Chapter
Twenty-One
or the next several hours, I convinced myself of all the reasons I shouldn’t attend the dinner.F I would be intruding on a private family event. I would surely become the focus of the dinner, and I’d had enough of being in the spotlight today. I would almost certainly say or do something that would get me in trouble. Again.
And Luther would be there. I hadn’t decided whether that was a mark in favor or against.
I had done such an effective job that by the time the hour struck to depart, I was curled up in my bed, three fingers of whiskey deep and surrounded by silver platters of half-eaten chocolates.
I heard the clock chime and glanced at Sorae, who was laying outside on her perch, head raised skyward with eyes closed as she relished the evening breeze along her feathers.
“Do you think I’m a fool for not going?” I called out to her.
She gave no sign that she’d heard me beyond a lazy swish of her tail.
“You do. You think I’m a coward.”
More silence. More half-hearted tail flips.
“You think I should go.”
She cracked one golden yellow eye and turned it my direction.
“Sorae, you know I’ll find some way to embarrass myself, and then I’ll come back up here and wallow in self-pity all night.”
Her gaze shifted to the crystal decanter hanging from my chocolate-splotched hand.
I frowned. “Fine, maybe I’m already wallowing.”
I slipped out of bed and cleaned myself off, then opened my wardrobe, eying the medley of ethereal fabrics. “Even if I did go, what would I wear? After this morning, it would have to be perfect.”
I pulled three long dresses from the wardrobe, all in muted colors of dark grey and navy. “What about these?”
Sorae looked at the dresses, then at me, then turned her head back to the evening sky, her eyes snapping shut.
I groaned and tossed them aside. Two more caught my eye, both in brighter colors but modest silhouettes. “Better?”
She huffed disapprovingly without even bothering to look.
“Let me guess, you want me to pick something like this?” I reached for the most inappropriate item I could find, an emerald satin thing that was little more than a scrap of fabric held together by golden chains.
Sorae’s head swung all the way around. A flicker of pale blue flames danced out from between rows of dagger-sharp teeth.
“This? Really? For a family dinner?”
She blinked slowly.
I changed into the dress, blushing even in my solitude at how it put practically every inch of me on exhibition. The draped neckline barely covered my breasts, and ruching at the waist pulled one side of the short hem all the way to my hip. Even the covered parts of me felt exposed under the cling of the silken fabric. The gilded chains that secured it to my body were frighteningly delicate, looking ready to snap at the slightest tug—and if they did, the entire dress might go down with it.
“You’re certain this is wise? I might as well be naked.”
Sorae cocked her head, as if to say That wouldn’t be a bad choice, either.
I gulped and slipped on a pair of heeled sandals with straps that wound up my calves and over my knee. I strapped a dagger to my thigh, its sharp point peeking from beneath the hem—just enough to remind anyone who dared to look too closely that I was a threat, and I could defend myself if I had to.
I studied myself in the mirror. The fearsome woman who stared back felt like a stranger. She was sexy, she was confident in her own skin. She cared nothing of the judgments of others, and she wore the Crown as if it had always been hers to wield.
Maybe I wasn’t her, not yet—but I was good at pretending. A little too good, sometimes. I could play her for one night.
I pulled the side of my hair up with a glittering diamond clip and glanced over my shoulder for a last once-over. A swath of emerald fabric barely covered the curve of my ass, and over my back, a web of glimmering golden chains crisscrossed my tawny skin.
My eyes lingered on my lower back where Luther’s hand had caressed me. Goosebumps prickled my skin at the memory.
I painted my lips with a balm the color of dark wine, then gave Sorae a glance. “Should I bring a shawl, just in case, or an overcoat, or maybe a quilt and a heavy cloak—”
She let loose a low snarl.
“Fine.” I took a steadying breath. “Just this. Just... me.”
CLIMBING into a pit of starving gryverns would have been less intimidating than walking into a dining room of young, beautiful Corbois cousins.
Sorae’s choice for my attire had been unsurprisingly perfect. Most of the women, and a few of the men, were clad in outrageously sexy dresses that left little to the imagination. Many were studded with gemstones worth a small fortune or enhanced with magical flares of light or shadow. Several men were shirtless, their upper halves ornamented with chains, leather straps, or armored plates. One person wasn’t wearing clothes at all, their naked body covered in swirls of shadow magic strategically placed over their intimate areas. I should have known House Corbois would see family gatherings primarily as a chance to compete for the spotlight.
