Spark of the Everflame

“I’d never taken a life before. As a healer, I’d sworn a vow to help, not harm. And I didn’t want to be like the cruel Descended, playing god as I dealt out death like a deck of cards. But if my own life was on the line…Survive, my father’s words echoed in my ears. At whatever cost, to whatever end. Survive first, mind the consequences later.”

Diem’s experiences in the city cause her to question who she is, and when she kills in self-defense, she must suddenly redefine her understanding of The Tension Between Good and Evil. She wants to fight for peace and goodness and is therefore weighing how her actions might reflect on her character. Diem also relies on her father’s wisdom to navigate this difficult moment—a habit inspired by her childhood dependence trust in Andrei. Her thoughts indicate that she is still in a developmental stage where she needs her guardian to help her make the right choice.

“For a moment, I couldn’t move. He was so much closer than he’d been before. Close enough to notice the square set of his jaw, the sweeping cliffs of his cheekbones, his nose—straight as a broadsword’s blade. Close enough to sell the cedar and leather of his woodsy musk. Close enough to see that his icy eyes, stark against his bronzed skin, weren’t just a static blue—they moved, illuminated by a churning swirl of light and veins of shadow. Gods, he’s beautiful.”

Diem’s first encounter with Prince Luther foreshadows how her feelings for him will develop over the course of the novel. Her use of descriptive language to capture the architecture of his facial features creates a viscerally intense passage that reflects her physiological response to Luther’s presence and his “beauty.” However, these details are sharply balanced by her impression of his “icy eyes” and nose “like a broadsword’s blade,” which reveal her initial assumption that Luther is a cold, cruel person. Yet even these images are contrasted by more favorable, earthy expressions that foreshadow Luther’s actual warmth.

“If anyone should have known the truth, shouldn’t it have been me? Before Teller, before even Father, it had been the two of us, alone in the world. An unwed mother and her bastard infant. A part of me hated her for it, even though I knew she had done it for me. I knew in my heart, my soul, that my mother would do anything to protect me. Keep any secret. Make any deal. Tell any lie. And now, without her protection, I was being hauled toward all those truths I had been perfectly content to ignore, kicking and screaming all the way.”

Diem’s narration assumes a reflective, questioning tone as she tries to understand the truth about her mother and herself. In this moment, she is beginning the difficult process of redefining her sense of her childhood, thereby challenging the dominant family narrative. By examining her origins and the people around her, she undergoes a crucial stage of her quest for self-discovery and illustrates her desire to fully understand the world.

“The longer I stewed, the more I hated Luther. Loathed him. Wanted him to suffer in some slow, painful way. I wasn’t proud of it. Any good healer should be focused on ending suffering, not causing it. Then again, I hadn’t exactly chosen to be a healer. That path had been set for me—by my mother, by my circumstances, by my lack of viable alternatives.”

Diem’s emotional vacillations reflect her efforts to understand the tension between good and evil, and this inner volatility leaves her intensely conflicted. Although she feels hatred toward Luther, she also knows that healing and loving others is an important part of her identity. She is actively trying to discern right from wrong as she navigates her increasingly unpredictable world, but with each new realization of her society’s complexity, she takes a new step toward true maturity.

“The wolf was gone. No. Impossible. The wolf had been right there. I had seen it, I’d smelled it. I looked down at my hands again. They still shone with that same bizarre light, now fainter and fading fast. 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.”

Diem’s encounter with the wolf in the woods marks a crucial turning point in which she gains a new understanding of herself. Because Henri confirms that the wolf was real and not a hallucination, Diem must contend with the fact that she willed it to vanish using her still-unacknowledged magical powers. This moment therefore foreshadows the novel’s eventual confirmation that Diem is in fact a Descended who is on the verge of inheriting the Crown.

“My missing mother. The agreement between her and Prince Luther. Teller’s schooling. The wolf in the woods. The flameroot powder. Each question was a stone slab in a wall surrounding me on all sides, thick and ivy-coated like the one I’d seen encircling the palace gardens, a beautiful but impenetrable cage. My mind hurled itself at the barrier, clawing for answers, but my pathetic mortal fists only scraped and bled as the wall inched closer and closer, squeezing at my soul.”

