Chapter
Twenty-Six
had to hand it to Aemonn—he knew how to make an entrance.I An audible gasp rolled through the ballroom as we stepped onto the raised platform in full view of a crowd that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The massive hall had been decorated to match the palace exterior. Every wall was blanketed in dark, tangled vines speckled with glittering flowers that cast dots of light in motion around the room. The vaulted ceiling disappeared beneath a thick cloud of shadow dusted with glowing orbs that bobbed as if floating in a sea of midnight ink.
If the ballroom had been crafted into a night sky, then Aemonn and I were the full moon, bathing the room in our regal glow.
My dress was the perfect choice. The sheer panels of its corset were edged with white boning and coated in minuscule diamonds that trickled down like falling stardust. Romantic swaths of softest silk hung just off my shoulders, which had been dusted with an opalescent powder, and a waterfall of glittering gossamer skirts made me appear to float as I walked.
The all-white ensemble, together with my colorless eyes and snowy, pearl-embellished hair, painted the picture of a pure,
innocent Queen.
A blank canvas. A blushing bride.
A white flag of surrender.
Soft. Virginal. Harmless.
All the things I wasn’t.
Only my dark, thorny Crown hinted at what lay beneath.
The crowd dropped to their knees, led by the Corbois cousins I’d dined with the evening prior. I caught a few of their eyes, and we shared private, knowing smiles. They knew as well as I did that this look was a costume to disguise my true self—but now they were in on the con, and my success at the dinner had earned their complicity.
Aemonn led me down to the ballroom floor where Remis and Garath were waiting. Remis looked over my attire with an approving nod. “Well chosen, Your Majesty. I presume we’re still aligned regarding our strategy for this evening?”
I fluttered my lashes with feigned empty-headedness. “Whatever you say, Regent.”
Garath’s upper lip twitched as he tried poorly to mask his distaste. “At least you dressed appropriately this time.”
His focus dropped to the golden medallion that hung between my breasts, then shifted to his son with a subtle nod.
Remis and Garath’s wives hovered behind their husbands. They gave me polite nods but otherwise made no effort to approach. In fact, unlike both their husbands and their children, neither woman had made any effort at all to speak with me since my arrival.
My attention lingered on Garath’s wife. She caught my staring and sharply narrowed her eyes. I quickly looked away.
“You look so beautiful!” Lily squealed as she bounced to my side. She ran her hand along the fabric of my dress and sighed.
“I wish Teller could be here. He would be so proud of you.”
My heart clenched. “Thank you for your help this morning.” I looked nervously toward the dance floor. “Let’s hope it pays off.”
“You’ll be perfect, I’m sure of it. And Aemonn is a wonderful dancer. He’ll help you, won’t you cousin?” She targeted Aemonn with a look that was surely meant to be stern but came off adorably unthreatening, like a butterfly trying to pick a fight with a lion.
“Of course,” Aemonn crooned. “I plan to take very good care of our Queen.”
Lily leaned in to kiss my cheek. Just as she was about to pull away, she hovered close and whispered, “Perhaps you can save one dance for my brother? It would mean the world to him.”
My face flushed, and the sneaky smile that played on her lips told me she’d noticed.
I was saved from responding by Eleanor and Taran, who threw his arms around Lily’s waist and swung her in a circle, grinning as she squeaked in surprise. Their mothers jumped forward to scold him for making a scene, and he groaned loudly before setting Lily back on her feet with a rumbling laugh.
Eleanor beamed at me proudly. “You were right about that dress.”
“All the credit belongs to you,” I shouted, raising my voice obnoxiously loud so it carried deep into the crowd. “Your advice is so very invaluable to me. I would be lost without you, Eleanor Corbois.”
She dropped into a curtsy to hide her grin at my lack of subtlety. “It’s my pleasure to serve such a wise and selfless Queen, Your Majesty,” she answered, equally as loud.
Taran raked his eyes over my body and gave a long whistle. “Looking good, Queenie. Too bad about that ugly growth on your arm.”
