Chapter
Fourteen
ith the funeral a day away, the hallways and gardens were teeming with visitors desperate to corner me and stake theirW claim before the Ascension Ball.
I’d taken refuge in the Crown’s personal reading room, a sprawling wood-paneled salon on the top floor of the palace with a ceiling made entirely of glass. A drizzly storm bathed the room in a soft grey pallor while a lullaby of thick raindrops pattered against the windowpanes.
I had made a tentative peace with my predicament. After Luther surprised me with another breakfast tray in my suite—it was becoming a morning tradition—we’d even managed to have a pleasant meal together while he delivered his daily report on the status of the realm.
I’d grilled him on the key Descended of Lumnos, prodding for details on their relationships and weaknesses. I still felt a flutter in my stomach from the impressed look that had slipped through his flinty veneer.
My insecurity was far from banished, forever hovering in the wings, but between my budding friendship with Eleanor, the support of Henri and my brother, and Luther’s claim that my mother was alive, my smile was feeling genuine at last.
After some bonding time with Sorae and a long lunch with Eleanor to go over the latest rumors surrounding the mysterious new Corbois Crown (apparently, I had either been kidnapped as a baby and raised by elk in the forest, or I was so hideously deformed that Remis had locked me away in the dungeon until now), I’d spent the afternoon curled up in front of a crackling fireplace with a soft quilt, a pot of steaming tea, and a stack of books on Descended culture.
“I understand I have my Queen to thank for the lecture I just received from my father.”
I bit back a smile at the sound of Luther’s voice.
“Oh?” I called out with feigned ignorance, stretching and sitting upright on the tufted divan. “How odd, I’m sure I told him how very helpful you’ve been.”
“I thought you and I had finally called a truce,” he muttered as he perched in an armchair beside me.
His face was solemn as always, but his muscles were bunched with tension. It seemed my chat with Remis had accomplished its goal of getting under Luther’s skin as well as his father’s.
“I wouldn’t dare go to war with His Royal Highness Prince Luther Corbois, Keeper of the Laws, Warden of something-or- other, Member of the Council of Self-Important Men, High General... wait, was it Grand General Supreme?” I frowned, stroking my chin.
His mask slipped briefly as he shot me a good-natured glare. “I’ve been instructed to beg forgiveness for failing to inform my beautiful Queen of certain ‘vital information’ that she would ‘dearly like to know.’”
I tried, and failed, to suppress my victorious grin. At least now I knew Remis could be trusted to deliver a message.
“Well imagine my surprise at hearing from your father that I’m to spend the next three weeks meeting with the Twenty Houses. All this after learning of the ball from Aemonn.” I tutted in disapproval. “If this is your candidacy to be my advisor, Prince, you’re going to have to do much better.”
“I never intended to keep those things from you. I only wanted to give you some time to adjust rather than overwhelm you.”
“Overwhelm me?” I sat up straighter. “So you thought I couldn’t handle it?”
His knuckles whitened where he gripped his armrests. “That’s not what I meant.”
I snapped the book in my lap closed with a loud thump. Through the glass panes, Sorae’s watery outline paused from her rain bath to cast a watchful amber eye our way.
“It sounds like you believed I was too fragile to be informed of my own schedule,” I said testily.
“I, more than anyone, know how not fragile you are,” he growled, his calm slipping. “But it is my sworn duty to protect you in whatever ways I can.”
“Protect me from what, myself?” I narrowed my eyes, expecting him to back down, but his gaze danced with a stubborn fire that matched my own. “I’m not a child, Luther, I am a grown woman.”
“Believe me, Your Majesty, I am well aware.”
His voice was low and rough, heavy with implication. My body flushed, tightening deep in my core. The want in his tone
felt nothing like Aemonn’s empty flattery, and all at once I was too hot, too sensitive, too breathless.
