Page 182 of Heat of the Everflame

“We’re leaving tomorrow, you know,” I said gently.

“The sooner the better,” he growled.

“Once we’re gone, you might never see him again.”

He stilled for a long moment, then resumed his violent bartending. “Fine. Good.Great.”

“He was only teasing you at dinner.” I arched my neck to catch his eye. “I think what you said really hurt him.”

“I doubt anything I said mattered to him. He only cares about himself.”

I laid a hand on his arm. “You know he helps Luther get the half-mortal children out of Lumnos?”

His movements slowed. “I know.”

“The Lumnos Descended at the inn—he saved them all. He provides shelter and training, and he gives them all the money from the inn. Does that seem like someone who only cares about himself?”

Conflict flickered over his features. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Zalaric burst into a fit of laughter with the Centenaries, two of whom had moved in close, their hands stroking his arm and back.

Taran scowled. “He doesn’t care what I think.” He waved a bottle at me. “Anyway, you’re one to talk. Were youtryingto hurt Luther with your answers?”

I recoiled back. “No. I—” I stopped, frowned, then sighed heavily. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.”

I took a drink and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste that chased the fiery alcohol down my throat. Somehow, it felt fitting. “It’s complicated, Taran.”

“Everything’s complicated with Lu. He never gets the luxury of a simple choice. Lives are always hanging on his shoulders. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“I do.” Guilt gnawed at the last remnant of my anger. “I do,” I said again, quieter.

“Judging from how mad you are and how miserable he looks, I can guess whatever happened must be his fault, and I’ll givehim hell for it if you want. But I’m certain of one thing.” Taran clamped a hand on my shoulder. “He would never hurt you on purpose. Never.Never.”

I took a shaky breath. “Taran, what if...” My voice dropped to a raw, vulnerable whisper. “What if he changed his mind? I know he cares for me, but what if it’s not... what if he doesn’t want—”

Taran straightened abruptly. “What are you, drunk?” He snatched the glass from my hand. “You’ve had too much. IfI’msaying that, you know it’s bad.”

“I’m serious, Taran. What if—”

“Did you huff one of those glittery powders they were handing out? Did the Queen do that mind-wipey thing where she turns your brain into mush?” He squinted at me. “She did, didn’t she?”

“Taran.”

“Have you already forgotten the Challenging? The compass? The way he looked when you almost died back in Ignios? ‘Cause I’llneverforget that. He held you like you were his own heart, ripped out of his damn chest and beating in his arms.” My eyes burned, and his fists clenched. “It was that shithead Symond, wasn’t it? He put this in your head. Where is he, I’m gonna—” He turned to the room with a growl.

“No!” I clutched his arm. “No fighting while drunk. That’s an order.”

He groaned. “Now you sound like Luther.”

“That probably means I’m right.”

“Come on, I’ve been wanting to kick that scrawny creep’s ass for days. It’ll be fun. Quick, you distract the Queen, then I’ll—”

“Looking for me?” Yrselle said smoothly.

Both our heads snapped to the side as she approached.

“Oh, no,” I rushed out. “We were only—”

---