Chapter
Twenty-Two
ou were amazing. Incredible. Perfect. Sheer brilliance!”“Y I hooked my arm through Eleanor’s as we walked from dinner back to my suite—both out of fondness and the effects of the Descended wine that had the hallways careening around me. “You think it went that well?”
“It was exactly what you needed after the funeral,” she gushed. “If there was any doubt whether you can hold your own among us, it’s certainly gone now.”
I chewed on my lip and frowned. “There were some awkward moments.”
“And you handled them perfectly.” She tugged me in closer. “Accidentally spilling wine in Ethaline’s lap after she offered to take bets on the Challenging was an especially nice touch.”
“So clumsy of me,” I said innocently, drawing a cackle from Eleanor.
“They may not like you, but they certainly think you’re a vicious little beast.”
“I can work with that.”
We walked and giggled, recounting the highlights of the night. After Luther’s disappearance, the cousins had pounced with interrogations on my mortal upbringing. I managed to placate them with harmless stories without revealing anything too personal, thanks in large part to some well-timed interruptions from Eleanor and Aemonn. The two of them had been a good pair, giving me space to stand on my own without letting me drown in the process.
“Thank you for tonight, Eleanor,” I said. “Having you as my advisor has been a gift from the gods.”
“A Blessing from the Kindred,” she corrected gently. “That’s what a Descended would say.”
I frowned. “The Kindred are gods, are they not?”
“Well, yes, but...” She hesitated, appearing to brace herself for my reaction. “I heard you say ‘by the Flames’ during dinner.”
That was bad—and worse that I hadn’t even noticed. References to the ancient mortal religions, including any mentions of the Everflame, were forbidden as heresy. Even though I was exempt from the laws as the Crown, it would do me no favors in preventing a Challenge.
“If it had happened at the ball, in front of the other Houses...”
“I understand,” I said quickly. “Did anyone notice?”
“If so, it was quickly forgotten. Aemonn jumped in and said something outrageous.”
I gave a deep sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Aemonn was a blessing tonight, as well. Do you still think I can’t trust him?”
She hummed in thought. “He did brand himself as your ally to the whole House tonight, even though his father hasn’t. That’s no small thing—especially for Aemonn. But he also made it clear that he’s aiming for your hand in marriage. If he finds out about your betrothal, he could turn on you.”
“He already knows.”
She gaped at me. “He does?”
“I accidentally revealed it that first day in the garden. I’m taking him as my escort to the ball in exchange for his silence.”
“Interesting.” Her expression went pensive. “Perhaps he thinks he can talk you out of it. Or perhaps he’s planning to wait out the mortal’s death and marry you after.”
“He would do that?”
She gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my arm. “Mortal lifetimes are so short compared to ours. It’s why we don’t often get close to them—they’re gone so quickly.”
I doubted there was anything more excruciating she could have said to me.
The despair I had been diligently trying to bury was beginning to claw its bony fingers back up through the soil when Eleanor paused beside me. I looked up to see Luther leaning against the wall across from my chamber door and glaring at the ground.
“I should get to bed,” she rushed out. “Big day tomorrow.”
My protests died with one glance at Luther’s harsh expression. I gave her a quick embrace and she scurried away.
I walked—fine, carefully wobbled—down the hall without sparing Luther a glance as my guards rushed to open the heavy
iron doors.
“I wish to speak with you in private.”
Even without seeing him, I felt the dark rumble of his mood roll through the air.
A storm was brewing.
“In my room?” I asked lightly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about your interests.”
“Fuck their impressions,” he snarled.
His tone shocked even the guards, who eyed us both with unease. One of them stepped into place at my side, hand resting on his weapon.
“You will address Her Majesty with respect,” he barked.
The hallway fell silent. I had never seen a guard so much as glance at Luther the wrong way, let alone openly challenge him.
I turned to intervene before Luther’s temper left me with a vacancy to fill and a pool of blood to mop up when my eyes
stopped on a familiar face.
“Perthe?” I gasped.
The guard’s demeanor relaxed. “Your Majesty remembers me?”