I shoved the quilt from my lap, intending to storm off, but the fabric tangled with my skirts and lifted them away, exposing my bare skin from ankle to thigh. Luther’s eyes lingered there, branding my flesh, until he caught himself. His back straightened as his gaze jumped back to mine.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. He’d seen nearly all of me already, thanks to my habit of answering doors in various states of undress. But something about the recent secrets we’d shared made these interactions between us now feel dangerously intimate.
Luther always seemed to have the upper hand, some higher ground from which to toss me off my resolve to dislike him. For once, I wanted him to be the one squirming under my stare and questioning everything he thought he knew about me.
I lounged back against the divan and crossed my legs so the fabric of my dress slid even further, baring my thigh where it curved up into my hip. I arched my back and raised my chin in a silent dare.
Luther’s pupils dilated as he watched me, a predator on the hunt. I could see him fighting against his desire to take another look—or perhaps do more than look.
I was playing with fire, but the thrill of the game had me in its claws. Luther drew me in in a way I’d never experienced with anyone else. Fighting with him, teasing him—it was like lighting a fuse and closing my eyes, never knowing just how close I was to destruction.
Knowing he was watching me, I allowed my eyes to wander. I gazed far longer than appropriate at the sharp rise of his cheekbones, the swell of his lips, the square angle of his jaw. I took in the taut stretch of fabric in all the places where his body showed its power—his wide shoulders, his muscled limbs. I studied the large, strong hands resting on his knees—hands that had held me against him, hands that had explored my hips and thighs.
I wondered if he remembered those moments at inopportune times like I did. If they turned his mouth dry and set his heart racing like they were currently doing to mine.
To his credit, he didn’t wither an inch. He remained preternaturally still. Even his breathing seemed to lie in wait. His only reaction was the spark of a question in his eyes, daring me to give my assessment.
Though I’d made a habit of mentally reciting all the reasons I was supposed to hate Luther whenever I was in his presence, the events of yesterday had me questioning each one. As I scrutinized him now, I came to a sudden, alarming realization.
I didn’t hate Luther. Against my better judgment, I had begun to genuinely trust him. I was even—Everflame forgive me— enjoying his company. I liked the way he unsettled me, the way he challenged me. I liked that he was a riddle I couldn’t quite
solve.
I liked... him.
Oh, gods. I liked him.
Instantly, I needed distance. I shot to my feet and across to one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls of the room, their alcoves packed with rows of colorful spines. I trailed a finger along their edges as I strolled away.
“I have enough people in my life who tried to protect me by keeping things from me, Luther. I have no need for any more of them. Especially now.”
His intense aura of power infused the air as he rose and fell into step behind me. When he was this close, his magic felt like a tangible thing, caressing me like fingers against my skin.
“Understood, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”
I glanced over my shoulder, and he met my gaze. Chin down, eyebrows up.
Deference. An unspoken apology.
I slowed my pace until he caught up to my side.
Acceptance. An unspoken forgiveness.
“Who will attend these House Receptions?” I asked.
“The heads of each House and the Crown Council. Until you appoint your own advisors, King Ulther’s Council will sit in its place to send a message that your reign will be consistent with his.”
I held back a retort. It certainly would not be consistent—not if I could help it.
“And you’re on the Council?”
Luther nodded. “Along with my father and my uncle, Garath, as well as his sons, Aemonn and Taran.”
I scowled. “Does Garath have to be there?”
“He’s unpleasant, but he is helpful. He knows the other Houses better than anyone.”
“Fine, I suppose. What about Aemonn, why keep him around?”
“I ask myself that every day.”
I stopped still. “Luther Corbois, did you just make a joke?”
“It’s been known to happen on occasion.” His hand slid to my back to nudge me forward and lingered there as I resumed
my pace.
“What about Taran, why is he there?”
“Mostly to keep me from killing Aemonn.”
“Luther,” I gasped. “Two jokes in one day! You’re going to need a nap to recover from this excitement.”
