Spark of the Everflame (Kindred's Curse, #1)

by Penn Cole

and the secrets she kept on my behalf, might have stayed buried forever in the Emarion soil, and so many lives might never have had to take their place.

A stream of inebriated revelers stumbled through the dusty alleys of Mortal City,

“It wasn’t your fault, Diem.”

I could do nothing but hold his hand and murmur the sacred Rite of Endings.

The life had dimmed from his carob eyes while the merriment continued around us uninterrupted.

No one had paused to pay respects, not even as I’d struggled to haul his body to the forest surrounding our village so he could decompose in peace, eternally slumbering under a b...

It had lit a spark deep within me, a need for justice, that I was struggling to ignore.

“Strange to have a blood sun on Forging Day,”

I tucked a wisp of white hair behind my ears, its unnatural hue made all the more bold against the dar...

In the old mortal religions, a blood sun was said to be a warning from the gods, a harbinger of great upheaval.

“That blood sun was the day of my birth.”

Even the gods knew you would be a pain in the ass, Teller would say with a grin before fleeing out of my reach.

Henri was my oldest and dearest friend—and lately, he’d become something even more.

Though Forging Day was our most raucous holiday, it wasn’t one that most mortals looked on with fondness.

On this day many millennia ago, nine immortal siblings known as the Kindred crafted a magical pact—the Forging—after seeking refuge in our world following the violent destruction of their own. Each of the Kindred fell in love with a citizen of our nation of Emarion.

Through the Forging spell, Emarion was broken up into nine realms, each named for one of the Kindred and infused with its patron god’s or goddess’s respective magic.

Despite growing up a short walk from Lumnos City, the wealthy capital of our realm and home to the elite ruling class, I might as well live a world away.

the King had pulled his guards and left us to our own devices for the day.

I doubt many will risk the wrath of the mighty Andrei Bellator by getting handsy with his daughter.”

“He’s a good man, your father. His retirement was a great loss to the Emarion Army.”

Mortal City felt like a tinderbox, one spark away from exploding.

“What’s wrong with your eyes, girl?” I squinted in a feeble attempt to conceal them, but the damage was done. “Fortos’s balls, she’s one of them.” “You’re a Descended?” the short one hissed.

Mortals could only bear brown eyes, another consequence of the Forging spell.

and general mediocrity that eventually convinced everyone I had not been a Descended child in disguise.

They called it Paradise Row—ironic or fitting, depending on what you sought.

Say what you want about the women of Paradise Row, but they certainly were loyal.

Some could barely summon a spark. Others could drown the entire realm in darkness.

“You don’t give me orders, Auralie.”

“No,” he snapped. “I’ve already paid your extortion ten times over.”

She leaned casually against the frame of a nearby doorway, eyes so dark they appeared black, shoulders stooped with age.

I’ve already met my true love, I’m going to have a stable full of children, and I’m going to live a long, blissfully happy life before I die.” “No, child. None of that for you, I’m afraid.” There was a sorrow in her tone, a sympathy fluttering across her features that planted a seed of unease.

“Those eyes—a gift from your father, aren’t they? Your real father.” I froze. “And that’s not the only thing he gave you, is it?”

“And it appears the Kindred are done waiting.”

her resolve was a wall of Fortosian steel.

“He knows about you, your father. He’s waiting for you.” “My sire, not my father,”

Her knobby finger rose to stroke my cheekbone. “Oh, Diem Bellator, the things I could do with you.” I tried to protest, tried to slap her hand away, tried to recoil from her frigid touch. But I could only stare in wide-eyed horror.

I was completely at her mercy, caged in my own head by her dark command.

Umbros

“Listen to me and listen close, Daughter of the Forgotten.”

“And stop taking that cursed flameroot powder.”

symptoms of a disease I’d inherited from my birth father, the same illness that turned my eyes grey and my hair white at age ten—would be far more severe than a clouded mind.

In Mortal City, many naive mortal women got caught in the spell of charming Descended men, only to find themselves heartbroken and disgraced. But that would never, ever be my mother—not for a thousand reasons.

Welll...maybe not anymore

It’s bad enough you’re the only mortal at a Descended school, but you’re also ten times more clever than any of those blue-eyed brats.

“How would I have known?” “Because Mother was treating him.” “Our mother?” I blinked. “She was treating King Ulther?”

Henri didn’t just dislike the Descended—he despised them.

but lately there had been a spark in his eyes when he spoke of

“Prince Luther, the King’s nephew. He’s incredibly powerful, no matter how you measure it. He’s one of the only Lumnos Descended that can wield both light magic and shadow magic.”

“No, but his sister Lily is in my class. Princess Lilian, I mean. She’s... really nice.” If his splotchy, blushing cheeks hadn’t betrayed him,

Although our homeland of Lumnos, Realm of Light and Shadow, was one of the more mortal-friendly of the nine realms of Emarion, even here Teller’s options would always be limited.

Though such dalliances weren’t strictly outlawed, mortals and Lumnos Descended were forbidden from intermarrying, and any pregnancies between the two races were forcibly terminated and the mortal parent banned permanently from the realm.

What she is?

As clouds passed over the morning sun, the glistening facade gently wavered like a reflection off the Sacred Sea.