Page 340 of Burn of the Everflame

Ophiucae’s choked sound of relief took me by surprise, matching my own.

“—but something’s wrong. She won’t wake up.” Teller looked up at him. “Can you use your magic to heal her?”

My head gave a slow, terrified shake as understanding dawned.

As a child, Teller rarely misbehaved. When he did, it was usually at his sister’s request. He was her favorite accomplice, thanks to his ability to tell an impeccable lie—in part, because he never lied at all. He skillfully twisted his words to emphasize the truths that helped them and distract from the ones that didn’t. While Diem wore her emotions stitched across her chest in vibrant colors, Teller’s cunning composure could fool almost anyone.

The son I stared at now looked scared. His hands were trembling, his voice was shrill. If anything he’d said had been a lie, Ophiucae’s magic would have sensed it. There was no reason to doubt him.

But a mother knew.

A mother always knew.

I thrashed against my restraints as my panic mutated into something frenzied and wild. Ophiucae ran through his shield to join Teller at Diem’s side. Teller shoved her body into his arms. Ophiucae grimaced at the touch of her godstone armor on his skin.

The magic that held me flickered, weakening enough for me to slip away. I tried to run toward them, but Teller shot me a look so grave, it stopped me still.

He looked back at Ophiucae. “Can you heal her?”

Ophiucae dropped his sword and set his palm on Diem’s cheek. “Her wounds aren’t deep. They shouldn’t have caused this.”

Teller’s eyes found mine again. They held my gaze for moment, widened, then darted to a different spot nearby. I spun toward it, raising my hands in anticipation of a surprise attack, and blinked at the empty expanse. No soldiers, no gryverns, no threat. Only the rocky Fortos flatlands . . . and two discarded blades coated in a scarlet paste. I snatched them both and cursed myself for teaching my children to scheme.

“So it was a magical attack?” Teller asked him.

“My soldiers wouldn’t attack her.” Ophiucae’s hands curled into fists. “She must have been betrayed by one of her own.”

Teller nodded encouragingly. He was toying with Ophiucae’s paranoia, using his distrust of the world against him. “You could look at her memories,” he suggested. “Find out what happened to her right before she went unconscious. Then we’ll know how to help her.”

“And who to kill,” Ophiucae snarled.

Teller nodded again. “Anyone who hurts my sister has to pay.”

Ophiucae fell quiet as his gaze roamed over Teller’s face, and my breath stuck in my throat. For a long moment, none of us moved—then Ophiucae gave a slight smile. He laid Diem’s body on the ground, pressed his palm to her forehead, and closed his eyes.

“Diem was watching the battle from the Lumnos border,” Teller said. “Start looking at her memories there.”

He shot me a look, and I shook my head, silently ordering him to stop.

“Diem wanted to come to me,” Ophiucae murmured. “She was ready to make her choice.”

“Focus on the memories that will help us heal her,” Teller insisted. He beckoned for me to come closer. “Try later—after she joined the battle.”

I crept forward, careful not to make a sound.

Ophiucae hummed. “Yes. The battle. She was looking for you.”

“That’s right,” Teller said.

“You’d done something to upset her.”

“I’m her brother. That’s my job.”

“She was angry at you. Worried, too.”

“She’s my sister. That’s her job.”

Teller laughed.