Aemonn scowled at his brother. “Don’t you have a barrel of wine to drown in? Or perhaps a certain cousin’s ass to bow down and kiss?”
Taran craned his neck around to peer at my backside. “Now that you mention it, cousin Diem does have quite a nice, round little a—”
“Taran!” Eleanor cried out, looking horrified despite her laughter.
“Not her, you tactless buffoon,” Aemonn snapped. “Go find Luther and be a good little sheep. Leave the hard work to those of us who actually care about this family.”
Taran rolled his eyes and maintained his carefree smile, though the hint of a wound flashed across his expression. “I’ll steal you for a dance later, Queenie. I have to make sure you have some fun tonight.”
He strolled away, and I shot Aemonn a look. “A little harsh, don’t you think? He’s your brother.”
“In name only,” Aemonn muttered. “He doesn’t care. He never worries about anyone but himself.”
Before I could launch into a lecture on the value of sibling love, we were inundated with a stream of fawning Corbois. As the royal family, House Corbois had the honor of greeting the Crown first. Since I’d already met most of them, the introductions served primarily as a show of power to the rest of the room.
I caught Eleanor’s hand and insisted she stay near my side, and we all settled in for a long hour of cheek kisses, forced smiles, and fake laughter while I played my part as the hapless ingenue.
As the time droned on, it was impossible not to think of the battle that might be occurring outside the palace gates. My gaze kept wandering to the ballroom doors, expecting a mob of Guardians to burst through at any moment. Every loud drumbeat or dropped dish had my back snapping straight, my body a tightly wound spring ready to launch.
Perthe hovered nearby as my personal sentry, and though I watched him exchange words with other guards, he offered no concrete news—at least none he would share. Only the same message again and again: “Prince Luther says not to worry.
Everything’s under control.”
When the train of Corbois finally ended, the representatives from Emarion’s eight other realms stepped up to greet me, each with a gift on behalf of their Crown.
On the surface, acknowledging them so early in the evening appeared to be a gesture of diplomacy. In reality, it was a not- so-subtle encouragement for them to leave the realm immediately rather than spend another night on Lumnos soil.
The muscled pair of army warriors from neighboring Fortos came first. I’d grown so accustomed to the brash mannerisms of my father’s old army colleagues that the hawkish way in which the Fortos representatives assessed me, then dismissed me, felt like being greeted by a grumpy old friend. For a brief moment, my smile turned genuine. Unsurprisingly, their gift was a weapon—a finely made blade that looked suspiciously like Brecke’s handiwork.
Next came a druidic couple from our northern neighbor, Montios. Their skin was leathery from exposure to the harsh mountain climates, with bright violet eyes that studied me from beneath heavy woolen hoods. Montios was known for its cryptic ways, and their representatives were true to form, refusing to speak even a single word.
Their gift was a thick, fur-lined cloak, presented with a note explaining it was spelled to always keep its wearer warm.
Before I could ask how its magic worked outside their borders, they silently turned and walked straight for the exit.
The green-eyed pair from Arboros presented me with an emerald-hued potion said to cure any ill, save for curses sent directly from the gods. It took great restraint to keep from asking why they hadn’t offered such a gift to my predecessor amid his slow, months-long death.
Mortal rumors claimed the Faunos Descended could take on animal characteristics, or even shift into animal form, but the yellow-eyed representatives who arrived next looked disappointingly human. They presented me with two cute, furry animals that they claimed were a delicacy for gryverns, which I promptly handed off to Lily after making her swear not to take them anywhere near Sorae.
The linen-robed, red-skinned women from the deserts of Ignios came next, offering a white spydersilk scarf so strong it could not be penetrated by any metal weapon, no matter how sharp. Then came the aqua-eyed sailors from Meros, whose filthy language and irreverent demeanor won me over instantly. They gifted me with a compass they claimed would point toward whatever my heart desired most.
