Chapter
Twelve
uther closed the door behind him, staring directly at Henri. His eyes were cold and soulless, the consummate icy Prince.L His jagged scar twitched like a bolt of angry lightning threatening to strike.
Henri rolled off me and hauled his pants up, his eyes bouncing between Luther and the floor. His face and bare chest were flushed a splotchy scarlet—embarrassment at being caught or fury at seeing Luther, or perhaps a mix of both.
The heat of shame coursed through my own cheeks. Neither man looked at me as I yanked my dress back to my shoulders and smoothed the skirts down my legs.
What Henri and I had done wasn’t wrong. I was a grown woman. I had every right to be intimate with the man I had just convinced to marry me.
So why did I suddenly wish I could take it back?
Henri grabbed his tunic and pulled it over his head. Luther’s sharp focus marked every movement I remembered the blade hiding at Henri’s waist, and the murderous hate that had dripped from his eyes in the hallway earlier. This could too easily turn into a bloodbath.
I slipped off the bed and took Henri’s hand. “I’ll walk you out,” I said, my voice deceptively calm.
“I would not recommend that.” Luther’s tone was flat, his words clipped. He still wouldn’t look at me. “A guard saw the two of you enter. He’s waiting outside to escort Mr. Albanon from the palace.”
Dread broke through at the easy familiarity with which Luther said Henri’s name. I’d been so concerned with talking Henri out of slaughtering Luther—what if the feeling was mutual? If Luther recognized him from the day he’d killed that child, would he be willing to hurt Henri to keep it quiet?
I carefully positioned myself between the two men. “Can this guard be trusted? If anything happens to Henri,” I warned, my voice trailing off.
At last, Luther’s frosty glare slid down to rest on me, sending a chill down my spine. “It won’t.”
I took a deep breath and turned to Henri. “You should go,” I urged gently.
His eyes blazed. “Why should I go? I’m to be your King. These men should be answering to us.”
Luther’s spine stiffened so forcefully I could almost hear the steel-strong bones snapping beneath his bronzed skin.
“Please, Henri,” I pleaded. “Let me arrange some things first. I’ll send word as soon as I can.”
Though he nearly snarled with displeasure, he scowled and relented. I kept myself planted between them as Henri moved to exit.
I reached for his fingers, wanting to feel the familiar brush of his skin one last time, and his hand jerked away. He didn’t bother to look back as he followed the waiting guard around the corner and out of sight.
I stared down the hall. I could still feel his touch on my thighs, my lips still swollen from his kiss. But now, without the
warmth of him against me, I felt...
Confused. Unsure.
The weight of Luther’s attention wasn’t helping. I didn’t dare look to see what judgment awaited me there.
“Whatever you’re thinking, keep it to yourself,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“You need to hear it.”
“My love life is none of your concern.”
“You are the Queen of Lumnos. Your love life is the entire realm’s concern.”
My jaw clenched so tightly my teeth creaked in protest.
“And you made it my concern when you—”
“I didn’t kiss you,” I hissed, whirling to face him, “you kissed me. Maybe I didn’t push you off as quickly as I should have, but that—”
“—wasn’t what I was going to say,” he said curtly. “You made it my business when you asked me to keep Aemonn silent
about Henri.”
My face flushed.
“But rest assured, my Queen, when I do kiss you, there will be no confusion. You will know that I have claimed you—and I
won’t have any desire to deny it.”
All of me flushed.
I swallowed. I hadn’t missed his choice of words. Not if I kiss you. Not in the rare and unlikely event I kiss you.
When I kiss you.
I looked away, unable to withstand the pale blue fire in Luther’s gaze. “Did Aemonn agree to stay quiet then?”
“For a price.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “What does he want?”
“You’ll bring him as your escort to the Ascension Ball. You’ll give him the first dance and stay at his side throughout the
evening.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t like it either, but it’s a simple enough req—”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—I can’t.”
Luther stilled. “Why?”
I cowered in the silence as long as I could bear, dreading the spring trap my next words would invariably trigger.
“I’ve accepted Henri’s marriage proposal. He’ll be escorting me as my betrothed.” I fidgeted with a dainty pearl bracelet Eleanor had insisted I wear. “I’m well aware how much you all despise mortals, but this choice is mine to make, Queen or not.”
Neither of us moved or spoke for several torturous, uncomfortable moments. Luther’s fists clenched and loosened at his sides. The air around him buzzed with angry magic, barely contained. His throat strained to hold back a deluge of disapproval.
I groaned. “Fine. Just say it.”
“Not here.”
Without warning, his hand closed around mine, his grip startlingly gentle despite his fury. He led me down the hallway to where our rooms sat in parallel. His palm pressed at the hollow of my back and nudged me to the right, away from my guards and into his private chambers.
He barked a command at the two men stationed at my chamber doors to reposition themselves at the far ends of the corridor. The door closed, followed by the metallic clink of a lock sliding into place.