For a moment, I worried I might not have gone far enough. In this room, my dress seemed almost plain. But instead of letting it feed my insecurity, I made it into my own quiet strength.
I didn’t need baubles or tricks to steal attention. I was the Queen, and I wore the Crown of Lumnos on my head. There was no spotlight I couldn’t steal, no room in the realm I didn’t command.
The hall was loud with conversation when I entered. All the cousins looked near to me in age, though looks were misleading—Descended could appear to be in their youth for decades, even centuries. There were around fifty present in total, all seated at a long, narrow dining table, with a few laughing boisterously near a well-stocked bar. Servants scurried around with plates and drinks, and music flowed from a quartet in a far corner.
My lungs seized up. As I strongly debated sprinting back to my chambers, a few eyes turned to me and went wide, and I was stuck. I had already fled one event today. I needed to change perceptions, not confirm them.
Luther saw me and shot to his feet. He was dressed in his usual attire, finely made but understated. Like me, he never had to try to command attention. He simply did.
His lips parted as he looked me over. Even from across the room, the heat of him pressed against me, drawing sweat to the back of my neck. His gaze traveled the expanse of my body, nostrils flaring as it caught on my bare thigh. When his eyes cut back to mine, the hunger raging behind them had my blood humming.
The conversation fell to a hush as the room took notice of my presence.
“Diem,” a voice called out, smooth as cream.
Aemonn strutted toward me with a glass of sparkling wine in hand. The tailored jacket of his slim-fitting white suit hung open over his bare chest, which was painted with gold whorls that swirled up his throat to his sky-high cheekbones.
“You look ravishing.”
I gave him a restrained smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not. It’s hardly a family affair without our most important member.” Aemonn turned to the room and cleared his throat. “Cousins, may I present Her Majesty, Queen Diem Corbois.”
A number of heads—though decidedly not all—dipped in response.
“Thank you for having me,” I said. “And please, call me Diem—unless you’ve been instructed otherwise.” I glanced at Luther, and we shared the hint of a smile.
Aemonn offered his hand and led me to the table. “Ellie told me she invited you. I held a seat open in the hopes you’d join us.”
I stiffened. The chair beside Aemonn’s was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. I would have no allies to save me if the conversation took a turn for the worse. Only Eleanor was close enough to speak with, though not with any level of secrecy.
Taran and Alixe were further down, just in earshot but too far to comfortably converse, and further still sat Luther.
My gaze met his again. His eyes had lost none of their passion, but his features were now sharp, his expression guarded.
His jaw muscles feathered as he watched Aemonn lean into my ear.
“I’m afraid your chaperone chose other company tonight,” Aemonn murmured.
Sure enough, Iléana sat at Luther’s side. She looked predictably stunning, her golden waves swept into a graceful updo, her ample cleavage bursting from a saffron-colored corset streaked with twisting black vines. She glanced up from her conversation with Alixe to see me watching her. Her lips, full and stained blood red, curved into a satisfied smile as she took Luther’s hand and wove her fingers with his.
My gut felt as if I had been stabbed clean through. I reminded myself again and again that I was a betrothed woman with no right to care, but hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the hurt that constricted my throat.
I gave Aemonn a blasé shrug. It was no struggle to make my tone go cold. “I thought Iléana wasn’t a Corbois.”
“She isn’t. Luther must have invited her.”
The knife gouged a little deeper.
Aemonn huffed a sigh. “Quite rude to bring an outsider to a family dinner, if you ask me, but Luther has always thought the rules don’t apply to him.”
He gestured to a servant, and a coupe of bubbly liquid was placed in my hand. The last time I indulged on Descended wine, I’d spilled my most dangerous secret, but I was jealous and annoyed and still buzzed from the whiskey, so good decision making was officially off the table. I downed it in a single gulp.
“Diem,” Eleanor called out cheerfully. She rushed over and clasped my hands in hers. “You look stunning. I thought I’d have to bribe you to get you into this dress.”
I smiled. “Hopefully this one is a little less dramatic than my last choice.”