When I gave it an initial glance, it pointed vaguely at the back of the palace—perhaps toward Mortal City, or my family’s home on the marsh, or the island where I might be coronated, or adventure on the Sacred Sea. My heart yearned for so many things I couldn’t have, even I wasn’t sure which of them I most desired.
As the Meros pair set a direct course for the casks of ale, my pulse suddenly quickened, an odd sensation coating my skull.
Slithering tentacles writhed at the edge of my consciousness, circling like a snake assessing its prey. My thoughts turned hazy and my focus grew dull.
A slender man sauntered up to me unaccompanied, studying me with eyes like two onyx pits of eternal night. His features were similarly dark, his hair neatly cut and his goatee carefully groomed. Hands in his pockets, he smirked with all the smug triumph of someone who had won a game without even bothering to play.
“Your Majesty,” he purred. His rich voice provoked an image of bare flesh gliding beneath red silk sheets. I had the vague sense that the image was not of my own conjuring.
“Umbros only sent one representative?” Remis asked coolly.
The man gave a careless shrug. “My companion is around here somewhere. I believe she’s assisting Her Majesty’s special friend with a pesky little problem.” He shot me a smile that warned of our illicit secret.
“Special friend?” Remis repeated. He frowned between us with brows furrowed. “Your Majesty, do you know anything about this?”
Careful, the man’s voice whispered into my mind.
My throat went dry. “Luther mentioned she was an acquaintance. I gave them leave to talk elsewhere.”
I felt Aemonn’s gaze burn into my side. He knew Luther was doing my bidding—which also meant he knew I was lying.
“My Queen sends her regards,” the man said, strolling closer. “She simply can’t wait to see you at the Rite of Coronation.
She says you two have much to discuss.”
“Such as?” Remis asked.
“That’s between our two lovely Queens.” His teeth raked over his bottom lip. “A place I would very much like to be.”
Aemonn wedged his shoulder between the two of us. “You will keep an appropriate distance from Her Majesty,” he warned.
The man’s head cocked at an angle, and his smile turned lethal. “Will I?”
“It’s fine, Aemonn,” I rushed out. I put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him back. If he realized I’d restored the Umbros Descended’s magic, even his self-motivated desire to help me might come to an end.
The man gave a low chuckle. “What an enlightening evening this ball has turned out to be. I’ve already learned so much.”
He drew out the final two words like a breathy moan, the sound unabashedly sexual.
His chest lay bare beneath a dark crimson tailcoat. His fingers, nails filed to points and painted with an obsidian glaze, traced a long, sensual route down his torso to the lines of his hips where they dipped below his low-slung trousers. I fought to keep my eyes on his face, but his mental claws dug deeper, and I was helpless to stop my vision from following the trail of his touch.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.
“Symond,” he answered.
My hand rose to my own chest against my will and mimicked his movements in featherlight strokes along the curve of my breasts.
My temper began to rise. It pushed against the bounds of its harness, growling to be let loose.
Fight.
I blinked at the voice’s sudden reemergence. It had been oddly silent since that night in the dungeon, but I felt it stir once more, raising its mighty head in recognition of the new threat.
“We are so grateful for the friendship of your realm,” I hissed. “I only hope I have the opportunity to repay the favor someday.” My eyes narrowed. “Someday soon.”
Symond gave another rumble of sensual laughter. “I can think of a few ways we can celebrate our friendship right now.”
He sent another image into my mind—a scandalous vision of us on the ballroom stage, naked and centered in the spotlight’s glow. Me, bent over the throne of Lumnos. Him, pounding into me from behind with one hand wrapped around my throat as I breathily moaned his name. The crowd, pleasuring themselves as they watched us from afar.
Fight.
Unlike before, when I had fought the voice’s call tooth and nail, I now happily surrendered what little control I had left.
Help me, I asked it. Free me.
I flinched as icy fire burst through my defenses and cascaded into every bend and turn of my skin. My body flared in a sudden eruption of light, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.
