Page 87 of Burn of the Everflame

“Eleanor has great promise as a leader, and I admire what she’s done in your absence. She is a wise choice as Regent of Lumnos, but as for the other realms . . . I cannot imagine how someone who has lived all her life in Lumnos can lead people she knows nothing about.”

“Yet that’s exactly what I’ve been called to do,” I reminded her, pointing to my Crown.

Alixe’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“It’s alright. I agree, the realms need leaders who understand them. Nevertheless, I am Queen, and I need Regents I can trust. All my allies are from Lumnos.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to make more allies.”

Alixe’s words stayed in my thoughts as I stormed through the palace into a meeting room that was nothing short of bedlam. The chamber was packed with shouting Descended, many I recognized from the House Receptions in my early days as Queen. A long table was set with thrones, with Eleanor, Taran, and Zalaric crowded near a chair carved with the moon-and-sun sigil of Lumnos. On the other side, Remis looked uncharacteristically ruffled as he argued with a seething Marthe Hanoverre and a red-faced Evrim Benette.

At the thrones marked for Sophos and Meros, Doriel and Obaneryn stood, rather than sat, hands clasped behind their backs as their eyes bounced between each other and the chaos around them.

The Ignios Regent was firmly seated in his. His gaze slid to me and narrowed. “Murderer.”

The room fell to a hush as a hundred pairs of eyes turned my way.

“My brother is dead because of you,” he snarled.

I walked toward him, forcing the crowd to part. “Your brother is dead because he attacked a Queen much smarter than he was. I’m not Yrselle, but I can make sure you join him, if you intend to do the same.”

“Is what he claims true?” a voice called from the crowd. “Can your blood cure godstone?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Gasps rippled through the room, along with scattered cries of “How?” and “Blessed Kindred!”

“Does that mean you’re immune to it?” someone yelled out.

In truth, I had no idea. After being stabbed on the island, I’d certainly felt like death was near. Somehow I’d survived—if it happened again, I might not be so lucky.

But they didn’t need to know that.

“Yes,” I said haughtily. “I’m immune to godstone.”

More shocked whispers arose. Not far from Marthe Hanoverre, snickering pulled my attention to her grandchildren—the two Descended I hated most.

“I think she’s lying,” Iléana said to Jean behind her hand, speaking loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Someone should put it to the test,” the Ignios Regent sneered.

I stopped beside the Ignios throne and flashed him my sweetest smile. “Let’s make a bet. You put a godstone blade through my chest, just like your brother did. If I survive it”—I set a hand on the chair and leaned in close—“I get to do the same to you.”

His nostrils flared.

Glowing red spots sprouted along the carved wood beneath my hand, and the smell of burning cedar wafted through the room.

“What are you doing?” he sputtered. “Is that—” Tendrils of smoke began to curl around him. He leapt from the chair as the seat beneath him burst into flames. Face red with fury, he grabbed the scimitar at his hip. The woman I’d seen with him before jumped forward, reaching for her weapons—but her warning glare was set on him, not me.

I raised my other hand, and all nine of the thrones began to burn. The crowd stumbled back, stunned faces illuminated in orange from the bonfire’s glow.

“Those were nine hundred years old,” Remis snapped.

“Then let this be a lesson about what I’m willing to do to old, unnecessary things.”

Marthe Hanoverre gave a disgusted sniff. “How convenient that she reappeared at the precise moment this Ophiucae person attacked. It almost seems planned.”

“I returned to Lumnos as quickly as I could,” I sniped back. “Just in time to catch you in the midst of treason.”