Chapter
Two
n hour later, I found myself alone at the royal hunting lodge, a spacious cabin nestled in a quiet patch of forest. The interiorA was rich with warm woods, cozy furniture, and layered hides. The main family room smelled faintly of tobacco and hickory, its walls dotted with the heads of slain beasts and oil paintings depicting the Crowns of old.
The doors were secured with bloodlocks that only opened with “royal blood, willingly given.” When I’d pricked my finger and placed it on the smooth black disc, the click of the latch felt more like a door opening in my soul than in front of my eyes.
The truth was unavoidable. Royal blood meant my blood. I was indeed the Queen—at least for now.
Lily had left, promising to return with food and dry clothes despite my protests. Her sudden keenness to serve me was disconcerting, a far cry from the casual disdain, if not outright hatred, with which most mortals viewed the Crown. Easier to respect a throne when you’re raised to believe your beloved brother will inherit it, I supposed.
I hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her how Luther might react to losing the Crown everyone had been so certain he would receive. I wondered if she thought he would kill me on the spot or wait for the Challenging to do it more formally.
Even though, lately, he hadn’t quite seemed like my enemy anymore. He’d saved my life by pulling me from the collapsing armory. And when we’d said our final goodbyes, the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d kissed me...
A shiver rolled down my spine.
I walked to the massive stone hearth and struggled to build a fire with my stiff, frostbitten fingers. With these wet clothes plastered to my skin, I couldn’t seem to get warm, no matter how high the flames climbed.
I peeled the sopping tunic over my head and laid it out by the fire, then followed suit with the rest. A snort escaped me as I saw the elegant undergarments Luther’s cousin had chosen when she’d dressed my unconscious body this morning. The wine- colored lace was woven with velvet ribbon, and a clasp between my breasts was inset with a sapphire surrounded in pearls.
How could I possibly step into a world where even the garments they hid beneath their clothing cost more than every possession I’d ever owned?
I tugged a blanket around my shoulders and threw a fresh log onto the fire, sending a cloud of sparks swirling upward. A sharp burst of panic pulled my muscles taut as my mind flashed back to the armory and the sound of the victims’ anguished screams. The towering flames seemed to point a finger in accusation: You caused this. You killed them.
My skin still prickled with the phantom sting of blistering embers raining down on me as the building collapsed. And yet— there wasn’t a single wound on my flesh. There was no sign at all of the blaze that had burned my clothes away and left me unconscious for hours. No mortal should have survived it... but if I wasn’t— “No,” I snapped at myself, gritting my teeth. I shoved those thoughts away before they sank too deep.
The memory of the inferno had finally chased away my chill, but it left behind an unbearably heavy exhaustion. It felt as if an entire lifetime had passed in the span of one wretched day. I was hopelessly adrift, unsure where to even begin my search for answers.
“When all else fails, keep moving,” I said to the empty room, echoing the command my father had drilled into me. “If you cannot run, then walk. If you cannot walk, then crawl.”
His voice filled my stormy mind. If you are outnumbered or overwhelmed, or if all seems lost, just keep moving. Onward, until the very last breath.
My heart twisted. Though my anger over our fight still simmered, his words gave me much-needed clarity. I couldn’t hide in this cabin forever. The world was not some prowling creature that might lose interest and wander off. I had to keep pushing forward, keep learning who I was and what it meant to wear this Crown.
Queen or not, I was still Diem Bellator—and a Bellator did not flee from a challenge merely because it scared them.
Outside, the heavy clop of hoofbeats approached. Lily must have returned on horseback.
I felt a stab of guilt that she was traipsing back and forth at night in a misguided effort to win my favor. I tugged the blanket tighter around my half-naked body and walked to the door, throwing it open before she could knock.
“Honestly Lily, you really don’t have to—”
My voice withered away as I stared into eyes so pale they were nearly silver, split by the jagged line of an angry scar.
The eyes of Prince Luther.
Lily had betrayed me.
IF I THOUGHT I had seen a glimpse of Luther’s fiery temper before, it was nothing compared to the frenzied man staring at me now.
I barely recognized him. His expression was wild, eyes wide and lips bloodless. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, the muscles coating his body twitching with coiled tension. He looked closer to an animal than the eternally poised Prince I’d come to know. The jewel-encrusted sword he normally carried on his back was unsheathed and gripped in his white-knuckled fist.
He apparently had no intention of waiting for the Challenging to shed my blood.