Diem’s use of sensory detail and metaphor adds intensity to her explanation of the rage and desperation that she feels. Although her “cage” in this context is abstract, she feels deeply confined by the pressure of unanswered questions, and by describing her ignorance as a thick, impenetrable “wall,” she finally articulates the essence of what is wrong with her life as it stands. The first half of the passage appears in a series of fragments, capturing the rapid movement of Diem’s mind through her various challenges, while the latter half lapses into metaphoric, lyrical language that enacts Diem’s emotional complexities.

“Maybe that was exactly what I needed. The voice kept demanding that I fight. Maybe instead of fighting someone, what I needed was something to fight for. Maybe I could channel the temper smoldering inside me and direct it somewhere it could help someone, instead of slowly burning me to ash. And if Prince Luther or any other Descended were responsible for my mother’s disappearance, who better than the Guardians to help me find the truth?”

Henri’s invitation for Diem to join the Guardians of the Everflame grants Diem the possibility of gaining new meaning and purpose. She sees the group as a chance to fight for what she believes in, and this conviction leads to her naïve assumption that the Guardians will offer her a way to embody goodness and resist violence. While her moment of disillusionment on this point is yet to come, Henri’s proposition propels Diem into a new realm of experience, and she gains new confidence as she starts to make her own choices.

“‘What I know is the surest way to get someone their age to do something is to tell them they’re forbidden to do it. If you wish to keep them apart, forcing it will only drive them closer.’ I twisted my shoulders to face him fully. ‘My brother is the furthest thing from reckless. He is smart and thoughtful, and I trust his judgment. Perhaps you should try trusting your sister as well.’ I tapped a finger on his chest. ‘And if you think I would ever—’”

This scene of dialogue illustrates Diem’s work to claim her voice and stand up for what she believes in. She uses a courageous, self-assured tone in order to communicate her feelings to Prince Luther despite the associated risks involved in taking such a dominant stance. She is also denouncing the progeny laws and advocating for freedom of love and expression.

“With each hit of our blades, I felt my temper rise, my movements turning increasingly sloppy. I knew better than to bring anger into combat, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. Ever since giving up the flameroot, my emotions had become an out-of-control firestorm, threatening to char everything in its path.”

As Diem spars with Andrei, the mock battle becomes symbolic of her internal fight to gain her freedom and increase her understanding and self-expression. She is channeling her emotions into the exercise with her father in an attempt to control her temper, but the suppressed rage in her physical movements captures the entanglement of her feelings in her efforts at Balancing Love, Duty, and Personal Desire.

“She shrugged and tucked the coin purse back into her brassiere. ‘Suit yourself. But whatever you do or don’t do, sweetheart, do it for yourself. 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.’”

The woman whom Diem treats in Paradise Row offers the protagonist a few words of valuable insight into her romantic journey. The woman uses a heartfelt, gracious tone as she offers Diem her opinion on an alleged engagement to Henri. The woman’s outlook on sex, love, and romance contributes to the novel’s feminist subtext, as Cole uses such scenes as a way to advocate for a woman’s right to make her own decisions and live life on her own terms.

“Seeing the child die had cracked something fundamental inside me. How could I be so useless? How could I watch a murder and not be able to stop it? Healing now seemed like an absurdly frivolous pursuit. Healing was reactionary. Passive. Being a healer meant sitting idly by and waiting for someone to get hurt. I was sick of waiting. The time had come to fight. And I was ready.”

When Diem encounters the murderous Descended who kills his child and his mortal lover in Paradise Row, the violence of the incident awakens her desperation to find a decisive and proactive purpose. The drastic nature of her shift in perspective is conveyed when she suddenly describes her healing skills as “useless,” “frivolous,” and “passive,” as she venomously maligns a calling that has occupied her for quite some time. This moment conveys Diem’s desire to seize control of her fate and make active choices that she can believe in. She refuses to remain bound by duty and resolves to pursue her personal desires.

