Chapter
Thirteen
y eyes traveled over the words I’d written. They were at once too much and not enough.M
H,
It was a mistake to ask you to attend the event that we spoke of. It’s not yet safe for you
here. Please don’t be angry. Protecting you is my only concern.
My hope for our future remains unchanged. I’ll send for you as soon as I can.
-D
There was so much I needed to say to Henri, but delivering this blow by cryptic, coded letter was bad enough. And I didn’t trust that Luther, or whatever courier he dispatched, would not find reading the Queen’s correspondence too strong a temptation to resist.
I folded the paper twice. Small drops of molten azure liquid fell from the candle I tilted over the letter’s seam. I did not dare use the royal seal. Instead, I pressed a small sprig of foxglove into the soft wax.
When we were young, Henri and I spent many afternoons wandering through the forest to collect foxglove for my mother’s use at the healer’s center while spinning tales of the great adventures we might have together someday.
I hoped Henri recognized the flower. I hoped he would understand what it meant—that I had not forgotten who I was. I hoped he had not forgotten, either.
“Here,” I sighed, holding the letter in the air. “He’s not going to be happy, so tell whoever you send to deliver it and get out of there quickly.”
Luther plucked the letter from my hand and tucked it into a pocket inside his jacket. “I’ll deliver it myself.”
“No!” I sprang out of my seat. That was a bloodbath waiting to happen. “Have someone else do it.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I carefully steadied my features. “You’re too recognizable. I don’t want anyone seeing you and connecting him to the Crown.” Not entirely a lie.
His mouth tightened. I couldn’t tell whether he was offended or amused. “I do know how to stay unseen. Especially among mortals.”
I stepped up to him with a wry smile and patted his chest where the letter lay inside his pocket. “Consider it a direct order.”
His steel-blue gaze dropped to where my fingers grazed his coat, hovering for long enough that I snatched my hand away.
“As you wish, my Queen.”
I busied myself tidying up the desk to avoid his too-heavy stare. “I need to go home. I have to speak with my father, and I
don’t want to do it here.”
“I would not recommend that.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“The entire realm is watching your every movement. If you leave the palace—”
“I’m sure you’ll find a solution.”
Luther made a quiet, rumbling sound. “At least wait until after the ball. The majority of guests will leave that morning, so there will be fewer gossips to avoid, and it will give me time to arrange a distraction.”
Not ideal, but there was no denying the spying eyes. I’d already sensed Sorae’s apprehension at the new faces arriving throughout the day, their intentions toward me setting her teeth on edge. As much as I needed to see my father, I couldn’t risk leading the Descended to his doorstep. I would have to hope Teller could keep him isolated a little longer.
I grabbed my overcoat and strolled for the door. “Fine. I’ll be in the dungeon. Try not to barge in and pick a magical fight with me this time, will you?”
IT TOOK me five attempts to slip into the dungeon unseen.
I had not fully appreciated how right Luther had been—how right he always seemed to be, to my tremendous irritation— about the influx of new guests. A constant stream of arrivals trickled through the palace foyer. Making it down any hallway without an awkward introduction was becoming nearly impossible.
When I finally slid through the dungeon doors and down the chilly depths of the spiral staircase, Lily and Teller were already tucked into one of the iron cells. They sat beside each other on a cot, speaking in voices too soft to hear. Their hands were just close enough to touch, Lily’s pinky finger curled around my brother’s. Even from a distance, I saw the adoration on his face as he watched her talk.
I cleared my throat. They leapt apart, both of their faces flushing with mottled scarlet. Teller shoved his hands into his pockets and stared everywhere but at me. Lily curtsied. Twice.
“Sorry I startled you,” I said, biting my lip to suppress my grin. They looked incredibly guilty for two people who’d been doing nothing more than talking.
“It’s, um, it’s so very good to see you again, Your Majesty,” Lily said, curtsying yet again.
“Really, Lily, you can call me Diem.”
“Yes of course, Your Maj—sorry.” She smiled sheepishly. “It’s a hard habit to break. Luther has always insisted we use our titles, even with friends and family.”
“Is that so?” I cocked my head, mischief brewing in my mind. “Well, I must be sure to use his titles when I address him.
What are they, exactly?”
She drew in a deep breath. “His Royal Highness Lord Luther Corbois, Most Honorable Keeper of the Laws, Warden of the Light, High General of the Guard, Esteemed Member of the Crown Council, Personal Advisor to the Crown and Prince of
Lumnos, Realm of Light and Shadows.”
I snorted. “Oh, that’s all?”
Teller launched into a coughing fit to hide his laughter from a very proud-looking Lily.
“Do those titles even mean anything?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone fights over them constantly.”
“I know a few,” Teller chimed in. “High General means he’s in charge of the Royal Guard. Crown Council is the Crown’s closest advisors.”
