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

by Penn Cole

It’s never the enemy who attacks outright who will strike your killing blow, he’d taught me. It’s the one who hides in the shadows and waits. The one who strikes when you’ve finally looked away. Those are the true predators to fear.

“When forgotten blood on heartstone falls, then shall the chains be broke,” she crooned. “Life for life, old debt requires, or eternal be his yoke.”

“That’s what family is all about. Standing by each other’s side, even when you make the worst mistakes.”

But I was made of swinging fists and rash words, my edges too jagged and my temper too hot. Nothing about me was delicate.

Crouched in the shadows, watching and waiting from afar, were the memories of a missing mother, a dangerous Prince, and a cloud of ash that had once been a snarling wolf.

“I cannot tell you what to do with your life, my darling Diem. But whatever you choose—be smart. And above all, survive. Your life is far too precious to me to be wasted.”

Don’t choose a mediocre life for a mediocre man. Go be exceptional. If he’s worth it, he won’t judge you. And if he’s really the one, he’ll come along for the ride.”

“My darling Diem, you asked how I knew your mother was the one? The truth is that I just knew. There was never a decision to make. Whatever path she was on, that was where I belonged. By her side, and by yours. Any other option was unthinkable.”

“If the death of innocents is a cost we’re willing to pay, then we don’t deserve to be powerful.”

“I think you have a rare gift for seeing a person for who they are, and not just what they are.”

“Give him our gift, Daughter of the Forgotten. When the end has come, and the blood has spilled, give our gift to my faithful heir, and tell him this is my command.”

“You think I fear my own death?” he whispered in my ear. “Every day I draw breath is as much a curse as a gift. I’ve been living on borrowed time for longer than you can imagine. If you’re the way my fate finally catches up to me, I can’t fathom a more beautiful end.”

All this time, I’d dismissed Luther as someone ice-cold and heartless, too frosty to feel anything true. But Luther wasn’t cold at all. Luther was an inferno.

Looking at him now was like staring in a mirror in the worst kind of way. I hid behind false bravado and snarky jokes, while Luther’s shield was forged with brooding stares and clenched jaws—but inside, we were one and the same.

“Diem—you’re wearing the Crown. You’ve been selected. You are the new Queen of Lumnos.”