Chapter
Twenty
ou were right,” I admitted as the door closed. “I do like Alixe.”“Y “Because she has impressive magic?” Luther teased.
“Because she was kind to the most important man in my life, and I think it had nothing to do with me being the Queen.” I grinned. “And because she has impressive magic.”
He huffed a laugh and strode toward me, his demeanor changing entirely. Like the flip of a switch, the hard resolve of the Prince melted from his expression and his taut muscles soothed into a relaxed stance. He leaned against the wall beside me with a single shoulder, arms crossed lightly over his chest.
The mask was off. Even the air around us felt different. Something about it crackled in my blood, quickening my heart.
“You could probably do that, too, you know.”
“Huh?” I mumbled, distracted by the amusement tugging on his lips.
“Create illusions with your magic. With some training, you could do it yourself. Perhaps we both should learn.”
“You can’t do it?”
“Not nearly as well as Alixe. My father demanded my training focus on using magic as a weapon.”
My brows dipped, noting how his expression darkened at that admission.
“That’s a shame. A power like that could come in handy.” A scheming smile crept onto my lips. “I could absolutely terrorize my brother. And Taran.”
His eyes crinkled as he shook his head, trying and failing to look exasperated. “You two got along well today.”
“I like Taran. He seems to be the only Descended in Lumnos who doesn’t care about the Crown.” I gave him a thoughtful look. “I imagine that has something to do with why you two are so close.”
“It does. We both had childhoods that were not particularly pleasant. We swore our loyalty to each other when we were boys, and we’ve never looked back. There’s very little about me he doesn’t know.”
I thought of the journal full of half-mortal children and raised a brow. “Even...?”
Luther nodded, sensing my meaning. “Taran helps get them out, if needed. Alixe, too. Along with your mother, they’re the
only ones on the Lumnos side who know.”
“Not even Lily?”
“Especially not Lily.” A hint of his lethal coldness slipped back into place. “If I get caught, she—”
“You won’t,” I said firmly. “Even if you do, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His gaze pierced through me, and my chest tightened. Had I really just promised safety to the very man I’d sworn to destroy?
“Or Lily,” I added quickly. “Or Taran and Alixe. As long as I’m Queen, you’re all safe with me.”
The thick presence of his aura seemed to curl around me, brushing my skin. “You’re safe with me, too.”
Though I—shockingly, inexplicably—believed his words were sincere, it felt more like a lie than anything he’d ever said.
There was nothing safe about... this.
The silence hung heavy between us, growing louder by the second.
I looked down and busied my hands with my hair, anxiously twisting the white strands around my finger. I knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I asked my father to come to the House Receptions as my advisor.”
Right on cue, his posture went rigid. He pulled away from the wall and uncrossed his arms.
“He advised Ulther on the mortals,” I hurried out. “I can say he’s here to do the same for me. To keep continuity with the late King’s advisors, like you said.”
I tensed as I braced for his criticism, the quiet stretching on unbearably long.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll make the arrangements.”
I looked up in surprise. “You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”
He hesitated, seeming to weigh his words. “Brutal honesty?”
“Always.”
“It’s not a bad idea, but it is a dangerous one. After today, any connection with the mortals is a risk.”
Doubt coiled in my belly. Pushing family away or keeping them close—it was a swinging pendulum I could never time just right. I was dancing on a never-ending tightrope, forever at risk of leaning too far in one direction.
He took a step closer. “You worried me today, at the funeral.” His voice was soft, almost tender, as he lowered his chin.
“Are you alright?”
I tried to find some snappy comeback to tease him or make him laugh, anything to avoid him looking too closely at the weakness I always fought so hard to conceal.
But I couldn’t do it. Whatever his reasons, Luther had begun to let me see him—the real him. And not just his smiles and his laughter, but his fears and his rage and his regrets. The least I could do was offer him the same in return.
I shook my head. “How bad is it?” I whispered.
He shifted forward, then paused, his muscles twitching as he held himself back. “We can fix it. We’ll come up with an explanation. We can arrange another display of your power when you’re ready, or we can—”
“Luther. Brutal honesty, remember?”
He let out a sharp exhale.
“How bad?” I pushed.
“Bad enough.”
I dropped my face into my hands with a muffled groan. “How did I mess this up so quickly? One appearance, and I’ve already signed my death warrant. That has to be some kind of record.”
“Look at me.” His hands wrapped around my wrists and gently pried them from my face as he tugged me closer. “You’re not going to die. I promised you, didn’t I?”
“You did,” I muttered.
“And I told you I always keep my promises.”
“You did.”
He tilted his chin down and gave me a stern look. “Do you trust me?”