I laughed and threw my arms around his neck. I hadn’t seen Perthe since the night I’d dragged him out of the burning armory after his legs were shattered by a falling beam. We were strangers to each other then, but something about nearly dying at his side made him feel like an old, dear friend.
“You’re healed,” I cried, marveling at his sturdy body.
“They took me to the healers in Fortos to speed my recovery.” His eyes cut upward to the Crown. “It seems we’re both much improved since we last spoke.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed that the Crown was an improvement to my life, but seeing Perthe healed and smiling was enough to have me grinning back. Guilt had been haunting me for the role I played in the Guardians’ attack, and to know that Perthe had not only survived, but recovered in full, was a salve I’d deeply needed.
“I didn’t know you were a palace guard,” I said. “Does this mean you’re a Corbois?”
“He is neither,” Luther answered from behind me. “Perthe hails from House Benette, but he is on special duty as a member of your personal sentry.”
Perthe nodded. “When I returned to Lumnos and discovered that the woman who saved my life was the new Queen, I asked Prince Luther if I could serve in your guard. Others who were friends, even family, left me behind to die that night, but you risked your life to rescue me.” He clamped a fist to his chest and bowed low. “It would be my greatest honor to repay that debt.”
“To see you healthy is repayment enough.” I took his hand and squeezed it, ignoring Luther’s grunt of displeasure. “But if you wish to serve me, I gratefully accept. I can think of no man in the entire realm who is more worthy to fight in my defense.”
A bit over the top, perhaps, but worth it for the near-snarl that ripped out of Luther’s mouth.
“If the happy reunion is over, Perthe has a job to return to,” he snapped.
I offered Perthe a gracious smile, then walked past him into the parlor. Behind me, I heard Luther’s footsteps follow, then a scuffle and a low exchange of words.
I turned to see two guards with their weapons crossed over Luther’s chest to block his entry.
“Get out of my way,” he gritted out.
“No one enters without Her Majesty’s consent.”
I couldn’t restrain my grin. It seemed they had learned their lesson from the last time he disciplined them.
Luther glared at them before turning his icy gaze on me. There was a tension in him that seemed coiled too tight, a bowstring stretched too thin. Even without magic or weapons at his hands, he looked more deadly than ever.
“Let him through,” I relented.
No sooner had the guards withdrawn their weapons than Luther had his hands on the back of their necks, shoving them out into the corridor and slamming the doors behind them.
“They’re following your orders. You could be a little less of an ass.”
He practically growled.
Sorae poked her head in to greet me, then took one look at Luther fuming and disappeared back to her perch.
“Traitor,” I shouted her direction. A pulse of amusement answered back over the bond.
I rolled my eyes and stalked across the parlor. I was almost to my bedroom when the heel of my shoe caught on the edge of a rug, and I went ungracefully flailing toward the ground.
Instantly, Luther’s arms were around me. He scooped me out of midair, and my brain swam with the intoxicating effects of sweet wine and hard muscles and large hands. The room spun around me as I somehow continued to move. I had only just
processed that he was carrying me when I went flying again and my back hit the springy mattress of my bed. A few of the dainty chains on my dress snapped at the rough motion.
Luther stood between my legs where they hung off the edge and glared down at me.
“Foot,” he barked, holding out a hand.
My jaw hung open. “What the hell was that for?”
“It’s my duty to protect you. And that includes keeping you from breaking your neck stumbling around drunk on ridiculous
shoes.”
“I’m not drunk,” I slurred back.
His eyes narrowed. “Foot,” he said again, the roughness of his tone stirring something low in my belly.
Jealousy and anger mixed with indignation, layered with a stubborn determination to win this strange battle we were fighting, shaken by alcohol-decimated inhibitions, and poured over a lust I still wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
It was a dangerous cocktail, and I was still in the mood to drink.
My foot slowly began to rise, dragging roughly up his leg. I smiled viciously as his posture drew tight and his fingers twitched. My toes skimmed along his thighs and paused at his waist, hovering just long enough to lure him to reach for me before jerking higher and continuing up his body. When I reached his chest, I flexed my foot, digging the sharp heel of my shoe into the space just over his heart.
Luther didn’t flinch. His hand closed around my ankle and yanked it even higher, holding my stare as he hooked it over his shoulder. He grabbed my waist and dragged my body towards him until the back of my thigh slapped against his hips. My lips popped open, and his eyes gleamed with challenge, daring me to object.