He smiled at me—a new smile, this one warm and humble, but also a little bit triumphant. I was so surprised at the casual sweetness of it that I nearly stumbled.
I tried to look annoyed, though my own smile was peeking through. “How curious that King Ulther couldn’t scrounge up a single woman in all of Lumnos to advise him.”
“Lily would have joined the Council when she came of age, but you’re right. The King was very... traditional.”
“Well, I am not. And I want Eleanor on my Council and present for the House Receptions.”
“Eleanor doesn’t have a title or a formal role.”
“On the contrary. I made her my first advisor, so she’s the only person with a formal role.” I smirked. “The rest of you have yet to earn my favor.”
He nodded gravely, though his eyes kept their amused gleam. “Noted. I’ll ensure she’s invited.”
We walked for a few paces in silence. His hand finally dropped away from my back, though it paused as it fell, twining in the gossamer fabric of my skirts. He stared at it, a slight wrinkle between his brows.
“You dislike my dress?” I asked, feigning offense.
“Not at all. You look...” His eyes slowly lifted to mine. Muscles strained along his throat.
“Let me guess,” I teased, trying to ignore the warmth rushing to my face. “You preferred when I wore nothing but a towel?”
His expression heated, and the flush in my cheeks plummeted straight down to my belly.
I laughed nervously and looked away. “Or maybe you prefer me in muddy pants and a borrowed tunic.”
“Only when it’s mine.”
The warmth drifted... lower.
My thighs squeezed together, and I’d never been more thankful for the shield of loose, flowy skirts. “Eleanor brought me some simpler clothing,” I said, shrugging with a feigned calm I did not at all feel, “but she suggested I give this a try, so I’m taking her counsel.”
“You really made her your advisor?” he asked.
“First you object to my dress, now my choice of advisor?”
He glared affectionately. “I approve of your dress and your advisor. Eleanor is extremely clever, far more than our family gives her credit for. I only meant...” He paused. “If you are open to advisors that are less traditional, may I make a suggestion?”
“I already considered asking Sorae, but I’m afraid a gryvern won’t fit in the meeting room. And I suspect she’ll eat Garath on sight.”
Luther did his best to look exasperated. “I meant Alixe. She’s brilliant at military strategy, and she’s as well respected with the army in Fortos as she is among the Royal Guard here in Lumnos. Should any kind of armed conflict arise, she would be a valuable asset.”
All the easy smiles we’d been trading vanished from my face. With the Guardians plotting for war, the idea of Alixe meeting Henri in battle made my blood run cold.
“I’ll consider it,” I said stiffly.
He frowned at my abrupt change in demeanor. “I know you don’t yet know her, but I can vouch for her trustworthiness.
Once given, Alixe’s loyalty is unwavering.”
“I already have a military advisor—my father. And I don’t need anyone to vouch for his trustworthiness.”
“The same father who didn’t tell you that you were Descended?”
I froze in place. “Careful, Luther. You may not be loyal to every member of your family, but I am to mine.”
He worked his jaw. The tension between us thickened, borne now of something darker than lust.
I started to pull away. “I should go. I’m meeting with your father.”
“May I escort you?”
He held his arm out, that veneer of indifference once again in place, shielding the true him from my sight. “So you can get through the palace uninterrupted,” he explained.
“Or so you can spy on me.”
He stiffened. “If you prefer privacy—”
“Relax. I make jokes sometimes, too.” I slipped my arm through his and set my hand on the corded muscles of his forearm, his shoulders easing at my touch. “Let’s just hope we don’t run into any more of my angry lovers on the way there.”
AS IT TURNED OUT, it was not my lovers I needed to be concerned with.
Luther proved to be an effective escort. His menacing glare scared off any would-be interruptions, allowing us to pass freely. He even whispered helpful notes about the new faces we passed, distinguishing the Corbois relatives from the important outsiders whose titles or court influence had earned them a place as palace guests. I was begrudgingly coming around to accept that Luther was not only my advisor—in practice, if not yet in title—but a very good one.