“Warmth spread through me—he’d never looked at me like this, not in an entire lifetime of knowing each other. This was something more than friendship or even love, something that went beyond merely being impressed. This was respect—the kind that could only be earned through trials and proof. I’d seen it in strangers’ faces when they looked at my parents or spoke of their illustrious careers, but I’d never felt it myself.”

In this passage, Diem’s reflections on how Henri sees her augment the differences between Henri and Luther as potential love interests. While Henri loves Diem, he doesn’t see her as an equal, and he only infrequently shows her the respect she is due for her courage and spirit. Diem is therefore beginning to see how the version of love that she knows with Henri might not be as comprehensive and unconditional as she once believed. Furthermore, the passage reveals that Diem wants more than friendship from a partner.

“A self-satisfied grin unfurled across my lips. Step two, complete. The confidence I projected was finally beginning to feel more real than pretend. First I’d stolen key documents from a powerful Descended arms dealer, and now I was roaming freely in the royal palace. Maybe I was born for the life of a Guardian after all.”

As Diem pursues her mission for the Guardians, she revels in a new sense of power and purpose, feeling confident and capable. Although she is alone, she grins to herself—an image that reflects her personal pride and her conviction that she is engaged in a meaningful pursuit. The image of her “roaming freely in the royal palace” also captures how happy Diem feels when she is free to make choices for herself.

“Your heart isn’t in it. Or it’s in it for all the wrong reasons. When you were a trainee, you always wanted to be out roaming the forests to gather ingredients or chatting up our most unsavory patients to hear about their lives. […] You are like family to me. I want you to be happy. I want you to have a life that fulfills you.”

Maura uses a direct, blunt tone in these lines of dialogue to communicate a mix of concerns and advice to Diem. Although Diem isn’t always treated with this same respect, given that her loved ones are less than honest with her, Maura does her the courtesy of speaking in a heartfelt, authentic manner that conveys her genuine love and care. Maura’s words also foreshadow Diem’s later decision to quit her job as a healer because it isn’t her true calling.

“Henri walked me home, beaming the entire way like I’d given him the fervent yes I knew he deeply desired. I buried the growing disquiet in my soul down, down, down, as far as I could dig. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I just needed time. Maybe.”

Diem’s use of repetition, anaphora, and descriptive language illustrates her emotional conflict when Henri proposes again. While Henri is “beaming,” Diem is burying her true feelings of borderline dismay. The image of a beaming light also suggests an emotional outpouring, while the image of Diem burying her “growing disquiet” suggests emotional suffocation. The uncertainty inherent in her wording also conveys Diem’s habit of negating her own feelings in her efforts to please others.

“‘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.’ My stomach felt leaden. His words were beautiful. Perfect. Exactly what a person in love should say, exactly how a person in love should feel.”

Andrei’s story about his and Auralie’s romance complicates Diem’s understanding of her own feelings, making her realize that she does not have similar sentiments for Henri. She has been Balancing Love, Duty, and Personal Desire throughout her adult life, and she now wants some sense of certainty about her romantic future. She goes to Andrei because despite her new maturity, she still sees him as her proverbial guide. However, his advice brings her little comfort because it illustrates the ways in which her own romantic relationship is falling short of the ideal.

“And, of course, there was the small matter of all of this being entirely my fault. My only path was forward, with empty pockets and open hands. I’d come this far, risked this much—I couldn’t walk away without trying everything.”

Diem assumes a determined, resilient tone as she endeavors to make it to the armory to save the bombing victims. Diem is driven by her guilt and shame and therefore wants to help the Descended victims because she wants to atone for her mistakes and pursue good deeds rather than harmful ones. This moment marks a turning point in her quest for self-discovery, as she is deciding to take another risk in order to find out what she really believes and who she really is.

“Even if I survived another dawn, my career as a healer was over—there would be no going back now that I’d seen firsthand the bloody cost of breaking my vow. My mother was likely dead, my life now bound in service to the wicked King and his miserable heir. Henri probably hated me, and even if he didn’t, would the guardians force him to choose between us? Would I win that fight, when he was so passionate about the cause he’d inked permanently into his skin? Was that a fight I even wanted to win?”

