Page 361 of Heat of the Everflame

I gripped his face to make him meet my stare. “Run away, Vance.Leave this realm, and don’t ever come back,” I said, lacing the command with Umbros magic. “And stop helping Ophiucae.”

It was unfortunately impermanent—short of erasing Vance’s mind completely, the compulsion of my order would fade in a few days. Hopefully by then, he would decide to heed my warnings.

If not, as least Sophos would be ready for the next attack.

Vance’s eyes went vacant. He scrambled to his feet, then set off in a rush for the Ring Road. I pulled a shield around him and used my wind to push back a few Descended who lunged forward to take justice into their own hands.

Angry mutters rumbled around me. If anyone still believed I was secretly involved in the attack, this would pour kerosene on the fire.

I didn’t dare look at Luther and risk seeing his disappointment that I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough to make the bloodier call. He’d risked his life to capture Vance, and I’d just let him go.

As Vance faded to a speck into the grasslands, my brow furrowed. The repetitive rhythm of his fleeing footsteps seemed to be growing louderand nearer, not further away.

Far too late, I understood why.

“Gryvern!” someone yelled.

The guards shouted and ran for cover, shields flickering back into place, as Luther pulled his sword and moved to my side.

“Wait,” I said, squinting at the approaching form. “That’s Doriel’s gryvern.”

Vexes let out a weak, exhausted mewl. At the last moment, its wings gave out, falling limply at its side as it crashed into the street.

The earth rumbled at the gryvern’s impact, its two Descended riders tumbling to the ground. The first, thank the gods, was Doriel, bruised but otherwise unhurt. The second was a woman—unconscious, badly wounded, magic depleted—but fortunately alive. As I mended her with healing magic, her eyes cracked open to reveal two blue-green Meros irises.

The Faunos Descended who had gone with them was nowhere to be found.

I put another hand on Vexes to heal its wounds, then turned to Doriel. “What happened?”

They crouched at their gryvern’s side and pulled its head into their lap, stroking along its muzzle. “Your plan was working. Then he got through my shield and knocked Brion off. We tried to get to him...” Doriel shuddered and fell quiet. Behind them, the Meros woman burst into tears.

An all-too-familiar guilt lodged in my chest.

More blood on my hands.

More corpses at my feet.

“Did Ophiucae return to Montios?” Luther asked.

Doriel’s face was grave as they shook their head, their blush-colored eyes rising slowly to the sky.

My throat began to tingle.

In the distance, another gryvern approached, the man on its back a twinkling star among the clouds. His aura was far weaker than before, but even depleted, his power was staggering.

A heartbeat thundered in my ears as he drew closer. I wasn’t sure whether it was mine orhis.

Ophiucae slowed his pace, his gryvern swooping low. Its claws clicked against the pavestones as it strolled smoothly into a landing on the street.

I strolled forward and raised a shield at my back to wall off the city’s guards and residents, though I left myself exposed.

“Diem,” Luther warned.

I silently shook my head.

Ophiucae’s smoke-dark gaze narrowed on Doriel and Vexes, then moved back to me. “Get out of my way.”

I lifted my chin. I had to fight all my instincts—and the eager thrum of the golden hilt in my hands—to stop myself from raising my sword.

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