Lorcan didn't even blink. "Lachalonia is suffering, Evelayn. Eadrolan's forests are slowly dying, and Dorjhalon is nearly always ensconced in winter now." "And whose fault is that?" she broke in angrily. "You speak to me as if I should take responsibility for what has happened to Lachalonia." He ignored her barb and continued, "Your Draiolon are nearly without power. If you won't do it for Eadrolan or for yourself, do it for them." Evelayn jumped to her feet, the pain and weakness receding in the face of her fury. "How dare you pretend to be concerned about what your actions have done to my kingdom -- to my Draiolon. You did all of this. I should have killed you when I had the chance." Lorcan gazed at her coolly, one eyebrow lifted as if he found her amusing, but his hands clenched into fists. "Then do it now, my queen," he taunted. "Kill me and end this. Perhaps it would be a relief." "Don't mock me," Evelayn snapped back. "You know I don't have the power, or I would have long ago. Just as I killed Bain." His mouth twisted as if he'd tasted something sour. "Oh, yes, your great triumph." "Yes, my triumph. Right before my worst failure -- giving you the chance to make that vow and believing you'd actually work with me to establish and maintain peace. You're no better than your father." Lorcan's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. "Don't pretend to understand me or my choices. And never compare me to my father ever again." The cold fury in his voice and the crackle of the ground around his feet turning to ice was enough to make Evelayn close her mouth and swallow the furious retort she'd nearly spat at him, all too aware of the fact that despite his farce of an offer, he truly held all the power. Excerpted from Bright Burns the Night by Sara B. Larson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