For once, I didn’t let myself overthink it.
“I do.” I sighed dramatically. “Against all the odds, despite all my better judgment, somehow... I do.”
He smiled—a true smile, broad and exquisite, his face radiating such matchless brilliance that I pitied the sun.
He keeps smiling at you, Eleanor had said. And those are not the smiles he gives Taran and Lily.
My throat felt thick, the air too heavy. I hadn’t realized how near our bodies had become. So close. Too close. Not close enough.
He can’t keep his hands off you, she’d said.
My senses zeroed in on the way he held my wrists to his chest with such tenderness, so unlike his kiss—that fucking kiss. If I thought on it long enough—which I never allowed myself to do—I could still feel the gritty stone against my back as his body crushed me to the palace wall, the knead of his fingers into my flushed skin, the way his tongue claimed me, branded me, as if it might leave his name on my lips forever.
I felt as trapped now as I had then, frozen in these ice-blue irises that followed me into my most shameful thoughts and dreams. I felt equally as conflicted, too—too scared to confront the emotions that waited within, too weak to turn away from them for good.
His hands tightened around my wrists, just for a moment, just long enough to flood my mind with disgraceful thoughts of that dominant grip on other parts of my body. A gasp escaped with a soft, desperate sound, and his pupils blew wide.
I thought I’d finally found my reprieve when his hold loosened, but Luther had no intention of letting me go. His palms skated up my forearms, then to my elbows, and then the curve of my waist—slowly, torturously slowly, never losing their connection with my body—until he was holding my hips and pulling me, ever so slightly, against him.
Every blink was a battle, every breath a war.
Need burned hot in his gaze, its fire consuming all the air from the room. My mouth felt painfully dry, and when I wet my lips, his eyes snapped to the movement, looking like a wild fox caught in a hunter’s snare.
He moved more hungrily now, emboldened by my body’s treacherous reaction. His broad hands curved around my sides and traced the edge of my gown’s open back, following its hem until his hands rested perilously, scandalously low. His fingers hooked on the fabric’s edge, curving beneath it, knuckles grazing smoothly over my skin.
It was such a simple act, not much different than the way his hand always found its way to my back, its warm presence becoming a crutch for my wobbling confidence.
But this was no reassuring caress. This was Luther laying his claim on what I hadn’t dared to reveal. Asking for what I
hadn’t yet offered.
What do you want, Luther?
Something I cannot have.
Warmth exploded through me. A sinful heat pooled at my core and set every nerve ending sparking with simmering energy.
My hands curled against his chest, clutching at the dark crimson fabric of his lapels.
I tried, desperately, to remind myself I was a betrothed woman. A betrothal I was becoming less sure of with every day, but
betrothed nonetheless.
“Luther,” I whispered.
“My Queen,” he breathed.
Our faces drew close, and I honestly didn’t know which of us had done it. My nose brushed his, our mouths so near that his breath warmed my lips.
I needed to pull away, put distance and cold, empty air between our bodies. I needed to remind him, and myself, that we were allies, reluctant friends at best, but nothing more. Never anything more.
And I tried to do that. I really, truly did.
But my body wouldn’t obey.
My heart wouldn’t, either.
I used the last shred of self-preservation I had left. I slipped my arms around his waist, laid my cheek over his heart, and pulled him against me in a hug that was eager for all the wrong reasons.
He didn’t move. I could sense his confusion, and I understood it. I was a coward, hiding from his desire in his very own arms. But within seconds, he embraced me like it was the most normal thing in the world, one arm roped low on my waist, the other stroking my hair and pressing me to his chest.
His chin settled on top of my head, and we burned together for a tiny eternity, saying nothing and too much all at once.
It felt so natural to be held by him like this. So right in a way that didn’t make sense.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice barely there.
I felt his muscles strain as he swallowed. “I have many reasons.”
“Give me one. The truest one. And don’t tell me it’s because of your family or my mother or the Crown, because I won’t
believe you.”
“It’s not.”
His heartbeat thundered against my cheek, and I held my breath. I wanted badly to pull back and see his face, but I was too terrified of what I might see, and what I might do next.
“The truest reason,” he repeated with a sigh. “I wish...” His arms tightened around me. “I... I can’t—”
A loud knock thumped on the door.
We both froze in place, though neither of us pulled away.
Another knock rang out, followed by two muffled voices from the other side.
“Diem? It’s Eleanor—”
“And Taran.”
“—are you alright in there? Do you need anything? Maybe some food, or chocolate, or—”
“Or whiskey?”
“Remind me again why I brought you.”
