Page 287 of Heat of the Everflame

The hallway where I’d fought the King was silent, save for the crackle of the dying fire and the occasional rustle of soil falling from the hole I’d left. The column of light cascading from its opening seemed almost heavenly—the gods smiling down on what I’d done, giving their blessing to the slaughter.

My muscles stiffened. I turned and kept walking.

“I thought we were going to escape through the hole?” my mother asked.

“We are.”

“Then where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Diem, this isn’t like the games you and Teller played as children. This is real. Lives are at stake.”

My jaws ached from the force of holding back.

Some days it felt like there wasn’t a soul in all of Emarion whose life didn’t hang on my success or failure. It was a constant punctuation to every thought, a weight dragging down the corners of every smile.

“Diem.” She snatched my arm. “Sweetheart, this is serious.”

“You think she doesn’t know that?” Luther said testily. “Have some faith in the woman you raised.”

I could have thrown him on the floor and taken him, right there and then.

She balked at him. “You’re fine with this?”

“Of course. She is my Queen.”

“You never had trouble disobeying your Crown before.” A hint of accusation rang in her tone.

“Diem is not Ulther.” His hand brushed mine. “Formanyreasons.”

We reached the corridor I’d been searching for, and I turned to face him. “Stay here with them?”

He frowned. “I have no weapons or magic. There’s not much I can do if soldiers come.”

I let out a resigned sigh. “About that...”

My eyes fell closed. My godhood arched its neck curiously as I retreated within. I passed it by, to its dismay, along with the hidden Crown glowing in my soul like a candelabra in a pitch-dark room.

I wondered if I’d find it—part of me hoped I didn’t—and yet it rose right to my grasp, somehow knowing my intent before I’d even asked.

The Forging magic.

That buzzing, tingling energy imbued within the soil that wove the Kindred’s magic throughout the continent, enforcing the terms of their Forging spell.

I’d only used it once, just before my Ascension Ball. Its edges had been so clear that night, a current flowing to the realm’s borders, both land and sea. Its magic was pure, a seemingly infinite well, flowing smooth and rich across the realm.

This time, it felt very different—like an overworn blanket, edges frayed to threads, littered with rips and unraveling seams that allowed frosty air to sneak beneath and taint its warmth. And its reach didn’t stop at the Fortos borders. It stretched on, into Lumnos and beyond.

However, one thing felt very much the same: This magic was not for just anyone to see. Only its master. Only its Crown.

Onlyme.

The finality of it sank my head low. I searched and found Luther’s aura, trapped within a hard cocoon, and shattered it to bits. A tidal wave ofhimflowed free, and I welcomed its caress with bittersweet relief.

He sucked in a breath, eyes glowing with the sudden return of his magic. “It’s true, then. Youarethe Queen of Fortos.”

I swallowed, nodding, unable to keep the conflict off my face.

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