I swore internally. My mortal weapons were useless against his Descended skin, and the one weapon that might save me— the Fortosian steel blade gifted by Henri’s friend, Brecke—was gone, fallen at Luther’s feet and forgotten amid the fervor of
our stolen kiss.
My blood heated at the memory.
Bands of light and shadow, the manifestation of his Descended magic, curled around his arms like twisting vines. The scar that tore across his face looked darker than ever, a harbinger of the destruction he had the power to unleash.
Luther took a step closer, moving into the doorframe. It took every shred of my courage to resist a retreat.
Strangely, hurt tugged at my chest. Despite our wildly different worlds and my suspicions about his role in my mother’s disappearance, some naive part of me had felt a bond forming between us I couldn’t explain. Not a friendship, exactly.
Something... else.
But it was clear enough from the sword in his hand and the scorching pulse of his aura that Luther hadn’t come here for anything like friendship.
I braced my shoulders and raised my chin, even as the icy fingers of fear crept along my skin. I might be terrified, but I would die—perhaps literally—before I would let Luther Corbois see me cower.
“I won’t go down without a fight,” I warned. “At least give me a blade to make it fair—if you even know the meaning of that word.”
The dark lines of his brows pulled in, his sharp features dulling slightly.
“It’s hardly my fault the Crown chose me instead of you,” I said. “As soon as I find out how to get rid of it, you can have it.
I don’t want any part of you or your people.”
Surprise flashed over his face. I wondered if the possibility of someone not wanting the Crown had ever occurred to him.
My eyes darted warily to his bejeweled sword. “If you won’t give me a weapon, then kill me with magic. I refuse to die by that. It’s too embarrassing.”
His gaze followed my line of sight. He bristled, staring at his own blade like he had only just now taken note of its presence.
“How long have you known?” he asked, his voice deadly soft. “What you are. What you would become.”
My jaw clenched. “I told you before. I’m just a mortal. I didn’t expect any of this.”
“There’s no point in lying. We’re well past keeping those secrets now.”
I let the blanket fall and stormed forward to close the distance between us. “How dare you lecture me about secrets,” I hissed. “Why don’t you tell me what you did to my mother?”
He stilled and took me in, some dark thought churning in his eyes as they dragged slowly over my bare flesh.
“Eyes up here, Prince,” I snapped.
His focus shot back to mine, his pupils blown wide.
I jerked my chin at his weapon. “Now put away that garish piece of tin before I do it for you.”
He stared at me for a long, silent minute. His jaw flexed as he battled some internal decision—perhaps debating which part of me to carve up first.
“Is that why you killed the King?” he asked finally. “Because you think I hurt your mother?”
“Killed the King?” I nearly choked on the words.
“You were alone with him before he died.”
“At your request! He was barely alive as it was.”
“The guards said they heard arguing. There were signs of a struggle.”
I clamped my mouth shut. I was still trying to make sense of my bizarre final encounter with the King—his surprising strength as he’d pinned me at his side, the way his frail body had lit up with an eerie glow.
They told me you would come for me, he had said. They told me your blood would shatter our stone and lay waste to our borders. Devourer of Crowns. Ravager of Realms. Herald of Vengeance.
Best to keep that little interaction to myself.
“What happened with my uncle?” Luther demanded.
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
“Did he speak to you?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“Tell me,” he growled.
I propped a hand on my hip and glared back. “Not until you tell me where my mother is.”
He noted the movement, his attention sliding down the vast expanse of skin at my waist.
His nostrils flared. “Was she involved in this? I knew you two were planning something. Your strange behavior at the palace, the way you flirted with me to distract me—”
“Flirted with you?” I shouted. “Flirted with you? As I recall, Luther Corbois, it’s always been you who can’t keep your hands off me.” He opened his mouth to respond. I silenced him with a finger jabbed into his chest, heat rising to my cheeks. “I wouldn’t flirt with you if you were the last living man on this miserable fucking continent.”
Sparks flew in his slate blue eyes.
Liar, they seemed to say.
We fell into a silent standoff. While I poured all my effort into maintaining my scowl, Luther seemed lost in my expression, as if searching for some answer buried within. His hand rose toward me. When I flinched away, he stopped, his fingers curling in and dropping back to his side.
His focus traveled up, taking in the ethereal Crown. The sight of it seemed to ease his temper. As his breathing slowed, something unreadable shifted on his face. “You and your mother had nothing to do with the King’s death? You give your word?”
