Page 27 of Heat of the Everflame

I clenched my jaw as frustration rose. “And what of the Descended man who came for me? Was he not innocent?”

“You mean Prince Luther?” Cordellia’s expression soured. “Oh yes, I know who he is. The late King’s favorite disciple, the man responsible for executing the half-mortal children. His apparent fondness for you does not erase his many crimes.”

I started to defend him, then my lips snapped shut. Luther’s secrets were his to share, not mine, and if my mother had not seen fit to tell Cordellia that she and Luther were working together to protect those children, perhaps there was a reason.

“The point,” I growled, “is that the royals may be spoiled, but most of them are no killers. There are only a few who deserve Vance’s brand of justice.”

In truth, I wasn’t sureanyof them did. Though I despised Garath and Remis for good reason, they’d known of my desires to protect the mortals, and they’d stood by me—begrudgingly, and out of self-interest, but they’d done it. I had not yet witnessed them turn their savagery on anyone but me, and I was not so petty that I was ready to see them butchered in their sleep for it. Not yet, anyway.

And Aemonn... I had seen both kindness and cruelty in him. His appointment by Remis as Keeper of the Laws put him at a crossroads between the hatefulness of his father and the good Ibelieved him capable of. I couldn’t be certain which path he was going to choose.

There were certainly Descended whose deaths would lose me no sleep—namely, the leaders of House Hanoverre—but among House Corbois, I could not fairly condemn any of them to execution at Vance’s hand.

I raised my chin higher. “I am the Queen of Lumnos. The Guardians may think me a fake queen on an unearned throne, but I take my duty to protect my people seriously. I have to get back before anyone is slaughtered—mortal or Descended.”

Cordellia gave me a sober look. “Even if doing so costs your mother her life?”

My shoulders sagged. I had no answer. I could only pray I wouldn’t be forced to make that choice.

Her eyes roved over me in solemn silence, and then she turned to walk away. “I’ll think on it.”

“Cordellia, please—”

“I said I’ll think on it,” she called out without stopping. “Vance is still recovering here, so for now, your people are safe. I only wish I could say the same for mine.”

Chapter

Seven

The next morning, we set off for a new camp.

The damage I’d done to my body must have been more severe than I thought, because even though Cordellia had allowed me fresh water, a hot meal, and even a bedroll for the night, I was still barely able to keep up with the mortals as we marched several hours through the wilderness.

It didn’t help that she insisted I be blindfolded. I assured her I had no way of communicating my location—the flameroot had severed my connection to Sorae—but my promises went unheard, and I was left to stumble aimlessly over every rock and fallen limb in our path.

I had some idea of where we might be. The sound of distant waves and seagulls hinted that a coastline was nearby. Despite the winter season, the air was getting warmer and drier, suggesting we were closer to the desert climate of Ignios, Realm of Sand and Flame, rather than the humid jungles of Arboros’s western neighbor, Faunos, Realm of Beast and Brute.

Eventually we arrived, and the mortals set about rebuilding their makeshift city. My frequent offers to assist were either outright ignored or met with colorful descriptions of where exactly I could shove my help.

The mortals were efficient, leading me to suspect moving was a frequent occurrence. By nightfall on the first day, the camp looked as if it had been there for weeks rather than hours.

Unlike the Guardians of Lumnos, these mortals had no lives outside of the rebel camp. They could not escape to the normalcy of a home shielded from their illicit rebellion, the way my mother had done for so many years. There were children and elderly here, entire family units living among the tents.

There would be no isolating any compromised members or mitigating the fallout. If their work here was discovered by the Descended, every last one of them was doomed.

I yearned to know more about what had brought them to this point. Arboros had a Mortal City of its own near the Ring Road—my mother and I had stayed there during our annual trips to Arboros’s massive medicinal herb market. So why had these mortals chosen to live a nomadic life hiding deep within the forest?

Were they fugitives like Brecke, wanted for crimes in other realms? Had they been run out of town by other mortals for fear the rebel efforts would bring the Descended’s wrath down on all their heads? Or perhaps they were true believers, dedicated enough to give over their entire lives to the cause.

If any of them had been willing to share their stories, Cordellia made sure they never got the chance. Over the next week that passed, two Guardians kept watch at all times, and their orders seemed to be keeping other mortals out as much as keeping me in.

My guards had little interest in talking—in fact, my interest only made them look at me with more suspicion. After a few days of one-sided efforts, I learned that if I pretended to sleep, they would eventually begin to chat. Following this discovery, I conveniently developed a mysterious case of narcolepsy that had me “napping” around the clock.

My persistence paid off late one night, when most of the mortals had gone to sleep and the camp was quiet. The man and woman guarding me turned from the usual camp gossip and Descended bashing to a discussion of Guardian activity in other realms.

“I hear the army hasn’t even tried to take back the island,” the man said. “They surrounded it with warships so we can’t get in or out, but they haven’t sent any soldiers to fight.”

“Those bastards and their long lives,” the woman answered. “They probably plan to wait it out and let the mortals on the island die of old age.”

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