Chapter
Ten
leanor and I spent the morning plotting a plan of attack for the Ascension Ball. More accurately, I sat in a stupor, mentallyE processing my conversation with Luther, while Eleanor kindly pretended not to notice as she deliberated over the most strategic combination of dresses, jewelry, and hair.
I didn’t tell her about Henri or Aemonn, the latter because I was embarrassed, and the former because I had no answers for the questions I knew she would ask.
The need to tell Henri—and my father—about the Crown was growing heavier by the second. The last thing I wanted was for either of them to find out through idle gossip, but no amount of standing in front of the mirror and wishing it away had made the Crown so much as flicker, and I couldn’t very well walk into Mortal City with the Crown on my head and a pack of Royal
Guards at my hip.
I had to find a solution... and soon.
Eleanor and I had moved to our favorite spot on the back terrace of the gardens, basking in the afternoon sun. After confiding that she’d always wanted to be an artist, I’d coaxed her into showing me her work. Her drawings were impressively realistic, so vivid they seemed to move across the page.
Having then begged her to sketch me a portrait of Sorae, the one thing about the Crown I was unequivocally grateful for, we’d lured the gryvern to the terrace with a barrel of waxy green apples that I was now waving enticingly to hold her attention.
“Tell me about your cousins,” I said.
Eleanor squinted, studying Sorae’s features. “Which cousins? I’ve got hundreds.”
“Just the important ones.”
“Who do you consider important?”
“I’m more interested in who you consider important.”
I jerked away from Sorae’s snout as she nipped at the apple in my hand. She huffed and whipped her tail in frustration.
Despite her menacing appearance, the beastly tantrum was so endearing I gave in and tossed her the fruit.
“She’s spoiled enough as it is, you know,” Eleanor warned with a laugh. “Speaking of spoiled... I know you’re already familiar with cousin Aemonn.”
I shot her a look at the suggestive eyebrows she wiggled in my direction. “He’s been very welcoming, though he doesn’t seem to be popular around here.”
“On the contrary, he’s very popular. Just not with the male cousins. They’ve lost many a prospective lover to his winks and smiles—and Aemonn never lets them forget it.”
The memory of our unsettling garden stroll had my smile fading. “Is he trustworthy?”
She shrugged. “He’s ambitious. His magic is weak, so he’s had to make up for it with charm and wits.” She flipped her hair back and smirked. “Just like me. I’m not surprised he was the first to try to get in your good graces. He knows how to court power.”
“And should I let him in my good graces?”
She chewed thoughtfully on the tip of her pencil. “He could be helpful to you. He knows the other Houses well, and he always has the best court gossip—other than me, of course. But everything with Aemonn is an exchange. Whatever he gives, he always demands something of greater value in return. It may be enough for him that you’re the Queen and he wants your favor, but he could just as easily sell gossip about you as sell it to you.”
I groaned. How had I managed to spill one of my most sensitive secrets to a man infamous for selling them?
“What about his brother?” I asked.
“Taran? Oh, they’re opposites in every way. Aemonn is always polished, always planning. Taran is a wild boar let loose in a glass maze.” She smiled fondly. “You’ll like him. He doesn’t care one bit about court scheming. With his strong magic and his father being the King’s brother, he could have had any title he wanted, but he refused them all. I’ve always wondered how he came from that family line—it drives his father mad that he has no interest in power.”
Sorae impatiently pawed at the soil, clawing a divot into the grass. I tossed an apple into the air, and within a blink, it
disappeared between her jaws with a juicy crunch.
“Who else?” I asked.
“There’s Lily of course. She’s a sweetheart. Though I worry she may be too naive about what it means to be the only Princess.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Remis is plotting to marry her off the moment she comes of age.”
A knot formed in my gut at the thought of Lily being sold off like chattel—and what I knew it would do to Teller. “Luther would let that happen?”
“Luther would burn the palace down before he’d let her get forced into it.” She gave a deep sigh. “But Lily is devoted to making her parents proud. If Remis wants her to do it, I fear she’ll convince herself it’s what she wants, too.”
It reminded me so much of my brother, who had always been quick to accept my parents’ demands without complaint. I still wasn’t sure he even wanted to attend the Descended school, but my mother had proposed it with such conviction that I suspected he’d agreed just to make her happy.
