Heat of the Everflame: The Kindred's Curse Saga, Book Three, page 20
I smirked. “Just get better, will you? Making him mad was a lot more fun when we did it together.”
Despite my smile, a gnawing regret warned that I might have finally pushed Luther too far. He’d been stormy and withdrawn since leaving Arboros, and I’d been so focused on Taran’s injuries that we’d hardly spoken. With his dearest friend’s life in the balance, perhaps he was nursing wounds of his own—wounds I’d just poured salt right into.
I sighed guiltily and scooped the remaining herbs back into a dry pouch. Luther needed me, and he needed to know I was safe. There was little I could do to give him that comfort—especially here, especially now—but for him, I had to try.
As I turned to go check on Alixe, Taran grabbed my wrist, and our eyes met.
“Thank you, Diem. I’m too selfish to say I wish you hadn’t done it. I hope you know I would have done it for you, too.”
“Then prove it,” I said, a spark of challenge in my tone. “I faced death for you and lived.” I gestured to his wounds. “Time to return the favor.”
His face gave way to a feral grin, that inveterate cheekiness I adored returning once more. “Anything for you, Queenie.”
Chapter
Nineteen
“Are we there yet?”
Alixe and I groaned in unison.
“Look around, Taran,” she said. “Do you see anything other than sea or desert?”
“No.”
“Then the answer is the same as the last fifteen times you asked.”
“And if you ask again, I’m feeding you to Sorae when we get home,” I added.
Taran nudged me with his elbow. “After all the trouble you went to last night to keep me alive?”
“Oh, I’ll let you live. I’ll just let Sorae nibble off an arm or two.”
“I’d rather you tell her to take another one off that guy Vance.”
“So would I,” Alixe agreed.
“So would I.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of Luther’s low voice. I tried to catch his eye, but he was staring off across the sea, his expression murky.
He’d been avoiding me all day. He had insisted we walk in formation with Alixe taking point, Taran at my side, and himself at the rear. Every time I tried to slow my pace to join him, he fell back even further, determined to maintain our distance.
I pulled at my top, ruffling it to waft a breeze over my skin. “I thought it would be cooler near the water. It’s hotter here than in the dunes.”
Alixe and Taran shot me quizzical stares.
“You’re hot?” Taran rubbed his hands along his arms and shivered. “Queenie, it’s freezing.”
Alixe’s thick cloak flapped loudly in a sudden gust as if to prove his point.
I frowned up at the sky. A quilt of clouds had rolled in, casting a gloomy pallor over the beach. Being so near to the sea brought a constant breeze, but while the others had burrowed deeper into their wools, I felt more like I was roasting in front of a hearth. I’d stripped down hours ago to my thinnest linen layer, though it had done little to stop pearls of sweat from forming like a necklace along my throat.
Taran’s toe caught in the sand, and he stumbled. I jumped forward to catch his arm. “Do you need to sit?”
He swatted me away. “I’m clumsy, not weak.”
“Maybe you should rest anyway.”
“Let’s stop,” Luther cut in. “Just in case.”
Taran threw his head back and whined. “We’ve rested enough. I’m ready to get to Umbros and see what trouble Her Majesty’s going to get us all into this time.”
“Don’t test me today, Taran,” Luther growled.
Taran shot me a look and pointed a thumb behind us. “This is your fault,” he mouthed.
“Sorae’s getting that thumb,” I mouthed back.
We veered off the beach to a cluster of rocks, each of us taking the chance to shake out the windblown sand that had gathered in our clothes.
“Let me see your wounds,” I insisted as I moved to Taran’s side. The urge to check on the poultice had been nagging at me all day, though I was as nervous as I was eager. The herbs I’d collected in Arboros made up the strongest drawing salve I knew. If this didn’t work to stop the godstone’s spread, I wasn’t sure what else I could do.