My mouth snapped closed. I was still riding a victorious high from my success at the dinner, and I’d be damned if I lost now. Especially to him.
He held my stare as his hands circled my thighs and deftly began to unwrap the straps that wound from my shoes up my leg.
He could have snapped them off with one strong tug—instead, he took his time lazily sliding them away, then massaging my skin to soothe the marks they’d left behind.
My eyes fluttered as he put his Descended strength to good use on my tendons. The warm, firm pressure of his rolling fingers was divine on my aching calves. I had to grit my teeth to keep from moaning.
“I hope you and Iléana had a nice night,” I said frostily.
Luther watched me but didn’t respond.
I huffed. “You two certainly seemed in a rush to be alone. You didn’t even say goodbye.”
He kept his silent vigil, eyes pinning me in place as he worked his way over my ankle. He slid the shoe off my foot, letting it clatter to the ground, and pulled my foot to his chest.
“I think I see now why you two work so well together. She’s miserable to be around, and you love to be miserable. It’s a perfect match.”
His mouth thinned ever so slightly, and my grin spread wide with triumph. Diem one, Luther zero.
I cockily raised my chin. “She’ll make a lovely Queen Consort for you once I’m dea—ah!” A husky, mortifying sound slid from my lips as Luther’s thumb found just the right spot on my foot, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure up my spine. He circled it again, and my back arched against my will, hands fisting into the sheets.
Luther smiled darkly. Tie game.
He left my leg propped against him and held out his hand. “The other one.”
There was a dominance to his tone, something less than possessive but far more than protective. It thrummed with an unspoken dare—a goading for me to say no, to wave the white flag and pull away—but it also sang with the hint of forbidden promise. A glimpse of what he might offer, if I let myself submit.
I should have hated it. I was a Queen, after all.
But I didn’t.
I really, really didn’t.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he said in that same rumbling, commanding tone.
Though I threw him a scowl, I lifted my other leg and gingerly placed my heel in his hand. His eyes lit up—not with victory, but with excitement, like I’d just given him a gift.
His thumb stroked my ankle, tender and feather light. “Good girl,” he murmured.
My thighs clenched.
Diem one, Luther ten.
With both legs propped against him, there was no keeping the hem of my dress from sliding profanely high. I squirmed in an effort to push it down—even I wasn’t brave enough to be that on display—but Luther dutifully held my gaze, his eyes never leaving mine for a second.
He reached first for my dagger, his fingers plunging down my thigh. I sucked in a breath.
He stilled. “I can stop, if you’d like.”
My heart took its own drunken stumble at the way his voice had suddenly gone gentle, tinged with concern.
But I didn’t want his concern. Concern meant feelings. Feelings were real, and I didn’t—couldn’t—want real. This was just a game.
I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my leg, forcing his hands further. “Go right ahead,” I purred.
He flashed me a whisper of a smile as he adeptly unbuckled my thigh strap and slid the dagger free of its sheath. Still holding my stare, he twisted it again and again in his hand, then leaned forward to set it on my stomach, its point stretching to the soft curve of my breasts.
When I reached to grab it, Luther stopped me with a subtle shake of his head. I frowned at first, not understanding. The dagger was heavy—I’d left Brecke’s blade behind in favor of something bulkier, wanting to show off the threat rather than hide it—and still warm from its contact with my skin. The longer it lay there, the more it felt like a hand—Luther’s hand, pressing me to the mattress and holding me at his mercy.
This time, he made quick work of unwinding the straps and discarding my shoe. He started at the sore ball of my foot and worked his thumbs in slow circles over my flesh, smiling wider with every whimper and mewl I couldn’t hold in.
Diem one, Luther one thousand.
My muscles tightened and loosened, lust-charged blood pounding in my ears. “When you said you wanted to serve me, a foot massage isn’t quite what I had in mind,” I joked, my voice turning hoarse.
His face angled toward my leg, his lips nearly brushing my ankle. “Tell me then, my Queen, how would you like me to serve you?” Both palms dragged down my legs, resting low on my thighs and nudging them apart with the faintest pressure.