She looked me over with a mischievous grin. “Oh, it’s certainly dramatic.”
I ran my hand along her floor-length, deep indigo gown, admiring the winding cutouts that circled her torso and legs, where sparks of light magic twinkled against her exposed skin. “You’re gorgeous, Eleanor. What a regal color.” I winked. “Perfect for a royal advisor.”
She gave my hand a soft squeeze. “I’m so glad you came. I can rearrange chairs if you’d rather sit by...” Her voice faded as she peered over her shoulder. I tried not to follow her line of sight, but the wine was already instigating bad choices.
Luther had turned toward Iléana. Though their fingers were no longer clasped, one of her hands draped over his thigh, the other toying with his hair, and she was laughing as if he’d said the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“I’m fine here,” I rushed out.
She frowned. “I really don’t think he—”
“It’s none of my business. Besides, the point of me coming was to get to know the other cousins, wasn’t it?”
She studied my face with evident skepticism. “I suppose so.”
“Any words of advice?”
She surveyed my tablemates, her expression lighting with a confident fire I hadn’t seen in her before. This dinner was a game of court, and Eleanor Corbois was finally in her element.
“This group is used to being around power, so the Crown alone won’t intimidate them. They’re going to test you to see how you react.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t take the bait. If you get angry, they’ll think they’ve won.”
I tensed. Reining in my temper wasn’t exactly my greatest skill.
“This place is like a jungle,” she said. “They all think they’re the deadliest creatures in the forest, and they want to see where you fit in. You need to show them that you’re not just a predator—you’re the apex predator. And they can either join your pack or become your prey.”
A smile slowly grew onto my lips. This, I could do. False arrogance was my weapon of choice. If the young elite of House Corbois wanted a show of strength, I would give them a night to remember.
Back at the table, conversation had resumed. Most had already grown bored of me and turned their attention to other matters. The arrival of the unusual new Queen had been barely more than a blip.
Strangely, that knowledge gave me a burst of confidence. A servant had already refilled my wine, and I downed the entire glass again, letting the effervescent warmth that spread through my chest ignite me.
I pulled out my chair and perched my right foot in the seat. My fingers skimmed along my leg, over my knee and higher still, catching the hem of my dress until my naked thigh was on full display.
Aemonn watched with brazen lust, licking his lips and lounging against his armrest as if my display was solely for him. I shot him a sinful smile.
“Mind helping me with this?” I asked coyly, trailing a finger along the holstered dagger. “I’d hate for it to snag my pretty dress.”
“With pleasure.” His eyes glittered with the thrill of the game. I could tell he knew I was playing at something—and he was all too happy to join in. He spread his legs wide. “Come closer so I can get a better look.”
I hesitated a beat. He had given me an order, not a request. Should I shut him down—or would that look like I feared a challenge?
Perhaps he saw the debate warring in my head, because he gave me the briefest wink. “I’m terribly clumsy. I would hate to nick that exquisite skin of yours and have to explain myself to an angry gryvern.”
I smirked and moved in front of him, perching on the edge of the table and placing my foot in between his open thighs.
Conversation once again fell silent, everyone around us watching in rapt silence.
He wrapped both hands around my ankle and held my gaze as his palms glided up my leg and under the hem of my skirt. He slowed his movements as he rode higher, his fingers pressing in against the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. Despite myself,
goosebumps rose on my skin. Aemonn’s expression went utterly feline.
I clicked my tongue at him and shook my head. “Naughty cousin. Just the knife.” He gave me a pout, and I shrugged. “For now.”
“A woman who makes you work for the prize. What a rarity these days.” He released my thigh and grabbed the fabric of my dress, hitching it up above the blade.
“Perhaps you’ve grown too used to women who are impressed with your fancy title.” I placed my hands on his armrests and leaned in closer. “Unfortunately for you, mine’s a little fancier.”
With an elaborate show of keeping his hands away from my skin, Aemonn pulled my blade from its sheath. He gave the knife a skillful twirl in his fingers, then offered it out to me, handle first.
I took the blade from his hand and my leg from his chair, but his thighs only spread wider. “Lucky for the both of us, my title isn’t the only thing women find impressive.”