The smoky armory incites Diem’s harried stream of consciousness and despairing thoughts about her fate, and she tries desperately to sort through a series of seemingly unanswerable questions. Because the setting acts as an external reflection of her internal state of mind, the smoke in the armory is akin to Diem’s foggy thoughts. Letting herself succumb to the smoke thus shows how immobilizing Diem’s existential questions have become.

“We both froze in place as something ancient, something profound passed between us. It was a primal force that transcended word and thought, as powerful as a crack of lightning, a child’s first breath, the endless depth of the sea. It was not of this world but entirely woven within it. 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.”

Diem’s use of figurative language and vivid imagery conveys the full meaning of her bond with Luther. Her description of a “primal force that transcend[s] word and thought” emphasizes the inexpressible intensity of the magical connection between them in this moment of adversity. She also compares their connection to “lightning,” “breath,” and “the sea,” and these metaphors suggest the elemental nature of their bond, foreshadowing the sustainability of their relationship.

“I couldn’t stop staring at him. His relaxed, almost lazy posture. His full, upturned lips, and the tenderness that crinkled his eyes at the mention of the gryvern. His loose wool trousers and his untucked, slightly rumpled shirt, hanging open part way down his chest to reveal more of the scar that slashed his body in two. It was casual, unpretentious, and entirely incompatible with the hardened royal heir I’d come to know. It felt like I was seeing Luther—not His Royal Highness Prince Luther Corbois of Lumnos, but just Luther—for the very first time, and I had no idea how to feel about it.”

Diem’s more nuanced observations of Luther begin to change her perception of his character, rendering them more favorable. When she sees him in an alternate setting, this shift in context helps Diem to discern Luther’s true nature rather than relying on her own assumptions about the Descended. She vividly describes his attire, appearance, and body language because she is actively trying to make sense of who he really is.

“The truth was I no longer knew how I felt about anything. A month ago, I had been focused. I had clear, attainable goals. Find my mother. Keep Teller in school. Serve as the palace healer. Help the Guardians. I may not have loved my place in the world, but at least I knew where it was. Now, though my future was smoke, opaque and foreboding, threatening to suffocate me alive if I didn’t find some way out.”

Diem uses an honest, vulnerable tone in this passage, indicating her newfound ability to interrogate her interiority with an open mind. She is acknowledging her dichotomies and reflecting on how her life has changed and how these changes have influenced her sense of self. This moment shows Diem’s personal growth. Furthermore, the use of the smoke imagery and metaphor conveys the idea that Diem feels that her future will be amorphous at best.

“The childhood love we’d once shared had been simple and pure. We’d chased each other in the forests, picked wild berries and swum naked in the sea, teased each other and imagined the great journeys we might take together one day. I wanted more than anything to get back to that effortless joy, but the harder I reached for it, the further it seemed to float away, a shrinking point on the sunset horizon.”

Diem’s reflective tone suggests her longing to return to her childhood innocence. Her discussion of the “effortless joys” of her youth raises a sense of wistful nostalgia, and it is clear that she is actively idealizing the high points of her past. However, she fully acknowledges that such idyllic scenes have retreated beyond her grasp now that she must contend with the harsher, more complex world of adulthood. As she accepts the impossibility of retrieving her childhood, Diem laments that she cannot unlearn the hard lessons that she has learned about herself and her world.

“Even in the aftermath of my mother’s disappearance, when her empty chair was a constant and horribly painful reminder of her absence, our house remained a place of hope—a lighthouse in the dark, stormy sea that might someday draw her safely back home. Until today. Today, for the first time, every stoop felt like a steady march into the frozen tundra of hell. Everything was wrong. Everything.”

Diem’s altered regard for her childhood home symbolizes her altered state of mind. This moment also captures the symbolic resonance of this particular setting. Indeed, Diem used to see her house as a safe place; the lighthouse metaphor therefore captures how comfortable and reliable this setting once was for her. At the same time, the image of “the frozen tundra” conveys how unfamiliar and hostile the setting has become since she has discovered a new sense of herself beyond this insular realm.