Page 338 of Heat of the Everflame

For starters, our horse was the only beast of burden in sight, and our casual, road-worn clothes were painfully out of fashion. Most residents wore smart, cleanly tailored suits in elegant fabrics, though the Descended penchant for excess came through in details like ballooning sleeves, oversized jeweled buttons, and overcoats that trailed like billowing capes.

We were also the only two people in sight that weren’t in a race to get where we were going. Our leisurely pace drewirritated looks from passersby who nearly bowled us over as they scurried past.

Though many foreign Descended and even mortals mixed among the crowds of pink-irised Sophos Descended, everywhere we walked, the rainbow of eyes lingered on us.

“It’s a good thing we’re not trying to hide,” I said. “I’m not sure we could stick out more if we tried.”

“It hardly matters. With your power, the Sophos Crown will have felt your presence by now.”

I frowned up at Luther. “Why didn’t you feel my presence in Lumnos before I became Queen?”

“I did. A few weeks before we met, I started to sense it—I assume that’s when you stopped taking the flameroot. I thought it was one of the younger cousins whose magic was beginning to manifest. I didn’t realize it was you until your last visit to the palace, when I noticed it got stronger every time you came around.”

I managed a weak smile despite my wearied state. “That explains why you got so handsy with me that day.”

He glowered. “More like jealousy. I saw that guard touch you, and I had to intervene before I liberated his spine from his flesh.” His hand roped around my hips. “And that would be a kindness compared to what I’d do if he tried it now.”

I wasn’t proud of the thrill that flushed through me at his violent words—but I wasn’t denying it, either.

“I wonder what those are.” I pointed to a row of mammoth structures on a hill. With their grand marble pediments and intricately carved wooden panels, the buildings looked ancient amid the shiny newness of the city.

Luther cocked his head. “They’re the old mortal institutions. I remember learning about them in school. The one on the left was a library, and the tall one was a university.”

I stared at a pile of fallen ruins between the buildings. Bits of words and etchings were visible on the larger stones. I could feel my newly enhanced brain cataloguing every letter and symbol, permanently recording them into my memory.

“What happened there?” I asked.

His muted glance warned me I wouldn’t like the answer. “It used to be a temple in the old mortal religions. The other buildings were kept in use, but that one was torn down for heresy.”

My fists clenched at the wasteful loss. “They taught that in the Descended schools? Why should your kind get to learn more about mortal history than we do? It’s not enough to ban us from practicing our faith, you have to hoard all knowledge of it for yourselves, too?”

He held his tongue, though muscles feathered along his jaw.

I sighed, forcing my temper down. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I have no more claim over the mortals than you do.”

“Yes, you do. Perhaps not by blood, but...” He gazed stormily at the temple. “You understand what it means to be mortal in a way I never will.”

There was a sadness hiding there that took me by surprise. It was hard to think of someone like Luther, who had been afforded every advantage, feeling like that same privilege had taken something valuable away.

But it had. Despite the Descended’s best efforts to squash it, the mortals had created a culture all our own—a vibrant one, full of music and art and rich storytelling, a close-knit community that loved and lost together, fought and died together. We found pockets of beauty and humor in our suffering, and when we couldn’t find them, wecreatedthem as both an act of defiance and an act of survival.

It was no coincidence that the Guardians referred to each other as Brothers and Sisters—the shared trauma of ouroppression had bonded the mortals in a familial way. We had our issues, as all families do, but I wouldn’t trade my years among them for all the privilege in the world.

“I hope you know how much I want to make things right for the mortals, too,” Luther said. “I do consider them my people, even if they do not.”

“I do.” I pulled his hand from my waist and laced my fingers with his. “When we get back to Lumnos, I want to show you around Mortal City. Introduce you to the people I grew up with.” I smiled wickedly. “Show you all the ways I got into trouble.”

His answering smile was genuinely eager. “I’d like that.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “You could build a house there, if you want. Perhaps somewhere near your family’s old home, so you can visit your father’s grave whenever you like.”

I froze in the middle of the walkway. Pedestrians swore at me under their breath as they darted past. “Don’t I have to live at the palace?”

“You’re the Crown. You don’thaveto do anything. The palace is useful for meetings and banquets, but there’s no reason you can’t live elsewhere.” His lips hooked up. “We could have our orchard and goats right here in Emarion.”

A flock of songbirds took flight in my chest, soaring and trilling their joy.

I leaned in closer. “We have more than one goat now? Our little family is growing fast.”

“Well, we can’t let our first goat be lonely. If we’ve found each other, Taran Junior needs his mate, too.”

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