Luther cast me a wary glance. “Wait here.”
I watched him stalk into a side antechamber, then turned to take in the surrounding space. I drew in a sharp breath—I’d been here before. I’d only passed through it briefly, but I recognized the room Luther had disappeared into as the bedroom I’d awoken in the morning after the armory attack.
Luther’s bedroom.
My naked body soaking in his bathtub.
My hand in his as I lay tucked between his sheets.
I fought to cage my wild thoughts as I took a closer look at the room. It was lightly appointed, with none of the gilded, ornamental touches that embellished most of the palace’s rooms, but despite its simplicity, the chamber had a warmth to it, a personalized comfort all its own.
Against one wall, a sturdy wooden desk was topped with half-written letters, its carved sides depicting the Kindred and their mortal lovers. Lumnos was featured at the center, locked in an embrace with the man she’d given up everything to follow into eternal night.
A sitting area with cozy leather armchairs was bordered by tall shelves of old books and small oil paintings on tiny easels.
A framed charcoal sketch of Lily sat atop a mahogany liquor cabinet with bottles in varying shades of brown. A pair of muddy boots lay on their side in a corner, and a jacket lay draped across a footrest.
In short, it felt like a home.
The room smelled so strongly of his woodsy, masculine musk. The scent transported me against my will to the memory of our shared ride on horseback—his broad hands splayed low on my stomach, his breath hot on my skin.
I swore under my breath at the disloyal thoughts. My body was all too willing to remind me that my interrupted tryst with Henri had left me lonely and wanting.
Flickering candlelight drew my attention to a small alcove across the room. Tucked into an arched niche sat a glossy marble bust of Lumnos, recognizable by the crown atop her head—a twin to the one I currently wore. The bust was surrounded by candles, aged flowers, and smooth, colorful stones.
Luther’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the room and stopped behind me.
“I didn’t realize you were so devout,” I said.
He didn’t answer for long enough that I turned to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the shrine, his face a portrait of reverence.
“Blessed Mother Lumnos spared me from death when I was very young. I vowed to give my life in service to her, to protect
her realm and its people. I used to believe...” His eyes moved to mine, and just as before, he appeared to be looking through me, as if seeing something far beyond my gaze.
He stopped and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced at the item in his hands before offering it to me. “Here.”
I took the book—small, barely larger than my palm, and bound in rich cognac leather. The paper inside was thin and crinkled with tiny nicks from being thumbed through many times over.
“What is this?” I asked as I opened it.
Luther said nothing.
Each page contained a rough sketch of a child’s face, along with a list of names and a description.
Emmaline, newborn, daughter to father Piotr of House Benette and mortal mother Harriet Bilkings. Ice blue eyes, straight blonde hair, fair skin. Daughter and mother delivered safely to Meros.
Diedrick, eight months, son to mortal father Carell Jenks and mother Wilmora of House Althiena. Royal blue eyes, thick red hair, birthmark on left elbow. Father and son delivered safely to Umbros.
Zalaric, seven years, son to father Jean of House Hanoverre and mortal mother Penna Greystoll. Navy eyes with light specks, black curly hair, dark brown skin. Mother executed. Son delivered safely to Umbros.
There were pages and pages of them. Most were newborns, but a few were older—adolescents mixed with the rare teenager, and one that had passed into adulthood.
The thump of my heart grew deafening in my ears.
At the end of the book, a tattered scarlet ribbon separated a new section. At first glance, the contents appeared the same— faces, names, descriptions—but each was marked with a thick red X across the page. And each was missing the final line: delivered safely.
“Luther, what is this?” I asked again, softer.
“My penitence.”
Our eyes met, and the pain in them sliced through me as sharp as any blade.
“You accused me of executing the half-mortal children as the Keeper of the Laws, and I denied it.”
“You smuggled them out,” I breathed. “All these children... you didn’t kill them—you got them out of Lumnos.”
He nodded silently, his shoulders falling as if letting out a breath he’d been holding for many, many years.
“And the ones in the back, with the red mark?”
His eyes dragged to the bust of Lumnos. “The ones I failed,” he said, the depth of his regret echoing in each awful word.
I flipped through the pages, unable to tear my attention from the miniature sketches. He had found a way to capture it somehow—their grief at the rejection by their parents, their King, and their homeland.
It could have been me. It would have been me, had my mother not hidden me among the mortals. Angry as I was over her secrets, there was no denying they’d kept me alive.
“This book is my death warrant,” Luther said quietly. “It’s evidence of treason a hundred times over. Even if you would forgive it as Queen, others would ensure I paid the price.”
“Never,” I blurted out, clutching the book protectively to my chest. “I would never reveal this, not to anyone. Ever.”
“I know. I trust you.”
I searched his face, his ever dispassionate features, trying to unearth some explanation for this man who continually defied my judgments.