“Shall I get back down on my knees until I earn another kiss?”
Heat exploded in my core. The room spun around me, my skin feeling like it might ignite with one more touch. I swallowed hard. “I doubt your lover would approve of that.”
His chin lowered. “Neither would yours.”
Game over.
The words were a bucket of frigid water on my desire. I tossed the dagger off, then yanked my leg from his hands and swung them to the side, hurriedly smoothing down my skirt. With several chains now broken, my dress hung off my shoulder by a single gleaming metallic thread.
I pushed past him and stalked to my wardrobe, snatching a silken robe. I threw it over my shoulders just in time for the last chain to surrender, sending the dress tumbling over my hips and pooling at my feet.
I wrapped the robe tighter and irritably knotted the sash, then slammed the wardrobe shut and whipped to face him. “You were sulking outside my room, so you clearly have something to say. Spit it out.”
Luther’s eyes narrowed, his pupils wide and midnight black. “Your first magic training session is tomorrow.”
“The ball is tomorrow.”
“The ball is tomorrow night. You can train during the day.”
“I need time to prepare.” I tried to remove my diamond hair clip and winced as it snagged in place. “It takes a lot of work to make me look this presentable.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He crossed the room and batted my hands away, deftly untangling the clip and setting it aside. “You forget the conditions I’ve seen you in. I know how easily your beauty shines through.”
He combed his fingers through my hair to smooth it back down. Tingles prickled down my neck as his hands wove through my long waves, catching on the knots and tugging lightly at my scalp.
My pulse spiked—at his touch, at the compliment, at the memory of all those times he’d seen me at my most pitiful, and how little it had done to turn his eye.
My mind felt hazy, my thoughts spinning out of control, and having him this close wasn’t helping. I leaned back against the wardrobe, grounding myself on the cool press of the wood. “Fine. Training tomorrow. Are we done?”
His brows drew in tight. “You’re angry with me.”
“Your skills of deduction are legendary,” I drawled.
He stepped closer, chest rumbling. “If this is about Iléana—”
“It’s not,” I lied, hating the sound of her name in his mouth. “You abandoned me at dinner. You invited me, and then you threw me to the wolves.”
“You seemed cozy enough next to the biggest wolf of them all.” His tone was cold, even for him.
I shrugged. “At least Aemonn stood by my side all night.”
Luther slammed his hands against the wardrobe on either side of my head. “Aemonn is using you,” he snarled.
I refused to flinch at his outburst, raising my jaw to him with an unrelenting glare. “You’re all using me. This whole gods- damned House is using me. Just because I’m choosing to play nice for now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that I’m a mouse in a pit of hungry vipers.”
“A mouse?” He leaned in, strands of my hair swaying in the gust of his ragged breaths. “We may be vipers, but you’re no mouse. You’re a fucking dragon.”
My chest pressed into his as it rose and fell in a harsh, unsteady rhythm. I made a half-hearted attempt to shove him away, but he only pressed closer. His eyes glittered with emotions that terrified me to name.
“What must I do to prove myself to you?” he breathed, sounding as desperate as he was furious. “Break from House Corbois, if you wish. It changes nothing—I will still serve you. Appoint every soul in the realm as your advisor but me. Marry your mortal. Worse, mate yourself off to that snake Aemonn.” His gaze turned dark as a moonless night. “Exile me from the realm. I will serve you from afar.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What could I possibly have done to earn such loyalty?”
Muscles twitched up and down his face, but he guarded his silence.
I laughed, harsh and humorless. “Do you know why I made Eleanor my advisor, Luther? Because she told me the truth. She didn’t hide who she is, or what she wants, or how it could benefit her. She didn’t keep secrets. There were no questions she refused to answer. She showed me all of herself, the good and the bad, and she let me make up my own mind.”
Luther looked away, his shoulders dragged down by some smothering weight. His mask cracked, exposing the struggle raging in his head against the words he held back, forever just beyond my reach.
I knew enough of him now to believe that whatever he was hiding, it wasn’t to hurt me. In fact, I was near certain he had convinced himself that his secrecy was somehow protecting me, in his own twisted way.
