Page 60 of Heat of the Everflame

Giving in to your emotions is the fastest way to lose a battle, he’d scolded.Your temper has always been your weakness.

I gritted my teeth and held my silence.

“But poor Henri insisted on standing by you. He swore you could be trusted. He thought your love for him could endure it all.” Vance shot me a simpering look. “Love can be such a deceitful thing.”

My stomach twisted with the heavy weight of guilt. Buried in Vance’s vitriol was a small kernel of truth. I had asked Henri to trust me, toloveme—and he had. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

“What do you want, Vance?”

“My arm back, to start,” he snapped.

“You’re lucky that’s all you lost. My gryvern would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened.”

“And if the gryvern hadn’t, I would have,” Luther rumbled.

“What I want,” Vance snarled, “is my homeland. I want the Descended to leave—or die. Preferably the latter.What I wantis for the mortals to rule over Emarion as we always should have.”

“You know I’m an ally to the mortals,” I protested. “We should be working together.”

“We tried working together. I inducted you as a Guardian. I let you work on the Benette armory attack, the missions at the palace, even the preparation for the invasion of Coeurîle. And how well did all that go?”

Taran’s back straightened. He frowned at me, surprised betrayal written on his features. I shot him a pleading look, silently begging his forgiveness. He shook his head and looked away.

Vance walked closer and tapped his blade on my cheek. “You say you want to help us, but when the blood starts flowing, you protectthem.”

“I won’t stand by while you kill innocent people, no matter what blood they have,” I said. “The mortals are my priority, but—”

“Your priority?” His brows jumped upward. “Really? A moment ago, it looked like yourprioritywas whoring yourself out to a Descended while your mortal betrothed waits at home for your return.”

“Oh shut up,” Taran groaned. “Get to the point old man, or let’s start stabbing each other already.”

Even in Taran’s banter, a hint of bitterness persisted. I tried to catch his eye, but still he refused to look at me.

“I’m trying to get back to Lumnos, Vance. You’re the one stopping me.” My eyes narrowed. “And stop pretending like you care about Henri. You’d happily sacrifice him—or any of these men—to spill a little Descended blood.”

I looked past Vance to the men in his cadre, glancing at each of them in turn. “You all have every right to be angry with how the mortals have been mistreated. I understand your rage, and I swear to you, I am with you in this fight. All three of us are.”

I gestured to Luther and Taran, and Vance’s men eyed them with flagrant doubt. A few of their weapons lowered ever so slightly.

I pointed accusingly at Vance. “This man doesn’t care if any of you live or die, as long as he gets his war. I’m trying to find a better way. I don’t want one more drop of mortal blood spilled.”

Vance let out a vicious laugh. “Tell that to the dead mortal you ran through with your sword.”

I flinched. Any ground I had won with the men instantly eroded away as they nodded and murmured, their features hardening.

“That... that was an accident,” I stammered. “I didn’t want... I—I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I’m sure that will be a great comfort to his family.” He turned to one of the men near Taran. “Tell me, Soritt, does it ease your grief to know your brother’s murderer ‘didn’t mean to hurt him’?”

The man’s knuckles whitened where he gripped his spear. He glowered at me and spat. “Hell no, it doesn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said to him, shaking my head. “I never wanted that to happen. He was going to hurt my friend, and I—”

“Hurt your friend?” the man hissed. “Like this?” He jabbed his spear forward—straight into Taran’s ribs.

I screamed in horror as the glittering black point lodged in Taran’s flesh. His eyes went wide, his face going slack with shock.

I ran for him, but Vance stepped in my way. “Watch it,” he warned. “Or your otherfriendgets the same treatment.”

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