Page 148 of Heat of the Everflame

She sank into her throne and lounged against an armrest. The final rays of sunset gilded her in a wash of honeyed tones. Her legs crossed, exposing a smooth expanse of bare flesh that ran to her hip.

Her gaze settled on me. “Hello, Daughter of the Forgotten.”

I gave a subtle, but respectful, nod. “Hello, Umbros.”

“We’re not on Coeurîle, dear. You can call me Yrselle.” Her eyes flashed across the room. “But if I hear that name on anyone else’s tongue, I’ll feed it to my gryvern. Am I understood?”

Murmurs of “Yes, Your Majesty” rippled across the crowd.

I shifted my weight. “I apologize for my unannounced visit to your realm. After the attack—”

She waved her hand. “Yes, yes, I already know. Don’t bore me with details I’ve already plucked from your companions’ heads.”

“Then you know I did not come by choice. I’m only trying to get home.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She clicked her nails against the arm of her throne. “You’re in my realm. Your life is mine to take.”

My heart picked up speed. I flexed my fingers at my sides, conjuring gauntlets of shadow. “Ifyou can take it.”

Though already night-black, her eyes seemed to darken. The golds of sunset vanished as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, shifting the room to a palette of frosty twilight blues.

Careful, a feminine voice hummed in my mind.I cannot let a challenge go unanswered in front of my Centenaries.

My godhood snarled, begging to force her out, but I held myself back. For whatever reason, she was warning me. Guiding me.

“Or,” I said slowly, “perhaps I could offer you a... favor. In exchange for your mercy.”

Her smile stretched higher. “I might be open to that—if thefavoris sufficiently interesting.”

I studied her for a beat. This felt like a game of words, a delicate dance whose steps were ever-changing. “Is there something you had in mind?”

“In fact, there is. That discussion is best had over wine, don’t you think?”

She waved a hand, and everyone kneeling slumped as if they’d been hanging from a rope that finally snapped. I realized with a start that she’d been forcing themallto kneel, even her Centenaries—an unnecessary show of power, just to prove she could.

The Centenaries rose as one and began lighting candles and taking up posts around the room, save for Symond, who stood by the throne with arms crossed. Those carrying refreshments crowded around the dais, contorting in odd positions to ensure every delicacy was within arm’s reach of their Queen.

The most scantily dressed among them flocked to her side. Two sprawled at her feet, stroking the lines of her legs. Another perched on the throne’s arm and combed her fingers through Yrselle’s hair. One particularly beefy man even wedged himself beneath her so she was sitting on his lap—a visibly aroused, very well-endowed lap.

Zalaric and the Corbois rose as well, the latter joining my side. Though Zalaric held his head high with his usual composure, I felt a pang of sympathy. He was alone in enemy territory, no ally in sight—just as he had been as a boy all those years ago.

A Centenary approached with a tray of wine. Taran, Zalaric and I accepted, while Luther and Alixe declined.

I studied the goblet, noting the way a pewter dragon twined its way up the stem. “Is a dragon your sigil? I’ve noticed them throughout your palace.”

“Very perceptive,” she said. “Did you know dragons feel every piece of gold in their hoard? If even a single one is taken, they know—and they take their repayment in blood.” She held my gaze as she sipped her wine. “I find thatinspiring.”

“They are fearsome creatures, though I confess, I don’t understand them. With as much power as they wield, what use does any dragon have for gold?” I swirled my goblet. “Or any Crown, for that matter?”

“Power takes many forms. Even among the Descended, strong magic will only get you so far. Isn’t that right, Zalaric?”

He dipped his chin. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Zalaric has always been one of my favorites. He understands the importance of collecting every last coin.”

Taran snorted softly, and the Queen’s smile fell. I shot him a look, eyes wide in warning.

“I’ve watched him grow up here, you know.” She leaned forward, her tone markedly colder. “After your people scarred him and threw him away, I welcomed him. Igave him a home.”

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