It was no wonder, then, that he and Lily had become so close. But it also made their bleak future all the more inevitable.
“What about Alixe?”
“She spends all her time with the Royal Guard, so we aren’t very close, but she’s certainly worth knowing. She would behead me for saying this—literally, I think—but she’s just as ambitious as Aemonn. She’s simply more interested in earning her way up by merit rather than scheming or birthright.”
I scratched at Sorae’s scaly jowls, and she leaned into my hand with a contented trill. “What’s her story? She seems more like a soldier than a lady of court.”
“Her father is highly ranked in the Emarion Army. Her mother died young, so her father used to take her along on his assignments. I suppose she got used to being around soldiers and battle. She told me once that she dreamed of leading an army someday. I still believe she might. No one would stand a chance against her.”
I swallowed tightly. If Alixe did lead an army, I was likely to be on the wrong side of it.
“Are female soldiers common among the Descended?” I asked. “That’s rare for a mortal.”
She nodded. “Since we fight with magic, even a petite woman can overpower a big brute. Though I’d wager Alixe could take a man out with her bare hands just as easily as her magic.”
Even from what little I’d seen, I had no doubt that was true. Alixe reminded me so much of myself—or at least the me I’d dreamed of becoming.
“You haven’t mentioned Luther,” I noted.
Eleanor gave me an intrigued look. “I didn’t think I needed to. You two already seem so close.”
“We’re not,” I shot back a little too quickly. “I barely know him.”
She arched one of her delicate, expressive eyebrows. “Luther is... hmm, how to explain him? Sometimes I think he was born one thousand years old. He had the future of Lumnos on his shoulders even before his magic came in. Every now and then, I see glimpses of the man he might have been in another life, but it’s buried too deep under his obligations to the realm and the Crown and the House. He’s so consumed by duty, there’s no room left for anything else.”
There was a sadness in her tone that tugged at my heart. The picture beginning to form of Luther’s upbringing was a grim one, lacking in the affection and joy that had been such a staple of my family home.
It explained so much about him—his coldness, his obsession with titles and protocol—but it also made him an enigma. If his lifelong loyalty was to his family, why help my mother? Why help me?
Eleanor grinned cheekily. “Every year I tell him the only birthday present I want is to see him get so drunk that he finally lets loose. Taran’s the only one who has seen it, and he swears it’s a riot.”
I tried to picture the brutally serious, eternally brooding Prince as a giggling drunk. My mind came up blank, the prospect
too impossible even to imagine.
But there had been moments...
The luminous thrill in his eyes when I’d released my power. The morning after he’d rescued me from the armory—his casual smile and candid stories about Sorae. The smirk that peeked through whenever he found a way to get under my skin.
Eleanor was right—there was something else hiding beneath Luther’s facade. Someone else.
Perhaps he had been telling the truth when he said he intended to serve the Crown rather than wear it. Maybe seeing my power unleashed had been a confirmation for both of us that this was real and not some dream that we would awake from.
For me, it had been like finding iron chains on my wrists, anchoring me to the undying ground while my mortal beloveds drifted away in the current of time. But for Luther, perhaps it had been like discovering his chains were finally broken.
Or perhaps I was buying too easily into a carefully crafted lie he wanted me to believe.
“He must have been looking forward to being King and not having to answer to anyone,” I said. “I can’t imagine he’s pleased that his father’s bargain means he can’t raise a Challenge against me.”
A guttural rumble rolled from Sorae’s throat at the implication.
Eleanor set her sketchbook in her lap. “If you believe that, why do you allow him to advise you so closely?”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, I suppose. And closer still if you don’t know which is which.” It was
the most honest answer I dared to give.
She tapped her pencil to her temple and smiled. “You’re catching on to the rules of court very quickly, Your Majesty.”
I laughed, though my chest puffed with pride at her compliment. “Besides, Luther isn’t my advisor. You’re my only one.”
The pencil dropped from her hand like a stone. “I am?” From the way she gaped at me, one would have thought I’d told her I was rebuilding the palace with leaves and paste.
“Why, did Luther tell you otherwise?” My eyes rolled upward. “Just because he follows me around and tells me what to do at all times does not mean—”
“N-no,” she stammered, blinking rapidly. “I just—I assumed... Luther, Aemonn, they’re members of the Crown Council, and I...” Her shoulders curved inward, as if she feared she was taking up too much space. “I’m truly the only one?”
