Page 42 of Heat of the Everflame

“They won’t kill me. I can’t say the same for the three of you, and I will not spend another night wondering if the people I care about are dead.” I steadied myself and raised my chin. “We stay together.”

“Perhaps she’s right,” Alixe said hesitantly. “Without our magic, we may fare better if we keep our numbers strong.”

I gave a sharp nod and set off for the woods. “Good. It’s decided.”

“Diem,” Luther growled, reaching for my arm.

“That’s a command from your Queen,” I snapped.

He worked his jaw, his grip tightening around me. Obedience to the Crown—tome—ran as deeply in his blood as Sorae’s, but unlike my gryvern, Luther could defy me. He just hadn’t done it yet.

“Um, cousins?” Taran started, frowning over my shoulder. “Maybe we should—”

“I found them!” a voice shouted. “Over here!”

A line of dark figures emerged from the firelit haze, silhouetted swords and crossbows dangling from their hands. I knew without looking that Luther was about to toss me over the saddle and send the horse galloping into the woods, so I moved before he got the chance.

I ripped my arm from his grasp and bolted into the forest, away from the campsite, sheathing my broadsword as I wove my way through the trees. I didn’t dare glance back, trusting in the others to follow me, but the thunder of too many footsteps warned me we weren’t alone.

The forest canopy blotted out the moon, making it nearly impossible to avoid anything more than the largest of trees. Lowbranches and hanging vines smacked across my face while my feet stumbled over tangled roots and fallen logs. Too frequently I found myself tripping and sprawling onto the ground, but each time, a firm hand grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back up.

Every now and then an arrow would whistle through the air, and my heart would hold its breath. At each crack of an arrowhead splitting through wood, my tension eased, but every so often I heard a softer sound—a wetthunkthat I could not distinguish as soil or flesh—and my soul would scream with fear at what price might be paid before this night ended.

We ran without ceasing, pushing our bodies to our limits. We ran so long that I lost any sense of time or location, ran so hard that my aching limbs turned from throbbing to numb.

We were outnumbered and outmatched. The Guardians lived among these trees, they knew them like old friends. There was no telling what secrets the forest held that might spell our doom. Any minute, we might run directly into a new rebel camp, tumble into an unexpected ravine, or find ourselves trapped by an uncrossable river.

Only one factor weighed in our favor: they were mortal, and we were Descended. And not just any Descended—warriorDescended.

Well... three warriors, at least, and whatever strange mortal-raised, Crown-wearing, grey-eyedthingI could claim to be.

After what felt like a lifetime, the footsteps behind us thinned out, then fell distant, then turned to silence. We kept going nevertheless, continuing on for what might have been minutes or hours, until our pace slowed and it was no longer roots or rocks but our own fatigue causing us to stumble.

“Cousins—here,” Alixe’s voice hissed nearby.

A hand reached out of the darkness and slid into mine, jerking me toward a massive tree whose ropelike roots stretchedten feet in all directions. A wide crack in its side gave way to a hollow center large enough for the four of us to slip inside.

Luther pulled me to one side of the opening. He pressed his body against mine, crushing me into the rough wall, then gestured for Taran and Alixe to take the opposite side. Uncomfortable as it was, it concealed us well within the trunk’s inner shadows and out of sight from any passing Guardians that might glance inside.

“We’ll wait here to see if they catch up,” Luther whispered. Taran and Alixe murmured in agreement.

I set my head against his shoulder as we both fought to catch our breath. Our chests heaved in rapid rhythm until they fell in sync, rising and falling together as adrenaline gave way to tentative relief. His hands flattened against the bark on either side of me, a cage of the most exhilarating creation.

There was barely any light in the forest and none at all within the hollow of the tree. Blanketed in darkness, my palms glided over his arms, his chest, his shoulders, blindly searching for any sign of a wound.

“Were you hurt?” I asked. “The godstone—did any of it...?” I couldn’t bear to finish.

He hesitated. Every second he didn’t answer was an endless, torturous nightmare.

“I took a few cuts,” he said finally, my heart stilling in my chest, “but none from godstone.”

Had he not been pinning me upright with the force of his body, I might have collapsed. I threw my arms around his waist, clawing my fingers into his back and wishing I could somehow pull him even closer still.

His hands pressed to my face, gently tilting it up. I felt the press of his forehead and the brush of his nose. His hot breath rolled in like a summer storm across my skin.

“And you?” His lips grazed mine as he spoke. “When I last saw you, your body... your wounds...”

“Nothing serious,” I rushed out. “Already healed.”

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