Page 149 of Heat of the Everflame

Zalaric’s throat bobbed, his eyes dropping.

“You gave many a home,” I said. “Mortals, half-mortals, even Descended. An honorable thing, to open your arms when no oneelse will.” I lowered my chin deeply, hoping she saw the honesty in the gesture. “You have my gratitude—and my admiration.”

Mollified, she lounged back and shrugged. “Perhaps I should be thanking you. I could fill this room with the gold I’ve made off your exiles.” Her gaze drifted to Luther. “Or perhaps I should thank your handsome Prince.”

“I’ll thank him for you,” one of her attendants cooed, looking Luther over with a hungry gaze.

My eyes narrowed.

Yrselle smiled. “I don’t think the Lumnos Queen likes that suggestion. Best keep your distance, dear, or I’ll be down a Centenary.”

The attendant pouted. “But he doesn’t even want her.”

Heat rushed to my face, and hurt rushed to my heart. Luther glanced at me, and shame won out over pride as my eyes lowered to the ground.

Yrselle tutted. “Wantisn’t the problem, is it, Prince?”

Their stares met, and charged energy buzzed in the air between them. As the silence drew on and his nostrils flared, I wondered if she was speaking into his mind, as she had with me. The thought made me feel like a dragon watching someone touch their gold.

I cleared my throat loudly. “You spoke of a favor, Yrselle?”

“Ah, yes. The favor.”

She took a long drink, and her attendants’ hands began to roam. They wet their lips as their palms grazed hungrily over her bronzed skin, at times disappearing beneath the hem of her dress.

“You and I have a great deal to talk about,” she said, her voice taking on a husky lilt. “About you. About Emarion. About your parents.”

“My parents?” I straightened, stepping toward her. “What about them? What do you know?”

She arched her neck as the man beneath her ran his tongue along her throat. “I know more about them than they know about themselves.”

“How is that possible?” I took another step forward. Symond tensed.

The man beneath Yrselle shifted his hips. She closed her eyes and leaned back with a breathy sigh.

This was all gettingverydistracting.

“My mother—you know where she is?” I asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Is she...?” The words stuck in my throat, burning with the question I both did and didn’t want to ask. “Have the Crowns...?”

“Executed her?”

My hands trembled, and my wine goblet slipped and clattered to the floor.

If my mother was gone...

If I’d lost them both...

“She lives.” The Queen’s tone had softened. “As a prisoner of the Crowns, her execution requires a vote of six. Without mine, they have only five.”

I grabbed the edge of the dais and nearly collapsed with relief. Rustling, footsteps, and grunts rose around me.

“Take care, dear. If you come any closer, you’ll either have to die or join in on my fun.”

I looked up to see Centenaries surrounding me with weapons drawn. Symond was staring down from the dais, the point of his sword an inch from my nose. Behind me, the Corbois had been forced back down to their knees.

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