Page 359 of Heat of the Everflame

I was his. Wholly, inescapablyhis.

Losing him to the godstone had nearly broken me. Losing him now would leave nothing left of me but empty, blackened earth.

“Luther?” I called out, peering in the windows of buildings the mortals had breached. “Where are you?”

I couldn’tfeelhim, either. The air felt too thin, too empty. His magic had gone dark, either from distance or overuse.

Or another reason, my cruel thoughts reminded me.

“Luther, come back—I need you,” I yelled, my voice going shrill at the deeper meaning beneath my words. “Has anyone seen my Prince?”

Only shaking heads and apologetic murmurs answered me back.

I ran down the main thoroughfare, the tremor in my hands growing with every empty city block. My godhood fed on my terror, building to an unbearable pressure until my ribs felt like they might crack open just to give some relief. I shot a plume of shadows and sparks into the sky, remembering how he had called me back to him when I’d gone flying in Montios.

I just hoped Luther was the only person my beacon would lure.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, and still, no sign of him came. I shouted his name louder, shriller, my voice increasingly fraught. Though the Sophos guards joined in my search, loaded stares flew behind my back when they thought I wasn’t watching.

Maybe he’s barricaded in somewhere, I told myself.Or he’s guarding a group of people until it’s safe. Or tending wounded guards until they can heal.

Or maybe he needs help. Maybe he’s bleeding to death alone because youcan’t find him.

Maybe you’re already too late.

“Luther?!” I screamed.

Everything about me grew wild and desperate—my voice, my eyes, my heart. The corners of my vision darkened, the gods tightening their fists around my neck. I began gasping, heaving for air.

“Luther,please, come back to m—”

“I’m here, my Queen.”

His aura brushed against me a second before he turned a corner and came into view, dragging a body behind him using his shadow magic like a rope—and grinning with an ear-to-ear smirk.

“Where in the glaciers of hell have you been?” I snarled.

He slowed, his smile dropping at the fire in my eyes. “I went after a mortal who got away. It seemed like you had things handled here.”

“Ididn’t.” My voice cracked—like a whip, not a glass—pumped full of fury to cover up the fear. “I needed you. You should have been here.”

A deep crease formed between his brows. His gaze fell to my hand, and he stilled. “Where did you get that?”

I stared down at the sword Stuart had brought me. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even looked at it until now. The broadsword bore a gilded, finely carved handle and a glittering onyx blade as wide as my thigh that had been inlaid with golden scrollwork.

It was a true piece of art—and it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it.

“By the Flames,” I breathed, “it’s the sword from our vision. The one I was holding on the battlefield.”

I lifted it to study more closely. The delicate filigree on the blade seemed like a pattern—almost like words, though not in any language I recognized. The swirls and lines wove around a glassy disc embedded in the center, so dark it was nearly black yet radiating a smoky internal glow.

“Where did it come from?” Luther asked.

“The archives. The guards said it belonged to the Kindred.” Its energy warmed my skin as the blade pulsed with a soft, silvery glow.

“I think it’s meant to belong to you now.”

I frowned. It did feel likeminein a way I couldn’t explain. The thought of letting it go had my instincts hissing in protest.

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