“Because I’m fun. Hey Diem, is Luther in there? Are you two doing something naughty?”
“Blessed Kindred, Taran, stop!”
Suddenly, it was far easier to yank myself out of Luther’s grasp and force some space between us. I avoided his eyes—and the longing I felt at the loss of his touch—as I moved to the door and pulled it open. “Food, no. Chocolate, yes. Whiskey... maybe.”
Taran flashed me a grin that only grew wider as his eyes jumped between me and whatever Luther looked like as he joined me at the door.
“Are we interrupting something?” he asked, wiggling his brows.
“Ignore him,” Eleanor said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “Are you alright? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile and a nonchalant shrug. “The funeral was getting dull, so I decided to liven things up a bit.”
Taran snorted. I winced in anticipation of his ribbing, banter that I would normally welcome if I wasn’t feeling quite so raw, but he didn’t offer up any jokes. Instead, he lumbered forward and wrapped me up in a swinging bear-hug that hauled me all the way off my feet as he squeezed the air from my lungs.
“Don’t worry about it, Queenie. We’ve got your back.”
I went limp, half from shock and half from mild asphyxiation. “Thank you,” I wheezed.
“Taran, please don’t snap Her Majesty’s ribs,” Luther said calmly.
“Come on, look at her, she likes it!”
“Her gryvern doesn’t.”
“Wrong, cousin. Sorae loves my hugs.”
Sorae snapped her jaws, and whether it was a threat or an agreement was anyone’s guess. Taran set me back down, only for me to be yanked into Eleanor’s embrace.
“I refuse to say these two words ever again, but Taran’s right.” She pulled back and placed a palm to my cheek. “You’re one of us now, and you have our full support.”
I looked from Eleanor to Taran and finally to Luther, three sets of blue eyes shining with genuine affection. I had arrived here with a plan to destroy, expecting to find a world full of Remises and Garaths and even Aemonns.
I hadn’t expected to find friends.
My plan might need a bit of revising.
“Thank you.” I gave them a wobbly smile. “That means a great deal to me.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eleanor asked.
A crease cut between my brows as I stared down at my upturned palms. “That was the first time I’ve ever tried to use my magic on purpose. I thought I had it, but then...”
“You need to start training,” Luther said sternly. “We can set aside some time each day—Alixe and I can help you.”
“And me,” Taran huffed.
I frowned. “This means you think I’m definitely going to be Challenged.”
“This isn’t about the Challenging,” Luther said.
I shot him a look, and he sighed.
“It’s not only about the Challenging. You’re the most powerful Descended in the realm. Magic like that can be dangerous if it’s not controlled.”
“Come on, Queenie,” Taran said with a sly grin. “Don’t you want to get all hot and sweaty training with me and Lu?”
I raised my brows at Eleanor and Luther. “Is he always like this?”
“Yes,” they groaned in unison.
“Fine,” I said, laughing. “I’ll train with Luther and Alixe. And Taran, if I must.”
I turned to Luther, looking at him closely for the first time since our intimate moment. That striking, unguarded smile of his was peeking through. A glint in his eyes hinted at a secret only we shared, putting my heart right back into a gallop.
For a beat that stretched on far too long, I couldn’t tear my gaze from him, nor he from mine, and the silence turned awkward. I looked at Eleanor to find her glancing between us with a knowing, I-told-you-so smirk.
Taran, for possibly the first time in his near-immortal life, didn’t take the bait. Instead, he clapped a hand on my back.
“Some of the younger cousins are hosting a dinner tonight. You should join us.”
Eleanor nodded eagerly. “Yes, you must come.”
I cringed. “I don’t know, I might have had enough public humiliation for one day.”
“This is family,” Taran said. “We may want to kill each other sometimes—”
“Frequently,” Luther mumbled.
“—but we’re still family. We take care of each other.”
“But I’m not family. Not really.”
“All the more reason you should come,” Eleanor said. “The sooner everyone starts seeing you as a Corbois, the better.”
I looked back to Luther. “What do you think?”
“Are you asking me to advise you?” he asked, mischief in his tone.
I swatted at him. “Forget I asked.”
He caught my hand and held onto it, tucking it into his. “Come to the dinner. I can’t promise it will be pleasant, but it would be good for them to get to know you. This group is young and social. They could be some of your best ambassadors to the other Houses.”
I had a hard time focusing past the feeling of his fingers wrapped around mine. “I, um... I’ll think about it.”
Taran and Eleanor headed back for the door, arguing about some bet they couldn’t agree who had won, while Luther lingered at my side.
“I’m sorry about today. I should have made sure your father wasn’t there.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s my duty to protect you from these things.”