When the voice subsided and the silvery glow dimmed, Symond’s presence in my mind was gone. He watched me with a wild stare, looking unsettled in a way I suspected he didn’t often experience.
As his dark eyes jumped warily around my face, I felt the claws of his power scrape feebly at my skull. He was trying to get back in, but it was as if there was a new wall he could no longer penetrate.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I breathed, panting a little as I scraped the memory of his vision from my thoughts.
His shoulders drew tight, and his languid sexual energy cooled away. “It appears so.”
“You forgot your Queen’s gift,” Aemonn called out as the man turned to leave.
Symond threw me a glance over his shoulder, his energy now decidedly more poisonous. “My Queen’s gift has already been delivered. And she says you’re welcome for the advice.”
“The advice?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember?”
Veins quivered at his temples as his talons again screeched against my skull. Whatever shield the voice had constructed held firm. He lowered his chin with a glare.
“When forgotten blood on heartstone falls, then shall the chains be broke,” he said in a bitter drawl. “Life for life, old debt requires, or eternal be his yoke.”
I was instantly transported—not by his thought magic, but by my own memory—to an afternoon many months ago, when a scarlet sun hung overhead and a mysterious woman with eyes of darkest black cornered me in an alley and held my mind in her control.
Listen close, Daughter of the Forgotten, she had warned me. Stop running from who you are. Stop hiding. And stop taking that cursed flameroot powder.
Gods—the Queen of Umbros. It had been her in the alley on the day my mother went missing.
If that hadn’t happened, would I have given up the flameroot and allowed my magic to manifest? Would I still be standing here as Queen? Did I have her to thank—or despise—for everything that had transpired since that terrible day?
Did she know that?
And more importantly—how? How had she known things about me, and about my mother’s secrets, that no living person should?
He knows about you, your father, she’d said. He’s waiting for you.
Symond chuckled darkly and turned away.
“Wait,” I shouted. “Tell me, how did she—”
“My Queen looks forward to your coronation,” he called out. “If you survive your Challenging.”
I tried to chase him, but Eleanor’s hands closed around my wrist and yanked me back.
“What just happened?” she hissed in my ear. “That guy was creepy. But also... kind of hot.”
I grabbed her arms. “Eleanor—did the King ever invite the Umbros Queen here? Perhaps around Forging Day?”
“Impossible. She’s never invited to any of the realms. Everyone’s terrified of her. They say she can know the entire contents of your mind with the snap of her fingers.”
A shudder rocked down my spine.
A couple with rose-colored eyes stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” one of them said as they dipped their heads in unison.
“We bring greetings from the Crown of Sophos.”
“Yes, uh, thank you.” My attention kept flitting to where Symond had fled.
“We bring two gifts,” the other said, “as a token of the valued relationship between our two realms.”
“How generous,” I mumbled.
They offered up a blush satin pillow bearing a golden orb, polished smooth except for a maze of etchings.
The curious object finally captured my focus. I reached for it, then hesitated. “What is this?”
“The Orb of Answering. It will respond with a yes or no to three questions of your choice, so long as the answer is known to any living being with the Kindred’s blood.”
I took it into my hands and nearly dropped it in surprise. The metal was throbbing and warm to the touch, as if it were a living, hot-blooded thing. It buzzed with an energy that seemed to connect with the magic inside me, a current that flowed freely between my skin and its golden surface.
I quickly set it back on the cushion and frowned. “How is such magic possible?”
The pair exchanged a shrewd smile. “Only the Kindred can provide that answer.”
That hardly put me at ease. I longed for the innocence of yesterday, when I had believed meeting these people might be fun.
“Well, um, thanks,” I blurted out. “Have a nice evening.”
“Don’t you want our second gift?”
An eerie disquiet tugged at my intuition. There was something about these two that felt almost sinister, despite their polite demeanor.
A broad smile spread across the woman’s face but did not quite reach her eyes. “We understand you have a mortal brother studying at a Descended school.”