I gave Aemonn an amused look, then glanced down to his groin and back to him. “Let’s hope House Corbois has more to offer me than that.”
Snickers and whispers skittered around us. With lightning speed, I whipped around and slammed the point of the dagger into the table beside my wine.
The crack of the blade splitting wood and the rattling of dishes from the impact silenced the room. I slid smoothly into my seat and gave a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “Just in case I need it.”
The Corbois cousins assessed me with new, curious eyes.
It was an effort not to look at Luther or Eleanor to see what they thought of my antics. I forced myself to stay focused— tonight, I needed to stand on my own.
Aemonn jumped in quickly to introduce me to the cousins in talking distance. I felt a little bad about insulting his manhood after he played along so well, though it was fair play for blackmailing me into taking him as my escort to the Ascension Ball.
Now we were even, and the real game could begin.
“That’s a lovely dress, Diem,” one of the cousins—a redhead Aemonn had introduced as Ethaline—said with a sneer. I immediately regretted giving them all permission to address me so informally. “Almost as lovely as your attire this morning.”
“And the night she arrived,” another cousin murmured, only mildly attempting to conceal his voice as he sipped his wine.
More giggles and whispers arose, this time at my expense.
I sighed overdramatically and leaned back against my chair. “As you all know by now, I was raised by a mortal family.” I paused, remembering Iléana’s presence. “After the untimely death of my father, Harold Corbois, that is.”
A few knowing chuckles flitted around the room.
“In the mortal world, we wear black to a funeral to show respect for the dead. I only intended to do the same for King Ulther.”
“We?” Ethaline interrupted. “So you see yourself as a mortal?”
“Of course I don’t,” I said quickly, hating the lie. Hating that I wasn’t sure if it even was a lie. “I’m a Descended Queen, aren’t I?”
“And what of the lighting of the pyre?” another cousin asked—Tyris, a handsome male with a mop of dark blue curls. “We were hoping to see a show.”
“I’ll be sure to let Sorae know you found her insufficient,” I said curtly. “Perhaps she’ll give you a personal demonstration to show you what she’s capable of.”
“It wasn’t Sorae we found insufficient,” Ethaline said, sharing a smug look with Tyris.
I shot her a sizzling glare. “Then perhaps I’ll show you what I’m capable of.”
She raked her eyes over me without even an ounce of intimidation, but a deep, commanding voice had her expression going cold.
“Having been on the wrong end of Her Majesty’s power myself, I can assure you, Ethaline, there’s not a soul in Emarion that would find it insufficient.”
I steeled my hammering heart and fought to keep from turning to the source. A servant refilled my wine, and I took it into my hands, managing to restrain myself to a sip.
“High praise, coming from you, Prince,” Ethaline said, her lashes fluttering prettily. I rolled my eyes.
“It wasn’t praise,” Luther said flatly. “It was fact. Only someone with a death wish would think of Challenging her.”
My attention started to drift toward him. Aemonn pulled it back with an exasperated groan.
“This conversation is a bore. For once, I am in agreement with cousin Luther. Diem hardly needs to prove herself to us.”
Aemonn raised his glass and tilted it to me. “House Corbois supports you, Your Majesty.”
I answered his flirtation with a thankful smile. Selfish as his motives may be, he had decided to stand by me tonight, and I was grateful for it.
“Your eye color is quite unique,” Tyris cut back in. “They almost seem...”
“Grey,” I answered. “They’re colorless.”
“And the mortals you grew up with never thought that was strange?”
“Oh, they did. The children used to tease me for it. They said grey eyes meant I had no soul and ate newborn babes to stay young.”
A cousin far down the table leaned forward and called out, “Were they right?”
I smirked back at him. “Cross me, and you’ll find out.”
A loud ripple of laughter followed. I dared a glance at Eleanor, who was beaming at me proudly. Our strategy was working. My face lit up with renewed courage.
“So where do those grey eyes of yours come from?” Tyris asked.
“From Blessed Mother Lumnos,” Luther answered.
Everyone at the table turned to him. I had no choice but to do the same, but now it was Luther who refused to look at me.
The blade he’d left in my heart twisted even further.
He stared into his wine glass as he rolled it in his fingers. “Lumnos had grey eyes. She gifted her offspring with blue eyes at the Forging, but hers always remained grey.”