I sat beside her on the low marble bench and nudged her with my knee. “They might have advised the King, but I need advisors I can trust. When I asked you why you offered to help me, you didn’t give me the story I wanted to hear. You told me the truth. I won’t soon forget that, Eleanor. If those men want to advise me, then they’re the ones who should be taking lessons from you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, barely audible. Her curls fell into a curtain that hid her face as she hunched over her sketchbook, but not before I caught a glisten under her long lashes.
She sniffled softly. “No one has ever believed in me before. All I’ve ever been is a silly, frivolous girl with weak magic and nothing to offer.”
Something in her response plucked a string inside me, its low note resonating in my ears.
“They want us to feel small, Eleanor. They want us to be quiet, be predictable, be unimportant, behave. Then they make us think we deserve it. But I think they’re just terrified we’ll stop listening to them and start listening to each other. And do you know why they’re so scared of women like us?”
Our gazes met, two sets of glittering eyes shining in shared determination.
“Why?” she asked.
My answering grin was positively wicked.
“Because they damn well should be.”
Sorae snapped her teeth with an insistent yip. Though she might only have been impatient for me to toss another apple, a part of me wondered if my clever gryvern wasn’t listening—and agreeing.
Eleanor swiped at her cheeks and gave me a smile that radiated the light of Blessed Lumnos herself. “Diem Corbois, I’m so very glad that you’re my Queen.”
MY DISCUSSION with Eleanor had improved my spirits. Though my head was still buried with the grief I’d felt the evening prior, somewhere under the dark soil, a seed of hope was sprouting to the surface.
As Queen, I could help people. I could help mortals, of course, but I was starting to realize that I could help the Descended, too. The good ones—the worthy ones, however few they may be. Centuries of archaic, unjust traditions ruled this realm, and perhaps I alone had the power to end them.
If I could survive the Challenging.
Those thoughts circulated in my head as I walked through the palace. Eleanor had left to meet with friends in another House, promising to return with news on what rumors of the new Queen were being traded among the elite social circles.
Luther, my persistent shadow, had gone curiously missing, and it was still hours before Lily and Teller would be done with school.
Even my usual escort of guards was gone, having been scaled back after my official acceptance of House Corbois. I found myself, for the very first time, free to roam the gigantic estate that had become my new home—alone.
That was my fate. Life in this palace. Alone.
As alone as one could be, surrounded by hundreds of strangers vying for my attention.
“Ah, there you are, Your Majesty.”
“Remis,” I said, giving him a polite nod in greeting.
“What a pleasant surprise. My son claimed you were too busy to meet with me today.”
So Luther was trying to keep me from his father.
Interesting.
I kept my reaction casually indifferent. “Is there something you need to discuss?”
“I wanted to formally welcome you to House Corbois.” He gave a stiff bow. “Blessed Mother Lumnos has honored us with many generations of service to the realm. We all look forward to continuing this great tradition at your side.”
Remis was a consummate diplomat. His features radiated cordiality, and the rich smoothness of his voice could put anyone at ease. His posture was approachable, yet still deferential. By all appearances, he looked thrilled to have me around.
It was only the flicker of tension in his jaw—a trait he shared with his son—that exposed what I knew to be the truth.
“I’m sure you do,” I said with a sweet smile.
Low on his cheek, a muscle twitched.
“I take it my son informed you that the King’s funeral will take place in two days’ time.”
“He has. Aemonn was kind enough to tell me of the Ascension Ball, as well.”
His smile was warm caramel, thick and honeyed. Nothing like the brightness of his son’s, rare as it might be. “I’m pleased to hear they have heeded my orders to make themselves useful to you.”
“So many of my new cousins have been eager to offer their help. I wasn’t aware I had you to thank for that.”
Another twitch.
“As your Regent, I only wanted to—”
“The late King’s Regent,” I corrected. “I’ve not yet chosen mine.”
His mask faltered at last. His lips remained curved, his eyes crinkled, but the warmth in his features dissipated as if chilled by a winter gust.
“If you get to reign, Your Majesty. There are many obstacles to overcome to ensure such a happy day comes to pass.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So many? I hear a Challenge to a Corbois Crown is almost unheard of. I hope you’re not suggesting your House can’t provide the protection our deal promised.”