The hair on my neck prickled. “How do you know that?”
“We’re the keepers of Emarion’s knowledge. It’s our job to know such things.”
“It’s not your job to know about my family,” I snapped.
At my side, Remis cleared his throat, then shot me a pointed look. He dropped his voice low. “I believe what Her Majesty means to say is that this is not widely known. We ask for your discretion on such matters.”
“Of course.” The woman matched Remis’s hushed tenor. “Our realm knows well the importance of safeguarding sensitive
information. And the consequences, should such knowledge be released.”
She cocked her head at me, still sporting that hollow smile. “We would be honored to welcome your brother. He is invited as a personal guest of our Crown at the institution of his choice for as long as he wishes to study.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Lily gushed from Remis’s other side. She clasped her hands to her chest and beamed at me. “It’s what he’s always wanted!”
Remis frowned at Lily’s enthusiasm, but he nodded in agreement. “A generous offer. I’m sure he will be pleased to—”
“No,” I growled. “Absolutely not.”
My entire entourage gawked at me. Remis was furious, Lily looked crestfallen, Eleanor and Aemonn looked baffled.
“Your Majesty,” Remis started, “such an opportunity is exceedingly rare. It would be a great honor for the boy.”
“I said no.” I glared at the pink-eyed woman and tried to silently convey that I knew all too well the evils she and her kind were committing. How the mortals they invited never returned home—how they, or their families, all seemed to meet a suspicious end.
An end that put them on the involuntary side of Sophos’s highly guarded research labs.
She gave a delicate shrug. “The offer remains open, if you—or he—have a change of heart.”
There would be no change of heart. Teller would not set foot in Sophos—not as long as I lived.
“Farewell then,” I said acidly. “May the Sacred Sea carry you home swiftly tonight.”
“Actually, we’ll be staying a few more days.” The woman’s gaze rolled to Remis, then back to me. “We have some business to conduct.”
I shook my head. “Your business here is done.”
“Your Majesty,” Remis interrupted.
“Is there a problem?” a deep baritone voice called out.
A man with a thick mustache emerged from the onlookers. His scowl of displeasure unlocked a memory that sent a flicker of panic dashing through me. “The visitors from Sophos are personal guests of House Benette. They are welcome in my home for as long as they wish.”
“Evrim,” Remis said warmly, conjuring one of his usual diplomatic smiles. “No problem at all. A minor miscommunication.”
Before I could respond, Remis’s hand squeezed my arm, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from flinching. He leaned in and growled a warning. “Do not make an enemy of him.”
“I don’t trust Sophos,” I hissed back.
“Well Evrim Benette does, and House Benette provides weapons to all of Lumnos. If you interfere with their business, every last House will rise to Challenge you.”
I ground my teeth and tucked my hands into my skirt to conceal my fists. I was more than happy to piss off Sophos, I might even be willing to provoke House Benette. But I could not afford to make an enemy of the whole of Lumnos—not yet.
I gave the Sophos Descended a smile as empty as their own. “My mistake,” I said sweetly. “Have a lovely stay.”
With shallow bows and an ominous stare, the Sophos Descended eased back into the crowd.
“Diem!” A little girl with a mop of blonde ringlets yanked out of her panicked mother’s arms and bolted toward me, her arms extended.
I smiled and dropped to my knees. “Evanie,” I cooed, scooping her up and hugging her to my chest. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“You had candy. I never forget candy.” She beamed at me. “Got any more?”
“You know my daughter?” Evrim asked.
“And your son,” I said. A young boy peered out from behind his father’s shadow, pale-faced and terrified, likely remembering his rudeness at our last interaction. I offered him a smile. “Hello again, Lorris.”
Evrim’s stare sharpened. “How is it you know my children, but not me?”
“You met her, Father,” Lorris said. Evrim’s cruel glare snapped to his son, who cowered away as if struck.
“I used to work as a healer,” I explained. “I treated your daughter when she was ill.”