But I had spent my entire life being sheltered by people who thought their secrets would protect me. Because of it, I wore a Crown I was woefully unprepared for and faced a Challenging that would very likely kill me.
My patience for secret-keeping had come to an end.
“For all your hatred of Aemonn, at least he’s honest,” I hissed. “He makes it painfully clear what he wants from me and why. With him I know what to expect, instead of the endless gods-damned mystery that is Luther Corbois.”
Outrage washed across his face. “How can you say I haven’t been honest with you? There are things I’ve told you that I haven’t even confessed to Lily or Taran.”
“Why?” I shouted. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He looked miserable, tortured—but still, he did not respond.
My temper finally snapped.
“Well if that’s true, then how pathetic indeed that your closest friends and family know less about you than someone you are nothing to.”
His entire body flinched. He recoiled, pulling away and leaving me panting against the wardrobe door. A chill filled the vacuum that his presence had left, bringing regret along with it.
He turned his back to me and moved for the door.
“Luther, wait. I didn’t mean—”
“I’m glad,” he said, stopping in place. “I’m glad you see that you can’t trust anyone here. It took me years to learn that lesson. And too many innocent people died in the process.”
“Luther,” I said again, softer. I came up behind him and placed a palm on his back. He tensed, then pulled away.
“But you’re a fool if you think that applies only to the Descended,” he said flatly.
When he faced me again, his walls were built anew. All the churning emotions that had been pouring out of him moments ago had boiled off and floated away. Luther was gone, replaced by the cruel, uncaring Prince, the indomitable force who bent for no one—not even his Queen.
“Eventually, your mortal friends and family will come calling, too. They’ll see you as a tool to get what they want. They always do.”
I bristled. “My family is nothing like your family.”
“No?” His voice sounded so hollow, barren of the happiness I’d glimpsed in him only hours ago. His eyes had gone dim, their piercing blue-grey now a dull, lifeless slate. He was fractured, and I was the one holding the hammer. “Your mother never told you lies? Your father never kept secrets?”
I winced at the truth of it.
“And whether you’re willing to see it or not, no one wants to use you more than that pathetic mortal boy.”
“You told me to stay with Henri,” I shot back. “You said ‘we’ll find a way.’ Has your support dried up so quickly?”
“Do not mistake my support as agreement with your choices,” he snapped. “Outside this room, I will stand by any decision you make. I will shed my blood to protect you from any threat, even my own family.” His features warped with disgust. “I’ll give my life to protect him, if that is your command.”
He jabbed a finger toward the door. “Out there, I will do anything you ask of me. Anything. But here, in private, do not expect me to hold my tongue while you give your heart to a man you had to beg to keep from walking away.” His glare sharpened. “A man who only agreed to marry you when you offered him a throne.”
“You were eavesdropping on us,” I gasped, my eyes going wide. “You had no right—”
“I don’t care,” he thundered back. “It’s my job to know the true motives of the people closest to you. I will keep you safe, and I will not apologize for it. Not now, not ever.”
He roughly cupped my face in his hands, his fingers clinging to my skin like he might fall to his death if he ever let me go.
“Not even if you despise me. Not even if I am nothing to you. Because my calling comes from a higher authority than even you can claim, Your Majesty. As she guarded my heart, I will guard over yours. Even if it kills me.”
The aura of his power flared, its pulsating energy flooding the room and seizing me in its furious, desperate grip. A thousand invisible hands clutched my face, my arms, my legs—and everywhere in between. My own power hummed in harmonious response. It clawed against the inside of my skin, pleading to be set free and match his magic’s mighty wrath.
For the most fleeting of heartbeats, the world came to a stop. There was nothing but him and me and this light that burned between us, this glowing beacon we couldn’t ignore, even if it lured us to our destruction.
Every moment with Luther felt like a tug-of-war against fate. Every look, every touch felt weighted with an ominous heft, like each one held some deeper, unseen consequence that went far beyond the two of us. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, and for once, I was sick of fighting it. Sick of fighting him.
I closed my eyes, parted my lips, leaned in, and surrendered.
But his hands fell from my face. His power withdrew, and the warmth of his body vanished. A moment later, the door
slammed closed.
And once again, I was alone.
