, my godhood hissed.

I didn’t hesitate. The floodgates opened and a cascade of icy flame swirled around the corners of my mind, purging the intruding magic until I was alone in my own head. A silvery light haloed my skin and pulsed in the cave around me.

Several Centenaries staggered back in alarm, though Symond’s ominous smile curved higher. “Clever. Who taught you that trick?”

“You’ve learned enough from me already. But I do have more where that came from.” With a twitch of my wrist, a tangle of sizzling, white-hot whips unfurled around me, the crack of their snapping ends reverberating off the stone walls.

“Stop,” Zalaric pleaded from behind me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Symond said in a knowing, sing-song voice. “Those blades look terribly sharp.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What blades?”

“Diem.”

My head turned at Luther’s hard tone, my breath choking in my throat at the sight of Luther, Alixe, Taran, and the Cardinal holding their own knives against their necks.

Symond chuckled. “For their sake, I hope your magic is fast. Take care not to miss—a single thought from just one of us, and they all slit their throats.”

“Do it, Diem,” Luther gritted out. “Don’t worry about us. Kill them and run before more come.” He grimaced as his blade cut deeper, slicing through the fabric of his scarf. Trickles of red dripped down the front of his sweater.

“You hurt him, and I will slaughter every last Centenary,” I snarled at Symond. “And I don’t mean just the ones in this cave.”

My glowing whips lashed at the stone walls in warning. Rocks carved loose and clattered loudly across the cave floor.

Symond’s cold smile wavered, then tightened. “Come peacefully, and your friends will be spared.”

I glared. “You’ll let them go if I come with you?”

“Oh, no. They’re coming with us. Her Majesty wants to meet you all.” Symond shrugged lightly. “But I give my vow your friends will not be hurt, so long as they behave.”

I glanced at Zalaric, who was in the same psychic stranglehold as the others. He watched me with a clouded expression as the edge of his blade pushed against the pale scar along his throat.

“Can I trust them to keep their word?” I asked.

“It’sUmbros,” he said.

“Right—trust no one,” I muttered.

“Diem,” Luther warned, “don’t do th—” His words cut off in a strangled grunt, and panic seized me by the chest.

“Fine,” I blurted out. I waved a hand, and the whips dissolved into mist. “I’ll come. Just don’t hurt them.”

The others marched stiffly back to land and lined up at my side, their unnatural gait suggesting they still weren’t moving of their own accord. The Centenaries approached and felt them up with lascivious smiles as they snatched weapons from sheaths and baldrics.

Symond reached for the stolen Ignios dagger strapped across my breasts.

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