“How do you know that?” I asked softly—so soft that I wasn’t sure he’d heard me, until his own slate blue gaze finally lifted to mine.
There was an answer written in his features, but it wasn’t one I understood. It was an answer loaded with secrets and hard truths and pain he had yet to share. A door he had locked up tight, welded closed, and covered in chains.
A door he was daring me to open.
“Luther is our resident expert on all things Mother Lumnos,” Aemonn jeered. “He’s always been such a devout little disciple. I heard he even has a full-body statue of her in his bedroom. How scandalous.”
“It’s only a bust, not a statue.” The words came out of my mouth before I realized what I had done—what my words had
implied.
The room went quiet.
“You were in his bedroom?” Iléana demanded, her glare so sharp it could draw blood.
I spent the night in his bedroom, I wanted to say, but my liquid boldness had thankfully not yet hit that level of shit-starting.
“Curious, indeed,” Aemonn murmured. I glanced to see him watching me, his expression markedly cooler than it had been earlier.
Luther’s voice turned venomous as he shifted his focus to Aemonn. “Mind what you say about the Blessed Mother, cousin.
Heresy is a crime punishable by death.”
Aemonn smiled. “You are certainly the expert on that, Keeper of the Laws. So many lives have met their sad end at your hand for such infractions.”
I couldn’t stop it—the doubt that crept in. The suspicion. The judgment.
I knew Luther hadn’t killed the half-mortal children under the progeny laws, as Aemonn had once suggested. But there were other unjust laws, more flimsy excuses to execute mortals at the King’s whim. And those victims hadn’t escaped. I had seen their bloody bodies. I had attended their funerals.
Luther’s expression darkened. I could feel him begging me not to give up on him, not to take Aemonn’s bait and believe the
worst.
I looked away.
The cousin sitting across from me, pin-thin and androgynous, whose name I remembered to be Velis, leaned forward on their elbows and gestured to my throat. “Is that a scar?”
I reached up and traced the small crescent of shiny skin at my collarbone. “It is. I got it when I was young, climbing some rocks with my br... with a friend,” I corrected quickly, unsure how many of them had heard about Teller.
“Climbing rocks?” Ethaline snorted. “How quaint.”
“It’s quite useful for building finger strength,” I purred, raising my hands into a neck-strangling motion that had Ethaline’s face going pale.
“You can get that removed, you know,” Velis said. “Normally, once our healing powers manifest, we make a trip to the healers in Fortos to remove any—” Their eyes cut to my scar, nose wrinkling. “—imperfections we gained in childhood.”
I shrugged. “I like my scars. Perfection is boring.”
“They’re unseemly for a Queen,” Iléana said loudly. “It’s a sign of weakness.”
A handful of cousins nodded at her words.
“You have a problem with scars?” I asked, glancing between her and Luther with eyebrows raised.
“I have a problem with the Crown of Lumnos having scars,” she said. “How can we expect the mortals or the other realms to fear us if our Crown is walking around covered in flaws?”
Another round of nodding heads and hushed agreement, this time more widespread.
I frowned at Luther, but he was staring straight ahead, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Iléana took a sip of wine and smirked like she’d won something. “Don’t look so shocked, Diem. Luther feels the same
way.” She ran a hand possessively along his forearm and gave him an adoring smile. “He swore to me he’ll have his scars removed before he becomes King.”
Luther was carved in stone. Neither his face nor his body shifted even a hair. His eyes were glaciers, cold and slow- moving, empty of life. To the room, he looked entirely unbothered, perhaps too indifferent to even be listening.
It was his aura that gave him away—the one sign only I had strong enough magic to detect. Its presence grew dark, unbearably heavy, seeming to drag me with it as it shrank toward him and coiled within.
How often had he been forced to endure conversations like these? How frequently had he been made to feel defective or inferior? My heart broke for the little boy who had made the brave decision not to have his scar healed away, and for the teenager and the young man who had surely been forced to justify that choice again and again.
I glanced at Taran, who was scowling at Iléana and looked just as furious as I felt, and at Alixe, whose eyes were raised to the ceiling as if she’d been through this discussion too many times before.
Whiskey and wine swirled hot in my chest, and my pulse picked up speed as my temper rose.