“Luther, why show this to me now? What does this have to do with Henri?”
He worked his jaw, seeming reluctant to continue. “If your heart is set on this union, I will support you. But I would not be serving you with honor if I did not speak bluntly. The Descended will not accept a mortal King, Your Majesty. Not even as a Consort.”
I bristled. “I’m not asking their permission.”
His features turned sharp as glass. “Let me be clearer. If you present him as your betrothed at the Ascension Ball, Henri will not survive to see the Rite of Coronation. The Houses will stop at nothing to prevent a mortal taking the throne. They have killed Crowns’ mates for far less.”
My heart stilled, my mouth tasting of ash.
He walked closer and placed his hand on the book where it lay in my palms, his fingertips curling as they grazed my wrists.
“I showed you this because I need you to know I do not speak out of prejudice. I would put my life on the line to protect a mortal. I already have—many times.” His voice softened. “But if you take this step, I fear the Emarion Army itself could not protect him. And I do not wish to see one more person in this realm buried because of their bloodline.”
I should have been arguing, screaming that I would not be intimidated by the violence of bigots, vowing to raze the realm to cinders if anyone tried to hurt Henri.
But perhaps somewhere, deep within, I already knew the truth, because all I felt was the unbearable heaviness of a heart grieving a loss that my brain still refused to accept.
“You’re saying I have to let him go,” I said numbly.
“That is not my place.”
“Stop trying to be my advisor, Luther. Be my friend.” I looked up at him, eyes burning. “Are you saying I should walk away?”
Luther shifted his weight. “I’m saying...” He paused. Frowned. “If you love him...”
He looked up and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.
“Wait until you’re coronated,” he said finally. “Get through the Challenging, take the full authority of the Crown, then...” He let out a heavy, loaded sigh. “Then we’ll plan. If he is what you want, I’ll help you find a way.”
I wondered if he would make the same offer if he knew Henri had sworn to kill him. If he knew I had sworn to kill him,
too.
Something told me he would.
“I never imagined you to be such a romantic,” I said, offering up a weak smile that he returned, though it was achingly glum on both sides.
“There’s much you don’t yet know about me, Your Majesty.”
I’m beginning to see that, I mused to myself.
He looked over my shoulder to the marble bust that glowed in the flickering candlelight. “The Blessed Mother sacrificed her life to be with the man she loved. I fear she might strike me dead if I told you to walk away.”
He took a deep breath, then straightened and clasped his hands at his back.
“I was... mistaken. About the kiss.” He took a step away to put distance between us. “You were right. I kissed you, and you
pushed me away. I owe you an apology.”
Now who’s lying? I thought.
His brows carved deep. “I won’t let it happen ag—”
A gasp burst from my lips. “Is this the secret my mother knew—the one she was using against you?”
“Part of it,” he admitted.
“But she never would have revealed this. She wouldn’t put these children in danger.”
“I know. She helped me get them out of Lumnos.”
My brows flew up. “My mother helped you with this?”
“There were times when I couldn’t get away for long enough, or when the children were too young or too injured to travel alone. She would escort them to my contacts in the realms where half-mortals are not so persecuted.”
So many times, my mother had left town on a moment’s notice, sometimes disappearing for days with barely a note. It had been such a common occurrence that I hadn’t questioned it—until the day she vanished for good.
“Did my father know?”
“Doubtful. Beyond a few others who helped us, we agreed to tell no one, not even our families.”
Panic speared through me. “Is this why she disappeared? If she was caught delivering a child—”
“No,” he said quickly, his tone emphatic. “She left for her own reasons, not mine.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Why would my mother threaten to expose you if she was helping you?” I asked, frowning.
“Your mother had a habit of making grand threats she had no intention of following through on.” A spark of amusement gleamed in his eyes. “Just like her daughter.”
I shot him a scowl, though I couldn’t deny it—bravado and threats were my first resort when backed into a corner, and no one had seen more evidence of that than Luther. “If you knew she wouldn’t betray you, why help her? Why not call her bluff?”
“Because the work she and I did together was more important. Your mother and I did not always agree, nor did we often get along. But I respected her.” He took a step closer and leaned his face to mine with an earnest stare. “And I would never have hurt her.”
My mind whirled with all he’d just revealed. The highs and lows of my relationship with this puzzling man had become an exhausting sport. Luther was supposed to be the target of my plans. He, more than anyone, was supposed to fear my reign—and yet he had inexplicably, inconceivably, become my confidant. Even now, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to strike him dead or throw my arms around his neck and thank him.
Despite every reason I had to consider him my enemy, something in me yearned to trust him. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to his glow, even as my wings burned and curled in the intensity of his fire.
I took one last look at the book in my hands. I offered a silent prayer for the children recorded inside and pressed my lips to the cover before handing it back to him.
“Tell Aemonn I will accept the bargain for his silence. I’ll take him to the ball.”
