Page 77 of Heat of the Everflame

I took a step back. He flinched, regret peppering his features.

He leaned his palms on the table and closed his eyes, hanging his head low. His shoulders rose up and down in a slowing pace until he spoke again, his voice quieter. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry—not with you. But you should not put yourself in danger like that. You are the Queen.”

“Yes, Luther, I am the Queen,” I clipped. “If I want to risk my life, that’s my decision to make. I’m sick of being treated like a flower to be fenced off from any stomping feet. That’s not who I am, and it’s not the kind of Queen I want to be. I’m not planning to sit on a throne and look pretty, I’m planning to fight. I thought you of all people understood that. I thought...” I swallowed. “I thought you believed in me.”

“I do,” he said, almost inaudibly. “I always will.” He took a slow, trembling breath, still refusing to meet my gaze. “I was supposed to be around to protect you.”

I grabbed a mortar and pestle from the kitchen. “Things are only going to get more dangerous for me, and it won’t stop when we’re back in Lumnos. The Guardians want me dead, the Twenty Houses want me dead. Maybe even the Crowns, too. Every day will be a new threat to my life. You can’t shield me from that, Luther. You won’t always be there to—”

Luther shoved off the table and pushed past Alixe and Taran, throwing the door open and disappearing into the street.

The three of us stood in silence and stared after him, the swinging door still creaking on its hinges.

Taran scratched his neck. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” I said firmly. Our narrowed eyes locked in a battle of wills. I pointed at a chair by the table. “Sit. Queen’s orders.”

He grumbled and slumped into the chair.

“Alixe, do you mind cooking the meat?” I asked. “We don’t have much time before we need to leave.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The cold formality in her tone wounded me, though I couldn’t fault her for it. Concealing my plans from her had been a show of distrust. It would take time to earn back the inroads we’d made as friends.

I’d known my choice would have consequences with all of them. I just hoped the payoff was worth it.

Alixe left, and I busied myself grinding the herbs I’d collected and mashing them into a paste.

“Tunic off,” I ordered to Taran.

He huffed and ripped his shirt over his head, stuffing it into a ball and flinging it across the room.

“Now remove your bandages.Gently.”

As he pulled away the bindings, I walked to a closet and grabbed a clean linen robe, then laid it out on the table and began cutting it into strips.

I shot him a glance. “I said gently, Taran, or you’ll make them wor—shit.” I sucked in a breath as my blade slipped and sliced through my palm. Bits of crimson blood dripped into my bowl.

“Wonderful,” I muttered. I hadn’t gathered enough of the herbs to waste them remaking the batch. I knotted a strip of linen around my cut, then did my best to scoop out the blood-tainted sections.

“This might hurt,” I warned as I pulled up a chair in front of Taran and began to spread the poultice across his wound. He gritted his teeth, staring straight ahead with no response.

Was this better than Alixe’s distance? Worse than Luther’s fury? Taran already felt like I’d betrayed him with the Guardians—what if this destroyed any chance at mending our bond?

I drooped at the thought as I took another handful and smoothed it over his inflamed skin.

“You did it for me, didn’t you?” he mumbled.

I looked up at him, but his gaze was still fixed in the distance, guarded and unhappy.

He jerked his chin toward the wound. “You did it because that’s getting worse.”

I grabbed a fresh batch of linen and packed it on top of the poultice, then wrapped it around his shoulder to hold it in place.

“We needed supplies for the journey,” I said.

“Bullshit. Even mortals can survive without food for a few days. If it wasn’t for this, what did you get that was so important?”

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