Lily scrunched her nose. “It’s supposed to be. King Ulther just put his brothers and their sons on it.”
“The Keeper of the Laws hands out punishments for those who disobey the Crown,” Teller continued. “And they handle the, um...” He shuffled his feet. “The executions.”
I thought of the children from Luther’s journal and my heart squeezed tight. “What is Warden of the Light?”
“That’s the big one,” Lily answered with a hushed, almost reverent tone. “There are two—Warden of the Light is the Crown’s representative in public. Warden of the Shadows handles more private matters.”
“But what do they do?”
“Anything they want, really. Whatever a Warden orders carries the weight of the Crown. Luther always played it down and said he was just a messenger, but Father says being Warden is like being another King. Unless the Crown contradicts them, their word is as good as law.”
I tried to imagine anyone I trusted enough to exercise that power on my behalf. A week ago, I might have looked to my parents. Now, in light of the secrets they’d kept, the truths of my identity they’d denied me... that betrayal was an open wound that still needed tending.
Teller would make a fine Warden someday. He had every quality a leader should—a bright intellect, a calm temper, and a compassionate spirit—and I trusted him without reserve. But he was young, and his eyes had not yet taken on the weary shadow of someone who has seen what evil the world contains. I would protect him from that for as long as I could.
And then there was Henri. I had asked him to be my King Consort. I wasn’t sure what authority that carried, but at the very least, it should mean I trusted him enough to rule in my absence... shouldn’t it?
I shoved away the unease nipping at my heels. “Who is Warden of the Shadows?”
“Uncle Garath,” Lily answered.
Aemonn’s father. The pompous, sneering jerk who had looked at me as if my half-breed blood tainted the Crown itself. He had the power to speak for the Crown—to speak for me?
“I thought the Regent had the authority of the Crown, not the Wardens,” I said.
She shook her head. “Father can only step in as Regent when the Crown is incapacitated or in the period before a new Crown is coronated. Otherwise, the Regent has no authority at all.”
No wonder Remis had been happy to throw his son to the wolves to win me over. He’d had a taste of power these past months during the King’s illness, and I very much doubted he wanted to give it back.
Teller cocked his head at me. “Diem, what happened after we left last night?”
Lily clapped her hands together and grinned, bouncing on her toes. “Oh yes! Did you use your magic? What kind do you have? Is it both light and shadow, like Luther?”
My throat went dry.
I’d spent all day sweeping the emotions of last night into the dark, dusty corners of my head, brushing the shattered bits of my grief into neat little heaps to be dealt with some other day. But Teller’s question was like a door left ajar on a windy day.
The sudden breeze of it rushed in and stirred all my careful work into a suffocating cloud.
I felt the emptiness return to my eyes, the hollow weight tug on my heart. I wanted to be strong for Teller, but it was all so much, and I was still so tired.
“Do you have magic?” he asked, his voice softer. Nervous.
My chin dipped slightly. “It seems I do.”
Lily was jumping, squealing, congratulating me, firing off questions. It reminded me of her brother’s unexpected glee at my explosion of power. Even Teller, for a brief moment, seemed elated for me. His eyes widened in wonder, lips curving into an awestruck smile.
And then I saw it. The moment his thoughts aligned with my own, and he realized what this meant for me. For us. For our
family.
For our future.
For the first time in my little brother’s life, I saw the light go out in his eyes. If I thought I’d hit my darkest moment before, I was so very wrong.
“Lily?” I rasped. “Would you mind if Teller and I spoke alone?”
Her celebrating paused, and she seemed to become aware of the shift in both of us. “Oh—yes, of course. I’ll just, um, go upstairs for a while.”
She left without another word, though I caught her reach out and squeeze Teller’s hand as she brushed past him. He and I stood in the dim silence for what felt like a lifetime, locked in the dawning of one dreadful realization after another.
“So this is real,” he said. “After the Crown, I knew it was, of course, but... I thought, maybe...”
“Me too.” I swallowed. “Until last night, I didn’t...” I couldn’t finish. I didn’t have to—we both understood.
He took a slow step forward, then another, then he rushed to me and threw his arms around my neck.
I felt his tears, warm and wet, against my cheek, or maybe they were my own. And I felt the tremors of his fear, the dying
light of his hope.
Or maybe it was my own.
We held each other for a long time, weeping and processing, our hearts breaking in unison in the cavernous darkness. Under the weight of the exhaustion that had taken up permanent residence in my soul, all my walls splintered and shattered into a fine powder.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, half hoping the words wouldn’t reach his ears. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“If anyone can, it’s you,” he said roughly. “You’ve always been able to do anything, no matter how frightening.”
“This isn’t climbing a big tree or exploring some new cave, Tel. I’m twenty years old. I’ve barely lived. I have no business being Queen.”