Something wild and dangerous flashed briefly in Remis’s eyes—another trait I had seen too frequently in his son.
“It isn’t the Corbois name alone that wields such influence. It’s the depth of our relationships across all nine realms. The many enemies one stands to make, if one dares to cross us.”
He delivered the threat with the same offhanded lightness as he might discuss the weather.
A true diplomat, indeed.
“And, of course,” he rushed on, “we have wisdom acquired through our many years of service. While our youngest members may be helpful, the elder Corbois have much sage counsel to offer, should you be open to it.”
The urge to continue provoking him was strong. It was hard not to look at him and think of all the injustices done to the mortals under his watch as Regent.
But timing was everything. While I wanted to keep Remis and his kin unsure of their position so they focused more on winning me over than digging into my mortal life, I didn’t want to go far enough to make an enemy of them.
Yet.
I gave him my most grateful smile. “Only a fool would turn down such a valuable gift. I always welcome your guidance, Regent.”
The tension dropped in his shoulders, his expression regaining its charm. “I’m pleased to hear that. Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss strategy for the House Receptions?”
I faltered a beat.
“House Receptions?” I repeated.
“Private meetings with the heads of each of the Twenty Houses. They are the most vital step in avoiding a Challenge.” He arched a single brow. “Surely my son has begun preparing you for them.”
“He has not,” I clipped. “All the more reason to more closely heed your counsel, it seems.”
It was the right thing to say—at least if Remis’s triumphant smirk was any indication.
“I beg you to forgive my son’s error, Your Majesty. I’ll have a stern word with him.”
“Please do. Let him know that his Queen does not appreciate him withholding vital information that she would dearly like to know.” I flashed a smirk of my own. “Be sure and use those exact words.”
He gave another exaggerated bow, the dip of his head barely concealing his smug self-assurance. “Until tomorrow, Your Majesty.”
I spun on my heel, rushing for the nearest door. Even I could only feign so much confidence in one day before I succumbed to the mess I felt on the inside, and the idea of meeting with the most powerful Descended in Lumnos—meetings so important that Remis thought we needed a strategy—had me close to my limit.
A throat cleared behind me. “Your Majesty—I believe that way leads to the servants’ passages.”
Shit.
“Yes, I’m aware,” I lied cheerily, waving a hand in the air as I disappeared behind the door. “A Queen must know every inch of her palace!”
I FOUND myself halfway down a dark, nondescript hallway. Cabinets lined each wall, overflowing with buckets and rags, piles of crystal glassware and silver cutlery, linens in a kaleidoscope of colors, and fat, waxy candles of every size. Windowless walls stretched left and right, lit with glowing orbs that floated at far intervals.
I walked up to the nearest one and gazed at it, struck by the odd feeling of familiarity that thrummed in my chest. It felt like a tiny part of me had been plucked from my ribs and hung from the ceiling.
Whose magic fueled these lights? Was there a servant somewhere whose job it was to illuminate these halls with their powers? Or did it all somehow stem from the very Crown atop my head?
“I heard she’s already sleeping with Aemonn. Didn’t take her very long.”
Footsteps drifted from my left, along with the quiet murmur of voices.
“I heard she killed the King. One of the guards said she attacked him the day he died.”
My jaw clenched. A group of servants was approaching—and evidently gossiping about me. A part of me wanted to hold my ground and confront them, but a far larger part filled with panic as I searched for an exit.
“The King was already dying. If she did finish him off, it was a mercy. Everyone knows he’d been wanting to go ever since his mate died.”
The voices grew louder. Through a cracked door, I caught sight of walls lined with divided shelves, many bursting with folded parchment or twine-wrapped boxes.
A mailroom—I remembered this from Eleanor’s tour. An opening on the room’s opposite corner led to the palace’s front halls.
“Well, I think she’s up to something. How is it possible she’s more powerful than Prince Luther, yet no one’s heard of her?
She has to be a—”
I slipped out just in time to avoid the servants as they passed down the hall. My lungs burned with a deep exhale of relief.
As I crept out of the mailroom, I grinned to myself at my narrow escape from certain humiliation, then turned to make my way to the foyer.
And ran straight into the chest of Henri Albanon.