He awkwardly shuffled his feet, then straightened his coat. “Of course. Forgive my brief lapse in memory. House Benette is honored to have welcomed you into our home.”
I almost snorted. My visit had been anything but honored. They had treated me as unworthy of their notice, and I’d repaid the favor by sneaking into Evrim’s office and stealing the plans to the armory and his list of top customers.
And with it, I signed the death warrants of all the Descended guards who didn’t survive the Guardians’ bloody attack.
I fought a fresh wave of guilt and reminded myself of the role I was supposed to play.
“And what a beautiful home it was,” I gushed. “Your children are so well-behaved. You must be very proud.”
My fakery worked, and Evrim puffed up like a fluttering peacock.
“Do you have any children of your own, Your Majesty?” his wife asked.
Aemonn jumped forward, taking my hand in his. “Not quite yet,” he said warmly, “but my Diem has such nurturing instincts.
No doubt she’ll be a doting mother very soon.”
Loud chatter erupted in the ballroom. With that single statement, Aemonn had kindled a firestorm of speculation. By the end of the night, the whole of the realm would believe Aemonn had already put a baby in my belly and cemented his place as my future consort.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and as his eyes connected with mine, I saw something new in them—a challenge, and
perhaps a warning.
To keep my mouth shut. To play my role.
My temper bucked like a stallion. I squeezed Aemonn’s fingers until his knuckles popped. He only smiled wider and tucked himself into my side.
He dropped another casual kiss along my neck, leaning in until his lips brushed my ear. “Play nice,” he murmured.
“I look forward to our House Reception tomorrow,” Evrim cut in. “We have much to discuss.”
“Oh?” I feigned lightness as I struggled to yank my hand from Aemonn’s grasp.
“I hope Your Majesty has a strong plan for retaliation against the rebel scum responsible for the recent attack on my armory.”
If only he knew the rebel scum most responsible was staring right at him.
“Given her youth, Her Majesty has delegated such important matters to me,” Remis said. “I’ll be happy to discuss it with you tomorrow.”
Evrim frowned at that. He gave Remis a once-over that stunk of disapproval. “I see. Very well—until then.”
I nodded and threw a wink at Evanie, who giggled, then at Lorris, who went wide-eyed and fled.
Even before they were introduced, I knew the next House was House Hanoverre. With their upturned noses and sneering upper lips, they made no attempt to disguise that they had judged me—and found me lacking.
Iléana, of course, was front and center, hovering at the hip of her grandmother Marthe, the elderly matriarch of their House.
Their too-loud grumbles contained scathing commentary on everything from my dress to my demeanor to my upbringing.
The real surprise was the warmth with which they were greeted by Aemonn and Garath, the latter rushing forward to plant a series of theatrical kisses all over Marthe’s cheeks and her ring-bedecked hands. Aemonn lit up as he shook hands with Iléana’s older brother Jean, who gave my breasts a lewd stare before dismissing me entirely. Even Remis jumped into the fray, breaking from my side to chat loudly with Iléana’s parents.
I leaned toward Eleanor, the last remaining member of my entourage. “Should I wander off to the bar and see how long it takes them to notice?”
She covered her laugh with a cough. “Don’t take it personally. House Hanoverre is even more obsessed with breeding than House Corbois. Their sigil is a single drop of blood on a white rose. They claim they’ve had no mortal blood enter their line since Lumnos’s mortal lover, so that single drop is the only impurity they’ll ever have.”
My eyes dropped to the filmy white fabric of my skirts and the scarlet dot along the hem where Henri’s blood had fallen earlier in the night.
“Perhaps you should flirt with Iléana’s brother,” Eleanor joked. “Make them think a Hanoverre could be King Consort and test their commitment to their principles.” She gave a soft snort. “Rumor is that he’s a frequent customer of the mortal brothels.”
“So mortals are fine to take pleasure from, but not good enough to marry or bear their children?” I asked.
