Page 162 of Heat of the Everflame

“‘A Crown holds no authority over other Crowns,’” I repeated. My mind reeled at this new possibility. I could go see my mother, speak to her, hold her in my arms—but I still had no idea how to get her free.

Yrselle sneered. “I never approved of this ‘vote of six’ rubbish. That’s a new creation, you know. Put into place years after the war, over my protests.”

Her fist slammed onto the table with a violentcrack, rattling me and half the dishes.

“There’s a reason it takes all nine Crowns to renew the Forging magic,” she hissed. “We act as one. That’s what the Kindred intended. Even a single dissent should stay our hands. These fools and their egos thought they knew better than the Kindred, and look where it got us. Look what’s happened! Look how much we’ll have to sacrifice now that—”

She stopped short, huffing angry breaths. She’d talked herself into a furor, the wildness of her gaze betraying the unpredictability Zalaric had warned of. Her mighty aura had a disturbingly unhinged energy, a bomb that might erupt in dragonfyre or daffodils.

She brushed her hair back with a shaky hand. “Well. We’ve lost sight ofmanythings the Kindred intended, haven’t we?”

I nodded to placate her, keeping as still as I could muster.

Her breathing steadied, and she picked up her teacup. “Lumnos is not the only one who speaks to her disciples, you know.” She raised the cup to her lips, watching me from beneath her dark lashes. “Blessed Father Umbros hasmuchto say about you.”

My fingers tightened around the arm of my chair. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Umbros... aKindred... a dead, super-powerful divine spirit... had spoken toYrselle... aboutme?

I sat up straighter. “The prophecy... is that how you—”

“I’ve answered enough questions. Now I have a few for you.” She shoved her chair back with a noisy screech, extending her hand. “Shall we discuss them on the balcony?”

It didn’t feel like a request, so I stiffly rose and took her hand. Her nails scraped lightly against my wrist as she led me to an outdoor terrace. Her gryvern was there, curled up and dozing, though it cracked one amber eye as we approached.

The balcony was lined with the flimsiest railing imaginable—swaths of ribbon draped between potted olive trees. I peered over the edge, spotting white, skull-shaped objects in a heap on the canyon floor, and I began to understand why.

“You and that Prince,” she began, stealing my attention back. She took my hands in hers. “You have plans for a new Emarion, don’t you?”

Oh, no.

My mouth went dry. “What? No, I—”

“Don’t bother lying, dear. Everything your Luther knows, I’ve already seen.”

Oh, no no no.

This was bad. This wassobad. Was this why she’d brought me here—to expose me and kill me?

Suddenly, the edge of the balcony was uncomfortably close. I looked around for an exit or a weapon. Could I resist, if she pushed me? Could I push her first?

A growl rolled from her gryvern’s throat.

“Careful, dear. Gryverns can sense intentions. And unlike that miserable Ignios beast, mine actually likes me.” She squeezed my hands. “You want to change the order of things in Emarion, yes?”

Slowly, I nodded.

“And these plans of yours... how dedicated are you to seeing them through?”

My lips pressed tight.

She stepped closer. “How far are you willing to go for them? How much will you sacrifice?”

“Whatever it takes,” I said. “I’ll die for them, if I must.”

She rolled her eyes. “That part’s easy. Anyone can die.” Her head shifted with a predatory tilt. “Can youkill?”

That question had been haunting me for weeks. Could I? I’d taken a life, but it had been accidental, a reflex of self-defense. Could I kill with purpose? Could Islaughter?

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