“Not that I owe you any explanation,” I huffed, “but no, I did not. I swear it. And if my mother did, I know nothing of it.”
He watched me, assessing, then took a step back and sheathed his sword. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to the palace.”
“Sorry, I’ll have to decline,” I said dryly.
“Do you plan to rule over all of Lumnos from a cabin in the woods?”
“I don’t plan to rule over anything. I told you, I don’t want your Crown. As soon as I find a way to take it off, you and your friends can fight each other for it.”
He frowned. “The only way to pass on the Crown is through death.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered, swiping my blanket from the floor and retreating into the lodge.
I stalked back to the fireplace and grabbed my damp clothes. Luther cleared his throat and awkwardly turned away while I dressed, and I felt a little thrill of triumph at having gotten under his skin.
“Even if you insist on remaining here, they’ll still find you,” he called over his shoulder. “The Crown’s gryvern is bound to you now, and Sorae won’t tolerate being separated for long. She’ll follow your scent the moment I return to the palace. My family will know to follow her.”
“Then perhaps I should kill you so you never return.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Sorae will find you nevertheless. The Crown’s power calls to her.”
I thought of the stunning creature I’d seen on my prior visits to the palace—the legendary beast with the head of a sea dragon, the wings and talons of an eagle, and the body of a lion. To have such an incredible animal at my beck and call...
“If you come now,” he said, “you at least come on your own terms. You can reveal only what you wish to reveal. In our world, there is no greater advantage.”
I had to admit, begrudgingly, that he had a point. And I had just been scolding myself about facing my issues head-on.
With a sigh that was almost a groan, I secured my blade belt around my waist, then slipped my feet back into my boots, wrinkling my nose at the squelch of water that had pooled inside.
I walked back into Luther’s line of sight and crossed my arms. “I presume Lily told you I was here?”
He met my gaze but didn’t respond.
I arched an eyebrow. “She was meant to return here. I won’t leave if there’s a chance a young girl will arrive to an empty lodge in the dead of night.”
His jaw tightened. “She won’t be returning.”
“So she did betray me,” I grumbled.
“Don’t be angry with her. She believed she was helping you.”
“Why, because you promised her you would?” I snorted. “And then you showed up waving a sword and accusing me of murder. Again.”
If I wasn’t certain he was incapable of such an emotion, I might have believed I saw a hint of guilt behind the Prince’s frozen stare.
I grabbed my things and motioned for him to put out the fire. With a flick of his wrist, a dark fog formed around the hearth
and began to hiss. When the shadows dissolved, only a curl of smoke remained.
I couldn’t help it—I gawked. I’d seen the terrifying violence Descended magic could cause, but to see it tossed around so simply, so casually... I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to it.
“You could do that,” he said, noticing my awe. He nodded his head toward the smoking embers. “If the Crown chose you, the strength of your magic exceeds mine.”
“I don’t have any magic.”
“Still lying to yourself, I see.”
My glare could have incinerated him alive.
“I don’t.”
“Impossible. And you’d be very wise not to say that to anyone at the palace.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past him, striding outside into the crisp evening air, where a horse was fastened to a nearby
tree.
One horse.
Only one horse.
I jerked to a halt. “Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head. “I am not sharing a horse with you.”
“It’s only a brief ride.”
“Then I’ll walk. Actually, I’m the Crown. You can walk.”
“You’ve taken to authority quickly for someone who swears she doesn’t want it.”
I shot him my nastiest scowl and caught the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Was that—was he—smirking at me?
“You couldn’t have brought two horses?”
“I didn’t expect to need more than one.”
“Because you didn’t think I would come with you, or because you planned to kill me first?”
He walked past me without responding.
The horse was an enormous beast, its back rising nearly a head above me. It had a glossy white coat that gleamed like starlight in the evening darkness, marred only by a tuft of black on its head.
As I admired the beautiful creature, I felt a tug at the hem of my memory. Something about it seemed familiar. But that was impossible—I’d never seen a horse like this before.
Its saddle was predictably ostentatious, embroidered in brightly colored patterns and studded with precious stones throughout. A crimson saddlecloth of quilted silk hung with tassels of miniature pearls, and solid gold stirrups dangled at the sides. Like so many Descended-made objects, it was stunningly beautiful—and impractical to the point of absurd.
I swallowed my mocking comments, if only because I was too busy scoffing at the hand Luther offered to help me mount.