“If House Hanoverre had their way, there would be no mortals in the realm at all. Poor Jean might actually have to persuade a woman to bed him instead of paying them to do it.”
My manufactured calm was wearing dangerously thin. “House Hanoverre,” I called out loudly. “I’m so happy you could
make it to my ball.”
A group of scowls turned my direction.
Marthe took a few steps toward me. The elder woman’s movements were shaky as she leaned on Iléana’s arm for support, but her look of malice was as steady as stone.
“How could we miss your ball, after such a spectacle at your funeral yesterday?” she asked.
A sharp gasp skittered around the room.
“My apologies—the King’s funeral,” she croaked with a wry smile. “With all that occurred, I almost forgot that event was meant to be about someone other than you.”
Remis and Aemonn shot me looks of warning, while Garath’s smirk said plainly, Go ahead, dig your grave.
Any other day I might have bent to the old crone’s provocation. But Iléana’s haughty chuckling lit a very different kind of fire.
I let loose a forlorn sigh and hung my head low, making myself the picture of penitence. “I must apologize for my missteps.
I have certainly learned the importance of surrounding myself with the right advisors and trusting in their wisdom.”
Aemonn straightened and smirked, but I turned my smile instead on Eleanor, reaching out to clasp her hand. I swallowed my pride and gave a respectful nod to Remis, as well. His responding smile was tight, but he made a show of accepting my
acknowledgement.
I looked back to Marthe and threw her a bright, charming smile. “I do hope you can forgive me. I promise you, in the future, I shall be far more prepared for any challenges that come my way.”
Marthe lips pursed into a thin line. “It’s quite unusual to have a candidate for the Crown who is unknown to the Twenty Houses. So much about you is a mystery to us all. Your parentage. Your magic.”
Iléana patted Marthe’s arm and made a soothing noise. “We’ll see her magic soon enough, grandmother.” Her spear-sharp eyes turned to me. “When she fights at the Challenging.”
I fluttered my lashes and looked up to the heavens. “I cannot say why Lumnos chose to bless me with the Crown and with the strongest, most powerful magic in the realm. I’m sure she had her reasons—and I would not dare to question the wisdom of the Kindred.”
Marthe huffed. “Let us be grateful the Blessed Kindred had the wisdom to give the rest of us free will to make our own choices.”
I gave her a restrained smile and beckoned to the next House in the receiving line, ready to bring this painful interaction to an end.
“I expect you to honor the late King’s agreement of betrothal between Luther and my Iléana,” Marthe declared. “They’ve been promised to each other nearly since birth.”
I held Marthe’s stare, though I could see Iléana’s shit-eating grin from the corner of my eye. I frowned and cocked my head curiously. “How interesting. I have had so many conversations with Luther, and not once has he mentioned a betrothal.” Finally, my focus shifted to Iléana. “In fact, he said you were nothing to him at all.”
The look on Iléana’s face...
Every struggle, every loss, every moment of fear and panic, every agonizing humiliation, every last heartbroken tear I had shed because of a gods-damned Crown I never even wanted...
Iléana’s outraged expression made every second of it worthwhile.
I might die a bloody death in the Challenging, but with this perfect memory tucked in my pocket, at least I’d die happy.
I let a hint of the grin I was holding back shine through as I shrugged. “As you pointed out, the Kindred did bless us with free will. I expect Luther will exercise his. He can choose for himself the woman he desires.”
I bathed in a moment of glory as Iléana went downright apoplectic, but my joy was cut short. Instead of looking perturbed, Marthe’s sneer curled higher, turning wide and triumphant.
“How interesting you should mention your close relationship with the Prince,” she said smoothly. “I’ve heard a quite upsetting rumor that you posed as a mortal healer in order to gain access to the late King throughout his mysterious illness. I heard you even enticed the Prince into bringing you to the King’s bedside the very same day His Majesty died.”
Noises of shock rose as whispers carried Marthe’s veiled accusation to the far corners of the crowd.