Though I had no intention of admitting that to him, of course.
We’d nearly made it to the meeting room undisturbed when a sultry female voice called Luther’s name.
The tendons of his arm clenched beneath my fingers. I shot him a questioning glance, but his cold stare was locked on the two women sauntering our way.
I recognized one as Alixe, but the other I knew was no Corbois, at least not one I’d met before. Hers was a face I was unlikely to forget, as she was one of the most stunning women I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Luther, darling,” she purred in a silky tone. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Like Alixe, she was slender but toned, her fair skin smooth over her lightly muscled arms. Both women wore skintight black fighting leathers fitted with armored plates. Their tops were cut low enough to reveal ample cleavage, a distraction that I suspected could be just as deadly as the many weapons strapped to their bodies.
Everything about her radiated confidence, from the sway of her hips to the smile that played on her pert, rosy lips. She looked like the kind of woman that was as deadly in a bedroom as a battlefield.
Though my wardrobe with now stocked with pants and tunics, I had continued to opt for dresses. The foreignness of the gowns had become oddly inspiring, as if being Queen was a costume, a part I could play.
But next to these two warrior women, the fluffy layers of my pale lilac frock had me feeling more like a frivolous doll.
Alixe’s dark navy hair, or at least the half of it that wasn’t shaved to the scalp, was trimmed into a short bob that ended in a point at her chin. The other woman had golden waves that cascaded unbound all the way down her back. Her eyes were captivating, the piercing cerulean of a cloudless summer sky.
Eyes that were scorching a hole at where my hand rested on Luther’s arm. I pulled it back and shifted my weight away from him, but he immediately took a step toward me to close the space.
Luther nodded in greeting. “Alixe. Iléana.”
“You’re a hard man to find,” the woman—Iléana—replied. “I had hoped you and I could catch up.” She flashed him a loaded smile. “In private.”
This was a first. Other than her initial glare, Iléana hadn’t even acknowledged my presence, though the Crown that blazed above my head made it undeniable that she knew who I was. Or at least what I was.
Alixe took notice as well, her elbow jabbing into her friend’s side as she gave me a low bow. “Your Majesty, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Iléana’s eyes flitted to me. Her chin dipped almost imperceptibly before she returned her focus to Luther and took a slow step toward him. “You’re looking as handsome as ever, Lu.”
Lu? Note to self—tease Luther mercilessly for that later.
He retreated a step and turned toward me. “Your Majesty, may I introduce Iléana, of House Hanoverre. Iléana, this is Her Royal Majesty Diem Corbois.” He shot her a reproachful look. “Our new Queen.”
“Unchallenged Queen,” she corrected, finally turning fully to me and looking me over. “Diem, was it? I’ve heard so much
about you.”
“Iléana,” Alixe hissed in warning.
My temper prickled.
“You may refer to me as Your Majesty,” I said coolly. “I must admit, I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
“You know what they say,” she said with a shrug. “Bad news travels so much faster than good.”
Alixe looked mortified. I refused to give Iléana the satisfaction of looking to Luther for his reaction.
“Iléana is a top commander in the Royal Guard,” Luther explained, then added under his breath, “though perhaps not for much longer.”
“You’re one of the palace guards?” I asked.
She scoffed. “The Royal Guard has far more important tasks to manage than palace duty.”
“Such as?”
She turned to Luther with an incredulous look. “She doesn’t even respect the Royal Guard enough to learn what they do?”
My confidence emptied like a punctured balloon. Rude as she may be, she had a point—that was something a Queen should know.
It was something anyone should know. My lifelong isolation from the Descended had left me ignorant about the realm outside my tiny mortal bubble. A realm I was now supposed to lead.
“Lu, sweetie,” Iléana cooed. She moved closer and ran her hand along his arm. “Can I please have a word?”
He took another step back. “Her Majesty and I have a meeting to attend.”