With a considerable amount of effort and a mortifying grunt, I managed to heave myself up and over the saddle.
I stiffened as his hand grazed across my hips to grip the saddle’s ivory horn between my open thighs. In one fluid, graceful movement, he mounted and seated himself behind me.
The curve of the saddle forced our bodies to slide together, his muscular thighs pressed tightly to my own. His arms slipped around my waist to reach for the reins, and as he leaned forward, his chin nestled against my temple.
The familiar scent of him overwhelmed me. He should have smelled like wealth. He should have reeked of exotic incense and spices no mortal could ever afford, all the hallmarks of his privileged status.
Instead, his intoxicating musk hinted at cedar, leather, and moss. He smelled like the forest—my favorite place in the world, the only place I felt truly alive.
He smelled like home.
It made me hate him even more.
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine.”
His arms tightened around me anyway, and I barely managed to hold back a groan at how nice the searing heat of him felt as it seeped through my soggy clothes.
He nudged the horse into a trot. Our bodies rocked together in a steady rhythm with no chance at putting any distance between us. His hips ground relentlessly against mine, made worse by the way he seemed to pull me closer, closer, closer. I felt every swell of his chest as he breathed, heard every thunderous beat of his heart—racing even faster than my own.
I wondered if he, like me, was plagued with memories of our last interaction: his hands on my waist and my blade at his throat—then his lips on my mouth and my fingers in his hair.
Guilt washed through me as I thought of Henri. Though we’d never been officially courting, his marriage proposal had left no question that he believed we were more than casual lovers. If he knew about that kiss...
Then again, that might be the least of our worries. No one hated the Descended more than Henri. He might drop to his knees and thank the Old Gods for revealing my monstrous nature before he had chained himself to me in marriage.
Hot tears pricked at my eyes. Despite the rift that had formed between us, I was not ready to lose Henri from my life—and
certainly not for some Crown I had no intention of keeping.
I was grateful for the wind that whipped at my face and dried away the evidence of my emotion. Every part of my life was a hot, steaming disaster, but I was determined to keep my confident facade in front of Luther and whoever awaited me at the end of this ride.
We cut a sharp turn, and Luther’s hand slid lower to grip my hip and hold me steady. My protests couldn’t quite take form in words amid the maddening brush of his lips against the shell of my ear.
The path straightened, and the horse broke into a gallop. My hair whirled in the breeze, tickling Luther’s face, and he gently tucked it behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin as they trailed the curve of my neck. This time I could not blame the cold for the shiver that rolled down my spine.
As our pace quickened, my eyes caught on a flash of light where strands of golden tinsel had been woven into the horse’s silky mane. An old conversation floated to the surface of my thoughts.
The biggest horse I’ve ever seen. I’ll never forget it. White as snow, with a patch of black between its eyes, and as tall as a house. Gold ribbon in its mane.
The realization struck. I knew why this horse seemed familiar. I hadn’t seen it before—but Henri had.
He’d watched the horse and its cruel rider trample a mortal boy to death in Lumnos City, a tragedy that had inspired him to join the Guardians’ war against the Descended.
When I told him the boy was dead, he sat there in his gold and finery and he looked at that boy’s corpse like it was nothing. He just brushed the dust off his horse and rode away.
Luther—it was Luther Henri had seen, Luther who slaughtered that boy without feeling.
My blood boiled so hot, it might have been steaming. I fixated on the horse’s hooves flying across the gravel beneath me— hooves that had stomped the life out of an innocent child.
How could I have ever believed, even for a moment, that this man was not my enemy? I’d seen his ruthlessness with his own guards, the ease with which he’d shed their blood for disobeying his orders, and he’d admitted his fondness for the late King, a man responsible for countless atrocities against mortals.
I’d been so stupid, so naive, to allow a handsome face to woo me right into his lethal hands.
He needed to pay.
They all needed to pay.
Perhaps I’d been too hasty in rejecting the Crown. What if I could balance the scales between the oppressor and the oppressed? I could bring them to justice—Luther and all the rest. I could make them suffer like my people had suffered and finally, finally, give the mortals a fighting shot at taking back what had been stolen from us so long ago.
Cold determination settled deep in my soul. I’d always dreamed of something bigger for my life, and this was my chance.
My destiny beckoned, clear and unmistakable.
Survive the Challenging.
Complete the Rite of Coronation.
And destroy the Descended.
