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

by Penn Cole

And so it’s there that my story begins.

Every patient’s death lay heavy on my soul,

“That blood sun was the day of my birth.” Her eyebrows rose. “Was it really?”

your reasons for spying are worth knowing, then I know them already.”

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

“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.”

More days passed with no answers. Then weeks. Then months. And still... she did not come home.

“The bargain was for life, Diem. Your mother agreed to serve in whatever manner the Crown requests for the rest of her life.”

“But... the King—Teller says he’s unconscious. If he dies... maybe no one else knows. Maybe—” “Prince Luther knows. He’s the one who negotiated it with your mother on behalf of the Crown.”

And I wondered how long I had until the fire in my soul burned me alive.

The world will try to disarm you, Diem. Do not let them. By wits or by weapon, be prepared at all times.

Understanding crashed into me. I had felt these things once before in my life, a long time ago. A time I’d tried desperately to forget.

But there was another voice. A louder voice. Fight.

I’d always been a spitfire, and proud of it.

And if I couldn’t learn to control it soon, I feared it would destroy me—or the people I loved most.

We call ourselves the Guardians of the Everflame.”

Before his fingertips could graze the hilt of my knife, I had one hand on his wrist, the other crossed to clamp onto his forearm. Then I was twisting, turning, using his momentum against him until his arm was locked at an awkward angle at his back and he was on his knees, grunting in pain and shock.

It was the same inexplicable pull I’d felt toward the gryvern—perhaps I had a thing for cranky, dangerous beasts.

“Did she put your suspicions to rest, or must I slice myself open to win you over?”

“I think,” he said, tugging it from my grasp, “it’s safe to say, Miss Bellator, you’ve already won me over.”

really, really hated him.

We were Andrei Bellator’s most cherished soldiers, and he trained us well.

Smaller means you’re faster and harder to hit, he’d say. Weaker means you’ll be underestimated, better able to catch them by surprise.

“Choose wisely how you spend them both.”

“Strength wins, Diem. Strength endures. The Descended have strength on their side, and they always will. Ignoring that will only get you killed.”

“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.”

“No matter what happens, I’ll have your back. Just... be careful.”

I was made to fight.

Those small idiosyncrasies littering his body were signs of his life and character,

I’d actually been quite proud.

“Family is important. It’s everything.”

If I didn’t feel like my skin was about to spontaneously combust, I might even have enjoyed watching him squirm. And on his knees, no less.

“Too bad I didn’t wear a dress,” I murmured. His hands slid higher, and my breath hitched.

“In this palace, the shadows are as dangerous as the people.”

“No, really. I think he trusts you because you were mean to him. No one’s ever mean to him.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think he kind of liked it.”

“Your sweet, selfless mother... she wanted me to have closure so I could move on without her. And something in me clicked. I took one look at the two of you, and I realized there was no sacrifice I wouldn’t make to keep you both in my life.”

I knew him. More than that—I felt him, his strange aura sweeping across my skin. Luther.

He stopped. His eyes darkened as they unapologetically roamed my body. “Did they hurt you?” he growled.

I glared. “First of all, if you ever call me fragile again, I’ll slice your precious royal balls off and shove them down your throat.” The group went dead silent. The corner of Luther’s lips twitched—just slightly.

We both froze in place as something ancient, something profound passed between us.

It warmed my blood with a calming peace I’d never known, yet filled me with the terrible dread of a fate I could not avoid.

“Lumnos herself couldn’t pull me from her side.”

I threw him a look. “Keep telling yourself that, Your Highness.”

“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.”

“Let me die with the taste of you on my lips.”

But Luther wasn’t cold at all. Luther was an inferno.

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me you don’t feel my magic.”

“Lie to me. I already know the answer. I know you feel my power.” His chin rose, our lips so very, very close. “Because I can feel yours, too.”