“It’s fine,” I mumbled with a dismissive wave.
Iléana didn’t wait for his protest. She smirked, then took his hand and pulled him down the corridor.
“My apologies for her behavior.” Alixe sighed when they were out of earshot. “If it’s any consolation, it makes her a very effective commander. The guards are all terrified of her.”
I gave a tight smile, too embarrassed to come up with a witty remark. I glanced over to see Iléana and Luther huddled close in an alcove. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but her fluttering eyelashes and coy smile gave me a pretty good guess.
“You all seem... close,” I said carefully.
“Iléana has been a family friend since we were young. She and Luther have been courting off and on for years.”
“Years?” I choked. Down the hall, Iléana brushed a stray lock of hair from Luther’s face. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“Everyone assumed they would marry so our Houses could formalize an alliance before he became...” She caught herself
and winced. “If he became King.”
“So what happened?”
She shrugged, light glinting from the many hoops and studs that adorned her face. “I keep out of it. I only know he broke it
off.”
I swallowed. “When?”
“Recently. A month ago, I think.”
The peal of Iléana’s laughter carried down the hall. She was shoved up against him now, preening as she smoothed the lapels of his jacket. Her fingers were inching up his chest, around his neck, snaking into his hair. Luther grasped her wrist, and she leaned up to him, eyes closed and lips parted.
I quickly turned away, heat flushing my cheeks.
The idea of Luther with a woman had my mind reeling, though I wasn’t sure why. I couldn’t deny he was an attractive man —fine, an extremely attractive man, if I was forced to be honest—and being the presumptive heir to the throne surely made him a prime target for any woman with dreams of becoming Queen Consort.
But he was so closed off, so reluctant to show any hint of emotion. It was hard to envision him as someone’s beloved, curled up naked in rumpled bedsheets, laughing and sharing dreams and fears. The thought of it had my stomach twisting in a way that made me feel ill.
I wondered what secrets of his Iléana knew. Did she know he never expected to be King? Did she know he’d helped my mother, or that he’d saved the half-mortal children? Did she know that we’d— “Your Majesty?”
I blinked as Alixe’s voice cut into my thoughts. “Oh—apologies,” I stammered. “Please, call me Diem. And I’m sorry, by
the way—about earlier.”
Her brows creased. “Earlier?”
“My question about the Royal Guard. I didn’t mean to insult your job.”
“You didn’t, not at all. The truth is, the Royal Guard does whatever the Crown tells us to do. Only Luther, as High General, really knows what all that includes.” She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “And the only reason Iléana isn’t on palace duty is because she’s not a Corbois.”
“All of the guards in the palace are Corbois?”
“Every last one.”
I dared another glimpse over my shoulder. Luther had both of Iléana’s wrists in his grip, his neck craned down toward her, their faces mere inches apart. Her eyes slid over and caught mine, and a smug smile unfurled across her lips. Luther followed her gaze to me.
I snapped forward. “It was good to see you again, Alixe,” I said quickly, moving to leave. “I hope we get the chance to talk soon.”
She bowed low. “As do I. I’ve heard so many stories about your father. I’d love to trade some, if you’re willing.”
Pride and pain rose at the thought of him. “Of course. Perhaps you can come home with me one day and meet him yourself.”
“I would be honored,” she said with a genuine smile.
I excused myself and darted down the nearest hallway. I had no idea where the meeting room was, and I cursed myself for my ill-thought-out exit. Just as I was about to succumb to the humiliation of doubling back, I heard the thump of jogging footsteps. Seconds later, Luther came to my side, his expression stormy.
“You should have waited.” Heat skittered down my spine at the darkness of his tone.
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to break up the lovers’ reunion.”
“She’s not my lover.”
“Does she know that?”
A low noise rumbled from his throat.
“I thought my not inheriting the Crown would finally put her off me for good,” he muttered.
“Maybe she thinks you’ll get another shot. She didn’t seem to have much confidence in me.”