He pulled back and clamped his hands on my shoulders. His own eyes were wet and rimmed with red, but his voice was steady. “If Lumnos chose you, there must be a reason. There’s something she sees in you, something you’re meant to do. You
have to trust her.”
“Since when do we trust a Kindred?”
He grinned and squeezed my arms. “Since she had the good sense to pick a Bellator.”
I gave a weak laugh between sniffles, feeling the crushing dread ease the tiniest bit. “I’m not so special, Teller. The Crown just goes to whoever has the strongest magic.”
“And who gets the strongest magic? They’ve spent centuries trying to breed the most powerful offspring, and it never worked the way they wanted it to. Look at Luther and Lily—they’re siblings, but he’s powerful and she isn’t. Maybe that’s not a coincidence. Maybe there’s a reason you and Luther got so much more magic than anyone else.”
I pulled away and dropped my face in my hands, overwhelmed by the glowing burden on my head. I’d done a fine enough job of putting on a grand display of swagger to the Descended, but alone with Teller, I felt like a child playing dress up in comically oversized clothing.
He pulled at my wrists. “How can I help?”
“No. I don’t want you mixed up in this world with these people. They’re dangerous.”
“Mother said the same thing to you, and look how well that turned out. Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right.
Besides, I’m already in this world, and I have been for a lot longer than you. You’re the one playing catch-up.”
We exchanged the kind of smirk and glare that only a too-clever little brother and an exasperated older sister could fully
appreciate.
“Let me help you,” he insisted.
I blew out a shaky breath and tried to summon confidence back into my bones. “I’m meeting with the heads of the Twenty Houses after the ball. Can you gather some information about them? Especially how they feel about mortals and half-mortals.”
A shadow of resentment drifted over his face. “That’s easy enough. Before you, the kids at school would remind me daily how their families felt about mortals like me.”
I froze. “What do you mean ‘before me’?”
“They know I’m the Queen’s brother now.” He saw my look of horror and shrugged with a wry smile. “It was obvious once every Corbois suddenly began treating me like their closest friend.”
I swore under my breath. “Do you think the news has reached Father?”
His smile dropped away. “Not yet. But you need to tell him. If he finds out from anyone else...”
“I know.” A lump rose in my throat. “Luther asked me to wait until after the ball. Can you keep Father away from town until then?”
“I’ll try, but...” He ran a hand through his dark auburn curls, avoiding my eyes. “He hasn’t been at home much. Ever since you two fought, he’s been spending his time alone in the forest.”
The knot inside me sank like a heavy stone. I needed to make things right with my father. The years we had left together now felt urgently fleeting.
“I should go.” I sighed, glancing at the stairwell. Somehow I felt safer and happier in the gloomy dark of the dungeon than the bright sunny hallways that awaited me upstairs. I pulled him in for a final hug. “Teller,” I started, and my voice cracked.
“I know,” he murmured, squeezing me with all his strength. “I love you, too.”
“Even if I’m a soulless Descended monster like the rest of them?” I whispered.
“Even then.” He pulled back and grinned. “Can I see your magic before I go?”
Using my magic was the last thing I wanted. The reminder of the loss it signified was still too fresh. But when I looked at Teller and saw a glimmer of curiosity shining through his sadness, I knew I had to at least try.
“Of course,” I mumbled, forcing a smile. “You’ll have to stand far away. I can’t control it yet.”
He obeyed, crossing the room and bounding halfway up the staircase, his face excitedly aglow.
I focused on the space in front of me and tried to remember what I’d done to pull the magic out, what trigger had finally uncorked the voice’s bottled wrath.
It had been silent ever since. The thought of inviting it back into my head set my hands instantly trembling.
I flexed my fists, trying to conjure the icy heat I’d felt or the tingling thrum of the magic’s energy, but my palms only felt clammy and bare.
I remembered how Luther had provoked me, how he’d played on my own guilt and insecurities until I’d snapped. I tried to summon those feelings again, internally goading myself for every stupid, reckless thing I’d done over the past few weeks. The
list of options was long.
Nothing happened. Not even a flicker.
And I loved it.
No angry voice, no pounding magic. I felt blissfully ordinary. Not a Queen, not even a Descended, just... me.
And as much as I wanted to make Teller happy, I couldn’t bear to let go of this feeling, however temporary, of being a normal, forgettable, wholly unremarkable mortal. The very thing I had once feared becoming, I now clung to with feverish hands.
“I think I used it up last night,” I lied. “I guess I need more time to rest and restore it.”
“Oh. Right, of course.” He gave a casual shrug, though his disappointment was clear. “Another day, then.”
“Sure.” I offered a tight smile. “Another day.”
I couldn’t help hoping that day never came.