“I can’t speak for the other realms, but I can attest that mortals do not see a scar as a sign of weakness,” I spat out. “Quite the opposite. And on that, I couldn’t agree with them more.”
Luther’s attention shifted to me, though he remained deadly still. Iléana seethed.
“A scar is a sign of survival,” I continued. “Of endurance. It’s a sign that its bearer triumphed over what might have killed a lesser person. To show off your scars is to tell the world you’re not ashamed of what you’ve overcome. Frankly, I can’t imagine any better symbol of strength. And if Luther were my King, then I would make him swear to me he would never remove it. I would hope he wore it with pride for the rest of his life.”
A thunderous silence settled over the room. Even the servants froze with bated breath.
Iléana looked at me with such murderous poison in her eyes that if I had her arrested for actively plotting to kill the Queen, not a soul in the room would have disagreed.
I held her glare, jaw locked, refusing to back down from her open challenge.
Aemonn carved through the tension with a flippant wave of his hand. “What a shame it is, then, that Luther could never be your King.” He gave a light chuckle. “Or perhaps a blessing.”
Nervous laughter rippled around the room.
“But he could be her King Consort,” Velis argued, looking me over thoughtfully. “It would be a smart match. Likely the most powerful couple the realm has ever seen.”
“And we already know she’s seen the inside of his bedroom,” Tyris added, snickering.
My cheeks flushed, and I swore internally at my body for giving me away. The cousins tittered and smiled, though Aemonn’s expression had lost its mirth.
“Think of the powerful children they would produce,” Velis added. “It could keep the Crown in House Corbois for centuries. If Diem is coronated, I imagine Remis will start planning the wedding in a matter of weeks.”
“When,” Luther snapped. “Not if she is coronated. When.”
“That remains to be seen,” Iléana huffed.
“Do you agree with Velis then, Prince?” Tyris asked. “That a match between you and Diem would be in the best interest of House Corbois?”
I couldn’t bear to look at Luther to see his reaction. I didn’t want to know his answer.
For so, so many reasons.
“It’s not for me to decide, nor my father. Her Majesty is entitled to choose whatever Consort she sees fit.”
I sagged with relief. It was a smart answer. A safe answer. And a kind one—a private show of support, given the secrets he
knew.
If only he had stopped there.
“As for me, my interest lies in serving my Queen, not in marrying her.”
I had no right to feel hurt.
No right to flinch, especially as Iléana’s victorious giggle rang in my ears. No right to feel my heart clutch and my throat burn. I had no right at all to want any other answer from him.
But gods, I had.
“Unlike my short-sighted cousin, I am quite interested in serving Diem in every possible way,” Aemonn crooned to a bevy of laughter. He turned his chair toward me and took my hands. They were shaky, and I knew from the firm squeeze he gave me that he felt it, but his only reaction was to flash me his dazzling smile.
His eyes flicked briefly to Luther, disdain gnarling his perfect face. “Iléana may be more to Luther’s tastes, but I have never in my life seen a creature more stunning than our fair Queen.” He raised my hand to his mouth, holding my eyes as he kissed the back of my palm, then the other, followed by a slow smirk that hinted at our shared game.
“Thank you,” I whispered to him. “You’ve been a good friend to me tonight.”
He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in my eyes. “I am your most humble servant.”
I shot him a look. “Most humble?”
He grinned and leaned in close. “Fair point. Most sexy? Most devastatingly handsome?” His eyes turned wicked. “Most talented in bed?”
I laughed despite myself, and Aemonn lit up at the response. He crooked a finger under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“Iléana is a bore. We’ve all had to put up with her for far too long because of Luther’s affection for her. It’s a relief to have someone willing to challenge him and put her in her place.”
I tried to smile, but the thought of her, and of him, had my spirits tumbling. “You never seem to shy away from challenging him.”
He beamed as if that was the greatest compliment he could have received. “My dear cousin does a very good job of playing the faithful servant to the Crown, but he forgets that some of us know the truth about him.”
I swallowed. “And what’s that?”
“That Luther Corbois is a man with many secrets. And many plans.”
Finally, I mustered up the courage to peer down the table toward Luther’s chair.
But he was gone.
And so was Iléana.