“Is it?” I asked softly, tilting my head.
A shadow flashed across his face, but it vanished in an instant, his lips curving up as he fought a losing battle with a smile.
“You said I have yet to earn your favor. I’m giving it my best shot.”
I tried to fake a scowl but the amusement on his face was too infectious, too refreshingly real.
Whispering caught my attention. Near the door, Eleanor and Taran watched us with pursed lips and raised brows.
I retreated quickly, then clasped my hands behind my back and cleared my throat. “In that case, I think you owe Eleanor an
apology.”
“I do?” he asked.
“He does?” she repeated.
I nodded. “I recall you being quite rude to her earlier about a certain choice of dress color, and yet here you are begging my
forgiveness.”
Luther’s eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Go on then.” I jerked my head toward Eleanor and flashed him a wicked grin. “Earn my favor, Prince.”
A grumble rolled around in his throat, his smile flattening to a thin line. With a deep breath and a brief lift of his eyes to the ceiling, he crossed the room to his cousin.
“Eleanor, please accept my—”
I scoffed. “Oh no, that won’t do at all. You nearly made my dear friend cry. That calls for some serious groveling.” I dipped my head. “Down there. On your knees.”
He shot me a dark look. “With all due respect to my lovely cousin, the only person I’m getting down on my knees for is you, my Queen.”
Taran cackled loudly. “Queenie, you hear that? Lu wants to get on his kn—”
Luther flicked his wrist, and a burst of shadow flew from his palm and smacked against Taran’s face, sealing like a gag across his mouth. Taran yelped and tugged at the dark patch as he let loose a string of muffled curses.
I crossed my arms, tapping one foot. “Eleanor and I are waiting, Prince.”
Luther growled and sank to one knee. He cut me a sharp look before reaching up and taking Eleanor’s hand. “Eleanor, cousin, I—”
“Use my title, please,” she corrected haughtily. “Advisor to the Crown.”
Giddiness exploded across my face. I flashed Eleanor a thumb’s up.
Taran finally ripped the shadow away from his mouth and grinned. “I never, ever want to forget this moment.”
“You three are enjoying this far too much,” Luther muttered.
“Keep going,” I prodded.
“Eleanor, cousin, Advisor to the Crown, I’m very sorry for my earlier rudeness. I have learned my lesson, and I am quite humbled. Forgive me?”
Eleanor tapped a finger against her chin and frowned. “Hmm. Diem, what do you think? Should I forgive him?”
I shrugged. “You could make him beg a little.”
“This is the greatest day of my life,” Taran breathed.
“You have five seconds before I walk out of this room,” Luther warned.
“Alright, alright,” I laughed. “Forgive him!”
Eleanor clasped her other hand over Luther’s. “Fine then. Diem says—oh, sorry, Taran and I know her as Diem, I think you
only know her as Her Majesty—”
“Two seconds.”
“Diem says I should forgive you, and I cannot deny my Queen.” She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. “All is forgiven, cousin.”
Luther rose to his feet. “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t come to the dinner. You getting to know any more cousins is not going to end well for me.”
“You’re only convincing her more,” Eleanor crooned, and my grin confirmed it.
Taran looped his arm through Eleanor’s, and they turned to leave. Luther shot me a brief, loaded smile before moving to join them.
“Wait—” I rushed over and grabbed his arm to pull him back. His cousins disappeared into the hallway, leaving us alone once more.
I threw caution to the wind and leaned up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek, just above his jawline, letting my lips linger on the rough skin of his scar for longer than I should have. I heard his sharp breath in my ear and felt his hand press again to the bare skin low on my back.
I pulled back slightly and offered him a glimpse of my happiness, free of all guile, just as he had done for me. “Thank you for bringing my father. And for being a good sport. My favor is well on its way to being earned.” I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip. “And now when you claim I kissed you, you’ll finally be telling the truth.”
He shook his head, eyes glittering, the words in them clear—I was always telling the truth, and you know it.
For once, he didn’t call me on my bullshit. Instead, he dragged the hand on my back slowly up my spine and curved high on my nape. His fingers twined in my hair as his mouth slid into a half smile, his face so ruggedly handsome I could barely breathe.
His hand curled into a fist, tugging at my hair—gently, but enough to pull a gasp from my lips and an arch from my back. He leaned into my ear. “If a kiss is the reward, my Queen, I’ll get on my knees for you whenever you want.”
He released me and gave me a wink before slipping into the hallway and closing the door behind him.
I waited until I heard his footsteps fade away, then turned my back to the door and slumped to the ground, a warm pulse between my legs and a single thought dominating my mind.
I’m in very big trouble.
