Page 24 of Heat of the Everflame

“Did you kill them?” I hissed.

“No,” she admitted. “Our bolt missed, and they both got away.”

My head fell back against the log, relief overwhelming my senses. I still couldn’t be certain Luther was safe. I’d watchedtwo arrows pierce his flesh—if either of them were godstone, he could be dead already.

But there was hope. And hope was worth cherishing until the very last breath.

“Drink, Diem.”

My hands steadied with a bit of renewed strength, and I took the flask and began to drink.

As I did, I stole a few glances at my new surroundings. There were tents in every direction and a ring of stones that I presumed to be a sparring circle. A large campfire burned nearby, and a row of firepits held bubbling pots and skewers of small game roasting on spits. The air was full of voices talking, weapons clanking, and the general sounds of life. A handful of Guardians stood around me, but countless more milled about in the background, their brown eyes casting furtive, hate-filled glances my way as they passed.

Mercifully, I was no longer naked, now dressed in plain mortal garb. The simple leather breeches and linen tunic were so similar to the clothes I’d worn every day before becoming Queen. The familiarity of it was unexpectedly comforting—a reminder of who I was and what I was fighting for.

They had moved me deeper into the forest, the meadow nowhere in sight. The vegetation was far denser and overgrown, shrouded from any spying gryverns that might fly overhead and likely far enough from any road so we wouldn’t be stumbled on by hunters or passing travelers.

The perfect location for a rebel settlement.

When I’d emptied the flask, Cordellia clasped her hands together and leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees. “You used your magic. That wasn’t supposed to be possible.”

“I’m full of unexpected surprises,” I said dryly.

Like still being alive, I thought to myself.

“We found several days’ worth of food buried in holes at the tree you were chained to.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m guessing that soil has been watered with a few mugs of flameroot tea, as well?”

I glared at her in response.

She chuckled softly. “You’re definitely Auralie’s daughter.”

The comment flooded me with a jumble of pride, anger, resentment, and worry, a reflection of the complicated feelings I’d developed toward my mother during her long absence.

Cordellia waved over a woman who stood nearby with a large burlap pouch.

The woman held the satchel to her chest in obvious reluctance to turn it over. “With all due respect Mother Dell, she wasted food our people needed. Our stocks are hard enough to maintain. If she wants to starve herself, we should let her.”

The others murmured their agreement.

Cordellia gave me a heavy stare that said she wasn’t entirely opposed, then shook her head and looked up at the mortals. “This woman assisted with the attack on the island, and a mission she helped with in Lumnos is the reason many of you have fine Descended weapons right now.”

I flinched at her description. I didn’t want credit for either attack, and had I known the whole truth, I wouldn’t have gone along with any of it—but I supposed now wasn’t the time for semantics.

“She’s also a Descended Queen who can give Guardians safe harbor in her realm,” Cordellia continued. “Shall we let her die for spite, or shall we remember our mission and do everything we can to save the lives of our people?”

The woman’s face flushed. “Yes, of course, Mother Dell. Anything for our people.” She shot me a fleeting scowl and chucked the sack at my feet, then spun on her heel and walked off.

“Thankssomuch, Sister,” I called out to her with exaggerated sweetness. The woman responded with a middle finger raised over her shoulder that had me unexpectedly smirking. “I like her.”

“I don’t think the feeling is mutual,” Cordellia muttered.

I grabbed the pouch and opened it to find a loaf of hard bread along with several strips of dried meat. It was cold, simple fare, but after nearly a week without eating, even a plate of boot leather would have had my mouth watering. I raised the pouch to my nose, pleased to find no trace of the flameroot’s distinctive odor. My stomach growled its approval, and I tore into the food with a fervor that was borderline embarrassing.

“No more drugged food?” I asked between bites.

“No. But from now on, I’m going to sit and personally watch while you drink each dose. You’re a little old to need a nursemaid, but apparently, I have no choice.”

“Looking forward to it. Feel free to take up my bad manners with my mother when you see her.”

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