This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting anxiously for. And I felt completely unprepared.

"But..." I recoiled from the fervent gleam in the king's gray eyes. "I...Surely, you don't think I'm ready? We still haven't determined a pattern for the flames."

"After the recent attack, I no longer feel we have the luxury of waiting."

King Brinley waved away my concerns as though they were nothing. As though one mistake wouldn't cost me my life. Those flames may have belonged to my mother, but the scars on my arm reminded me every day that I was not fireproof.

If only he would give me a few more weeks or even days... It would give me more time to hone my speed and reflexes with Remiel. That's what I should have been doing all along. Not playing with magic.

"And how do you expect me to relight the portal?"

This was one thing we had yet to discuss. The success of this entire plan hinged on me being able to reach through my mother's madness and convince her to relight the portal. But he didn't know that. He didn't know whose blood ran in my veins.

The king smiled and snapped his fingers. A small, jumpy elf entered the tent–a brownie from the looks of his weathered skin and tufted ears. In his hands, he held a jar that looked very, very familiar.

"The light of the world," I exclaimed.

The flame inside the glass swelled at the sound of my voice. Its orange fingers licked up the curved walls and teased the lid. It felt as though a lifetime had passed since Astreia and I snuck into Friedesh to retrieve it to save Tievel's life. I had assumed it was gone.

"How will that relight the portal?"

King Brinley held the jar in front of his face and rotated it slowly, looking like the demons painted in some of the mythology books in the palace library.

"Have you heard of the Fyrbyrd?"

A ball of tension formed between my shoulder blades, and keeping my voice casual when I spoke again was difficult. Now was the time to mix lies with the truth.

"I've heard the myths."

"She is not a myth. Her name is Seraphina."

His words wove a spell around me, and though it pained me to admit it, he had my full attention. This was another piece of my past. Something I didn't know about my mother, and I hungered for that information.

"I met her many, many, many centuries ago."

His eyes flew to mine, widening as if he realized what he'd given away. King Brinley was not that old, and I knew then. Knew that Astreia had been right about the king. He had defied the gods and moved his soul into another's body to avoid the judgment fires. From the wicked way he grinned, I knew he planned to kill me if I survived Araphel.

Continuing, he said, "I combed the world for any knowledge of her. Ancient scrolls mentioned her. Once she was a high elf like any other. Gifted in fire magic. A princess of a sun kingdom long since destroyed."

Hoping to hide my eagerness to hear more, I muttered, "This is a very long-winded way to answer my question."

King Brinley tilted his head as he looked at me. "It's a pity you are an abomination. Otherwise, I might explore other ways to occupy your sassy mouth."

I swallowed back a rush of bile. Behind me, the air seemed to thicken, and I wished Remiel could read my mind so that he could hear my desperate pleas to calm.

"As I was saying, I discovered she had not always been a Fyrbyrd. It was a punishment from the gods. For what offense, I could never discover, but they bound her to the portal. And gave her true immortality. There is no veil over her soul. No Deathsinger that can strip her of her gift. It is a fire that burns forever in her bones. A soul fire. Just like Queen Luciana's."

Staggering backward, I gripped the back of a chair. Could it really be that easy? As much as I longed to find my mother and speak to her, I knew it could end in disaster. She was more likely to attack me than listen to me. But if I could take this light to Dycidium, I could relight it myself.

There was another snap from the king, and this time a woman entered carrying folded clothes. She set them on my bed, bowed low, and left.

"I trust you'll find those clothes are more to your liking." He looked me over with a sneer tugging at his lips. "Change and meet me at the river. The supplies you'll need will be waiting."

When he left, I counted to ten before spinning around. "Remiel. Remiel?"

The Reaper did not reply, and when I reached into his hiding spot, I found nothing but cold air. Confident he hadn't abandoned me, I threw off the robe and stripped out of the sweaty garments I'd trained in and into the clothes the king had provided.

I was delighted to discover the outfit was perfect for trekking through the woods and possibly fighting for my life. Supple brown leather, high-waisted trousers and a soft dark green tunic. There was even a leather jacket that matched the trousers, though it was a bit snug across my full breasts, leaving me no choice but to let it hang open. It stopped just above my hips and had deep pockets for hiding daggers. All of it was finely made from the leather to the stitching, and if I was going to die on this quest, at least I would do it in style.

Tugging on my scuffed boots, I looked around the room for anything I might wish to take and came up empty. Nothing in here belonged to me. But then my eye snagged on the silver and amethyst hair comb I'd worn to the king's dinner.

Sliding it into the knot where my two braids met on the back of my head, I decided it was a promise to myself. It would fetch a pretty price at the market if I escaped Araphel alive. Not if. When I escaped.

"Take this as well."

Kuga's cold voice washed over me, and I turned to find her extending a rapier to me. Its hilt was covered in the same amethyst gems as the hairpiece, and the long silver blade glimmered in the candlelight. They could have been part of a set. Likely, they were in a way. Pieces of Kuga's life from before the king, and maybe even before she chose a beating heart over her soul.

When I didn't take it from her, she stepped forward and looped the sword belt around my waist. Her nimble fingers made quick work of it, and when she settled the weapon against my hip, I shivered at the chill of her touch.

"Why?" I demanded. "The last time we spoke, I burned you."

"That is why." She exhaled so hard, her bones rattled. "The king asked me today if I thought you would survive, and honestly, until the night of the dinner, I would have answered no. But that girl–that woman–who unleashed that fire...she will survive."

"Thank you."

Kuga nodded and stepped out of my way. As I passed, she touched my shoulder and said, "You are stronger than I ever was, and maybe because of that, you will avoid this fate."

Hope bubbled up, and I darted into the night before I did something foolish. Like, thank her again. Or hug her.

King Brinley waited on the river's edge. Guards surrounded him, and a sullen Tievel stood nearby. A dozen torches provided enough light to reveal the mounting impatience on the king's face. His lips pursed when he saw the sword at my hip.

"I don't recall that being included with your clothes," he muttered.

"Do you even know how to use it without stabbing yourself?" Tievel asked, shoulders rising toward his ears.

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"What need does a woman with your power have of mortal weapons?" King Brinley asked, handing me a heavy satchel. A horse stood nearby, its saddle bags bulging.

I peered inside. There was another change of clothes. Blankets. And the light of the world nestled between it all.

"A woman who wants every advantage she can get."

"Fair enough. You'll find food in the saddlebags. A few daggers." He grinned. "More to your advantage, yes?"

I did not like this version of the king. The flirtations. The kindness. It was unsettling.

"The tide is low." He pointed to the spot where I'd crossed with Tievel not long ago. "Cross there and then hurry to the temple. It should take you about three days to reach."

"But Dycidium is not in the temple," I said, not looking at the prince as I repeated what he told me.

"It is not, but the directions to it are."

"And where will I find those?"

He shrugged. "Only a Deathsinger can reveal that."

Mouth falling open, I gaped at him for several seconds. These were all things I needed to know long before tonight. Details that would mean the difference between life and death.

"Good luck Morana," King Brinley said, gesturing into the darkness. "Do not fail."

I mounted the horse and spurred him across the shallow waters, grateful to leave my enemies behind me. The place between my shoulders itched, and I knew if I turned, I would find two bright blue eyes pinned to my retreating form.

Was Tievel glad to be rid of me at last? He made it clear he wanted me gone, but the last few times we'd talked, something had changed.

The darkness swelled and shifted, revealing Remiel standing in the treeline. My heart stuttered. "You shouldn't be here."

"Where you go, I go." The shadows crept upward and over his face again. "And it is time we go home."