Page 402 of Heat of the Everflame

Maybe thiswasfor the best. I didn’t want to kill Ophiucae—at least now, I wouldn’t have to. And if my magic was gone, my enemies would lose their interest. My family would be safe. Luther and I could have our quiet life of irrelevance.

Isn’t that what I claimed to want, to run away and leave all my problems behind?

A deep, sorrowful ache settled in my chest.

I sliced my palm before the regret could spread any further. The stones on the ritual dagger flashed a steely grey, but this time, there was no thunder, no earthquake, only the hiss of bubbling blood as it fell and melted into the stone.

A glowing orb built within the heartstone’s center, illuminating its jagged, glassy peaks. A blinding pulse of light shot out in a ring and rippled over the planes of the island. My body flushed with energy as it passed over me, binding me to my fate.

“The spell is cast,” Doriel announced.

I tossed the bloody dagger at their feet. “Now get my brother off this island.”

“Not until you’re in the cell.”

“Doriel,” I snarled.

“In the cell, Diem.”

I looked out at the dark doorway in the brush. My throat squeezed shut, my lungs clawing for breath. A sudden overwhelming terror seemed to trap me, bury me, suffocate me in open air.

That cell had destroyed Ophiucae. It had turned his heart cold and gnawed at his soul until there was nothing left of it but a thirst for revenge.

And it would do the same to me. I could feel it—the hate that would fester in that lonely, unrelenting darkness.

The monster I would become.

“No,” I breathed. I was ashamed of the whimper that shuddered out and the tremble that overtook me, but I was powerless to stop either. “I—I won’t. I can’t.”

“Diem, you—”

“I don’t want to become like him, Doriel. Please.Please.”

Their glare broke, a glint of understanding in their eyes. They stole a look at the thin orange sliver of the setting sun. “You willstay in this Temple until everyone is off the island. If you don’t—”

I nodded frantically. “My brother, I know.”

“Give me your weapon.”

Shit. I would need that to hunt for food and build a shelter.

And to kill the other Crowns the second they came back to the island.

But more than that, I needed Teller to live.

I grabbed my dagger and threw it to the ground, then scrambled backward with my hands raised and a nervous eye on my brother’s guards.

Doriel grabbed the two blades and rushed out of the Temple. They set off in a run down the path toward their dock, their gryvern flying overhead and spraying flames to keep the rebels away. Their guards fell in behind them and dragged my kicking, screaming brother in their wake.

I heard a piercing whistle, and the wall of soldiers around the island began to retreat. The other Crowns had already fled for their boats, and the Meros gryvern was no longer in sight.

I ran to the edge of the dais. “Run!” I yelled at the Guardians. “You’re all in danger. You have to get off the island before the sun sets.”

They stared at each other, at me, at the sun, at the receding army, unsure what to believe. A few began to walk toward me, while others stubbornly held their ground.

“Head south,” I shouted, pointing for the Arboros port. “If you stay here, you’ll die—hurry!”

Slowly, they started for the southern coast. My heart thrashed at their tentative pace, too oblivious to the invisible threat chasing them, but my attention was stolen by sounds drifting from deep within the brush—grunts, shouting, and the clash of metal-on-metal.

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