I cajoled Taran through his gripes about disrobing in the chilly weather and reached for the bandage on his ribs. His flesh felt ice cold under my palms. I convinced myself it was a positive omen—heat meant infection. Infection meant death.
My hands went still as I lifted the gauze.
I felt the weight of Taran’s eyes watching me.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is it... is it bad?”
In the past, each new glimpse had revealed further spread of the poison, more ground lost to the dark invasion beneath his skin. I’d grown used to bracing for it, to throwing on a smile to distract him—and myself—from the slow defeat.
Nothing could have braced me for this.
“Lumnos’s tits,” Taran swore. “Is that...?”
Alixe and Luther rushed to my side, craning their necks to see.
I pulled off the gauze completely and stared at it, dumbstruck. The poultice had turned firm and black, resting like a lump of tar on the white linen.
And his skin...
“It’s healing,” Alixe breathed.
I struggled to find words. The gash in his side had slimmed to a thin cut surrounded by a patch of shiny pink flesh. The black veins that once splintered like lightning had receded and faded to a muted grey.
Taran sat up and tore off the bandage at his shoulder, contorting himself to get a better look. It, too, had improved remarkably. Though the wound was still large, the dark discharge had dried, and the poisonous web of veins had scaled back by half.
“This is good, isn’t it? It’s getting better?” Taran’s face was bright, pleading for permission to give in to dormant hope.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen a salve work like this.”
Luther crouched beside me and took the bandage from my hand to examine it. Tingles rippled where his skin brushed against mine, his nearness pulling me from my shock.
“Can you make more?” he asked.
I nodded and pulled off my rucksack to rummage for my supplies, then set to work preparing a new batch.
“It’s not over yet,” I warned, swiping away the sweat on my forehead. “The poultice is drawing out the infection, but it could spread again.”
Taran gripped Luther by the shoulder as his grin spread from ear to ear. “She’s not pretending everything’s fine. That has to be a good sign.”
Luther didn’t answer, his focus consumed by my hands, engrossed in their every move. When I turned to clean off Taran’s chest, Luther picked up the bowl to inspect it. “The Crowns have searched for a cure to godstone for centuries. If this is it—”
“It’s not,” I said. “My mother’s notes said the toxin doesn’t always respond.” I balled some of the mixture in my hands to warm it and winked up at Taran. “Perhaps the Blessed Mother granted me a favor after all.”
“The heathen repents!” he shouted gleefully.
“We are trying to stay hidden, Taran,” Alixe scolded, but even she couldn’t keep from smiling.
As my palm pressed to his chest, Taran sucked in air and winced. “Is it supposed to burn this time?”
“Burn?” I looked down at my hands. The liquid along the edges of the mixture had begun to bubble, and a light trail of steam rose from the top.
I frowned. “The water must have overheated in the canteen.” I set that portion down to cool and reached for a fresh handful, taking it straight to Taran’s chest.
Though he didn’t pull away this time, his head cocked as he studied me. “Are you feeling alright?”
Luther’s attention finally tore from the poultice. His eyes darted between me and Taran.
“I feel fine,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
Taran wrapped his hand around my forearm. After a moment, he let go and shook out his palm. “It wasn’t that slop that was burning. It’s you.”
Luther’s back went rod straight. He reached for my arm. His face immediately twisted into a deep frown, then his palm moved to the side of my neck.
I leaned into it with a soft sigh. His skin was deliciously cold, a refreshing reprieve from the claustrophobic heat I’d been languishing in all day.
“You’re burning up,” he said gruffly.
“First you scold me for being too cold, now I’m too warm?” I joked.
He didn’t laugh. None of them did.
Luther turned me to face him and cupped my face in his palms. He scowled at my skin like it had personally wronged him. “When did this start?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit overheated. Maybe I picked up a cold from my dip in the sea last night.” I laughed awkwardly, shrinking a bit at his scrutiny. “I didn’t know Descended could get fevers.”
“We don’t,” Alixe answered. “Unless...” She stopped herself, eying Luther.