“Then she’s even more foolish than I thought.”
I looked up at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Well, she seems like a real peach,” I drawled. “You obviously have flawless taste.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His voice dropped to a hush. “Last I saw him, your betrothed was stomping around calling himself King. I could see the plans already forming in his head.”
“I’ve known Henri since I was a child,” I said defensively. “I trust him. And may I remind you, he proposed when I was just a plain mortal girl.”
Luther halted, whipping around to face me. “You were never just a plain mortal girl,” he snapped, his temper cracking.
“And may I remind you, you weren’t sure he would still want you.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but he leaned closer and continued, his voice frosty.
“A Descended mate is forever. We do not give our heart away unless we are certain, beyond all doubt, that the person we choose will stand by our side no matter what fate the Kindred have in store for us, in this life and all that comes after.” Shards of his magic clashed in his gaze. “I will not presume to tell you who to choose, I can only hope that you have friends, as I did, who care about you enough to tell you when you’re being a blind fool.”
The sound of approaching voices wafted nearby. Luther’s focus flicked toward them, then he took my hand and tugged me back into step.
I let his words sink in as we walked, despising how disloyal they made me feel, the buried doubts they lured to the surface.
Back in Mortal City, I didn’t have many friends. My strange eyes, rough edges, and tendency to break rules made me too much of a liability to keep around for very long.
“Is Eleanor trustworthy?” I asked.
“She’s your sole advisor, and you’re asking me if you can trust her?” he asked dryly.
“Don’t be jealous, Lu,” I said, earning a glare in response. “Answer the question. Could I tell her about Henri?”
“Yes. She is loyal to you.” He grunted irritably. “She’s stopped talking to me entirely because she thinks you don’t trust
me.”
I beamed. “Really?”
“You could try to look a little less pleased with yourself every time you turn a new member of my family against me. Sorae used to adore me. Now when I use the front entrance, she tries to take a bite out of my arm.”
I burst out laughing. Luther watched me, and despite himself, his sour mood eased at the sound, though as my thoughts returned to Henri, my spirits came tumbling back down.
“Will Eleanor care that he’s mortal?”
“Every soul in the realm will care that he’s mortal.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “And you... if you were my friend and nothing more, what would you tell me?”
His answer came without missing a beat. “That if a man made you doubt whether his love for you would survive anything, he does not deserve you.”
He dropped my hand and stopped abruptly at an open door, where Remis was already seated at a long table.
“Father,” Luther said curtly.
Remis ignored his son as he rose and bowed his head low. “Your Majesty.”
“Regent,” I said, walking in. Luther came around to pull out an elaborately carved wooden chair at the head of the table, gesturing for me to sit.
When he reached for the unadorned chair opposite his father, Remis raised his palm. “You can leave us, son.”
Luther’s jaw ticked. “If this concerns the House Receptions, I should stay. As Warden of the Light—”
“As Warden, you do the Crown’s bidding. And until our young Queen is coronated”—he nodded to me with a tactful smile —“I wield the authority of the Crown. And I say your presence is not needed.”
Their glares locked, the tension between them palpable. At this proximity, their blood relation was undeniable. Their faces were strikingly similar, a mirror of mutual disdain. Luther’s skin was darker and more olive-toned, his hair night-black compared to Remis’s warm brown, and his pale eyes were all his own, but otherwise, their handsome features were separated only by age and the slash of Luther’s scar.
Luther glanced in my direction. I said nothing, wanting to see how the father-son feud would play out.
“Surely you don’t believe Her Majesty is incapable of handling a simple meeting with her Regent on her own,” Remis crooned.
A masterful strike. Perhaps I hadn’t given Remis enough credit for how clever he could be—or how dangerous.
“Of course not,” Luther said, the words clipped. He pushed away from the table. “I’ll leave you both to it.”
With a brief look at me that was loaded with warning, Luther was gone, and I was alone with Remis Corbois, Regent of Lumnos.