I schooled my features to apathy. “The King was seen by the Descended healers in Fortos. Once his condition declined beyond treatment, a team of mortal healers cared for him here in his final days.”
“So you admit you treated him?”
I swallowed. “I assisted the healers on a few occasions.”
“Including on the day of his death.”
“I... yes. Luther asked me to evaluate his condition. The King was very unwell, and we both believed he would pass soon.”
“In fact, you were left unattended with the King in his bedchamber, were you not? Armed with a weapon?”
“If you’re suggesting—”
“And a guard walked in to find you standing over the King’s body with your weapon drawn, isn’t that true?”
The hum of gossip became a roar. Iléana gave a loud, showy gasp and threw an arm in front of her grandmother, as if to suggest I might attack at any moment, while Jean shook his head and gave a low whistle. Even Remis and Aemonn eyed me uneasily.
“It was a misunderstanding.” I was practically yelling to be heard over the chatter. “Luther examined the King’s body personally. He can confirm I didn’t—”
“Where is the Prince?” Marthe asked sharply. “I, for one, would dearly like to know why the man we all believed to be Ulther’s heir saw fit to leave our ill, defenseless King in the company of a violent stranger.” Her eyebrows rose. “A stranger I hear he is now welcoming into his bedroom.”
The room erupted. My Corbois entourage exchanged expressions of shock, confusion, and suspicion. Perthe looked around nervously and edged closer to my side, his knuckles white on the hilt of his blade.
It looked as if my Challenging might come several weeks early.
Across the bond, I felt Sorae pace along her perch, stretching her wings in preparation to crash through the stone walls of the ballroom to come to my side. For a brief moment, I considered letting her.
My gaze darted around the room, instinctively searching for Luther. He would know how to fix this—he always had some clever trick to end unwanted inquiry or some curt excuse to steal me away that no one ever dared to oppose.
But he was gone, cleaning up my other messes. This was a battle I would have to fight alone.
I painted on a haughty look of confidence and raised my palm high into the air.
“You dare accuse House Corbois?”
I spoke so softly the room had no choice but to fall silent as they all strained to hear my words.
Finger by finger, I curled my hand into a closed fist. “You dare accuse House Corbois?” I repeated.
“It is not House Corbois that I am acc—”
“It was House Corbois that sent the King to Fortos to be examined there. House Corbois who chose the mortal healers who treated him for months. Corbois guards who stood at the King’s side, Corbois servants who prepared his food and drink, Corbois attendants who cleaned his body after his death.” I gestured to Remis and Garath. “It was these men, the leaders of House Corbois, who had complete control over the King’s care during his illness.”
The spectators finally turned their eyes from me to the two brothers, who shifted their weight nervously and took a step back from the Hanoverre contingent.
Marthe scoffed. “Even the finest Houses can be tricked by—”
“I wouldn’t want a simple misunderstanding to cause any bloodshed,” I said, calmly but forcefully, “so I’ll ask you again.
Does House Hanoverre accuse House Corbois of murdering its own beloved Ulther?”
“That’s not what I—”
“If so, you must believe the Fortos healers to be complicit in this extravagant scheme. Perhaps the Fortos representatives have not yet departed—I’m sure their King would be very interested to hear your accusations against him.”
“I would never—”
“I’m sure you must have simply misspoken. Because if it were discovered that you had invented such a vicious lie, without even a shred of evidence to support it, in order to stir up unrest against your Queen... well, that would be treason.”
Marthe’s mouth snapped closed.
“Let me ask one final time: Does House Hanoverre accuse House Corbois, and the King of Fortos as its accomplice, of murdering King Ulther?”
Marthe’s lips flattened into a thin, pale line.
“No. We do not.”
The wrinkles spanning her face seemed to fill with shadows as her gaze narrowed in a dark promise. Any triumph I might have felt at surviving her and Iléana’s attacks quickly withered and died.
I might have survived this battle, but House Hanoverre was preparing for war.