“Unless you were poisoned,” Taran finished.
Luther’s fingers tightened around me. “What have you eaten? Was your canteen filled from the spring? The berries you brought back, were they—”
“I’m not poisoned.” I shot them all a stern look. “I am a healer you know, I do know what to look out for. I’m not achy or nauseous or lightheaded. I’m just hot.”
I reluctantly pulled Luther’s hands away and gave them a squeeze. “I’m fine, truly. If I start to feel ill, I’ll say something so we can rest. I promise.”
His eyes roved over me. He was plainly unconvinced, but there was little he could do.
When I moved to pull back, he gave the faintest grip of resistance, not quite ready to let me go. The moment my fingers finally slid away, his emotions retreated back behind his mask, and the stoic Prince returned.
He took my mortar and pestle to wash in the seawater, and Alixe strolled further down the beach to scout, leaving Taran and I alone.
“You’re going to put that man in an early grave from worrying over you,” he said.
“Has he always been like this?”
“Overprotective?” Taran barked a laugh. “You have no idea. He thinks anything bad that happens to someone he cares about is his failure.”
Atoning for his mother’s death, I thought sadly. He couldn’t save her, so he’s trying to save all of us.
Taran leaned back on his hands as I shifted to bandage his ribs. “But the way he is with you? I’ve never seen him like that with anyone but Lily. We always said any boy who wanted Lil’s heart would have to have a death wish.” He grinned and flexed his abs under my hand. “Turned out he just needed a pretty older sister.”
I rolled my eyes. “All Descended are pretty.”
“Fine. A feisty older sister.” He stared up at the sky. “Blessed Mother, you have one hell of a sense of humor putting those two couples together.”
I flopped down beside Taran and stared out at Luther, who was still hunched over the water giving my tools a thorough scrub.
There were no words to explain the darkness that had consumed me in those brief, desolate moments when I’d believed he might be dead. The possibility of life without him had been a suffocating fate. Finding him alive was like learning how to breathe again.
“Do you really believe that?” I asked Taran. “You think the gods decide who we’re meant to be with?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I thought your mating bond ritual was about choosing the person you want to be with forever. If the gods have already paired us up, that’s hardly a meaningful choice.”
“The Kindred offer us gifts, but we don’t have to accept them.” He nudged me with his leg. “You almost chose someone else.”
“So did he,” I muttered, remembering how Luther had nearly sold his life away to Iléana to protect me from House Hanoverre.
“If he died tomorrow, who’s to say Lumnos wouldn’t bring someone else into your life who cares for you just as deeply as Lu does?”
“That seems unlikely,” I murmured. My heart lurched at the thought.
“Maybe so.” Taran’s voice turned quiet. “But we don’t always get to keep the people we love forever, so let’s hope it’s true.”
Far in the distance, the rumble of thunder rolled through the air. The clouds above had darkened, the heavy air a portent of a coming storm.
Taran slapped his hand on my leg and rose to his feet. “This conversation is depressing. You got back safely from Arboros, I’m healing, and we’re almost out of fucking Ignios. Today is a day for celebrating. And look...”
A hazy black shape hovered over his open palm. It was cut like a gemstone, but instead of sparkling under the light, within its facets the darkness seemed to rebound forever.
“Your magic is back again?” Alixe asked, walking up. “You had it once already this morning.”
Taran wiggled his fingers and the gem shifted into a miniature shadowy gryvern. It wove in circles around me, nipping its dark fangs at my thumbs.
I grinned and scratched the tiny creature beneath its jaw. It gave a happy wiggle of its haunches then flew up to perch on my shoulder.
When I touched Taran’s magic, I could feel the hum of his power over my skin—not the vast, dominant aria Luther’s had been, but formidable nonetheless. I could also sense its friendly intentions, so much like its bearer.
I wondered what Taran’s godhood demanded of him. Did it insist that he fight, like mine usually did? Or did it tell him to tease? To grin? To drink?
“It’s coming back more frequently,” Alixe said to Luther as he returned. Hers had appeared earlier as well, providing temporary safety while we walked under the cloak of her illusions. “Any sign of yours?”
“Not since the other day,” he answered.
He looked at me in question, and I shook my head. I’d been waiting all day for some whisper of the voice’s call. With my luck, the flameroot would wear off the very moment the danger had ended.
We resumed our trek, our pace brisker thanks to our new confidence in Taran’s health. He kept Alixe and I entertained with shadow magic creations that grew increasingly obscene, while Luther fell further and further behind.
The storm continued its foreboding approach to land, bringing stronger winds and a darker sky. With the sun obscured by the clouds, it was nearly impossible to know how close we were to nightfall—and, thus, how close we were to Umbros.
Every turn along the coast had us stretching our necks for a glimpse of the realm’s infamous black rock canyons, only to be greeted with more Ignios sand.
I second-guessed everything about my plan. What if the King flew overhead on his gryvern or his guard came riding over the dunes? What if they were already waiting for us at the border?
Worse—what if Taran’s fear had been right, and Umbros brought even more danger than Ignios?
We’d been safe enough in the abandoned Mortal City, but I, in my infinite wisdom, had thrown around the weight of my Crown and forced us to go, all on some hunch that onward lay our salvation.
I looked back at Luther. He’d been staring at the ground, his hood pulled low, but his eyes rose to mine in an instant.
Trust your instincts, my Queen, he’d told me. Above all else, trust yourself.
After what I’d done last night, did he still believe those words? Did he still believe in me?
I laid a palm across my chest. Seconds later, I got my answer: with a slow nod, he did the same.
“Wait,” Alixe hissed from up ahead.
We’d approached a rocky outcrop where she crouched at the point, peering down the beach.
“Three guards,” she whispered. “They don’t look like they’re searching.”
“Might be a watchpoint to look for anyone crossing the border off the Ring Road,” Taran said.
“Can they kill us just for that?” I asked.
“Not unless they realize who you are,” Luther said.
“We could wait here and hope my magic returns to hide us,” Alixe suggested. “But the longer we wait, the more we risk being caught.”
Taran pushed his shirt up his forearms, an excited gleam in his eyes. “There are three of them and four of us. If we strike first and I use my shield to stop their flames, we can take them down.”
“An unprovoked attack on Ignios soil might start an entirely different war,” Alixe warned.
Luther nodded. “There’s no good option.” He turned to me. “It’s your decision, my Queen.”
I stiffened.
Right... Authority. Control. Deference.
This was what I’d demanded from them.
Though the Crown was hidden away inside me, I felt its weight on my head more than I ever had.
I looked at Taran. “Do you still have your magic?” He conjured a shadow spear in response, and my insides knotted. “Then we go now—but we don’t attack. Not unless we have no other choice.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” they answered in unison.
They began moving like clockwork, their years of training together now acutely apparent. Luther issued commands about formation, attack strategy, what to say, when and how to retreat. Alixe and Taran acknowledged each order, their faces hard and battle-ready, adjusting their weapons.
Luther came behind me and pulled my cloak from my pack, then laid it across my shoulders. Despite the hard line of his mouth, his hands moved tenderly as he swept my hair over my shoulder and tucked it behind my ears to hide it from sight.
He wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and pulled my hood low over my head. “Keep your face down when we pass.” He brushed a thumb along my cheekbone below my eyes. “Save these for me.”
His palms skimmed over my hips and thighs to check each of my weapons. His touch left a trail of heat that set my already overwarm body ablaze.
Instinctively, I arched toward him. It was a biological imperative, this eternal craving to be closer, closer, and closer to him still.
My mind went to wildly inappropriate places as I wondered if that need would ever feel sated, even if his body was on me, inside me. He might have read those thoughts, with the way his mouth lingered near mine and his eyes burned with hunger.
