Chapter
Thirty-One
our days passed.F Teller and I holed up in my rooms, cycling between numbness and a grief so acute it felt lethal. Telling him our father had died was awful. Telling him how, and why, was infinitely worse.
Mortal lover.
Half-breed.
Rebel scum.
This was because of me and the Crown on my head. Because I had not lied, or kept silent, or played the game well enough to avoid making enemies.
Someone else murdered our father—but I had killed him.
Teller’s heart was forgiving by nature, and if he did blame me, I doubted he’d ever admit it. He held me as I cried myself to sleep, and he allowed me to do the same for him.
But I knew.
I still hadn’t told him what I’d learned about our mother, and every night, I laid awake agonizing over that decision. The prospect of seeing her again was a hope he badly needed, but if something happened before she could return... I could not bear to make Teller grieve her loss a second time. Especially not now.
Though time had stopped ticking for the two of us, the rest of the world moved cruelly on. The missed schoolwork Lily brought home for Teller began to pile up, and although the House Receptions had paused while I mourned, if I delayed them any longer, I would be forced to extend the Period of Challenging another thirty days.
I would have welcomed that, but one evening, Teller broke down in tears and confessed that he was suffocating with anxiety over the Challenging, and he could not truly breathe again until it was over. There was no sacrifice I would not make to spare my brother further pain.
So today we would both claw our way out of our dark pits and face this broken new world.
“Are you sure?” I asked as Teller rifled through a pile of clothing Eleanor had gathered for him. “I’ll talk to the school if you need more time.”
“I can’t miss any more class. Losing my notes put me too far behind as it is.”
Fresh guilt tore through me. His school notes, filed into the drawers of his desk at home, had been reduced to cinders. Yet another thing I’d taken from him.
“I can walk with you to school, if you want,” I offered. “Just like old times.”
“I’m walking with Lily,” he said brusquely before disappearing into his new bedroom to change.
With our home destroyed and nowhere else to go, Teller had been forced to move into the palace. There were several smaller bedrooms in my royal suite—a relic of the harems of past Crowns—and I had insisted he take one so he could remain under the watch of Sorae and my now significantly increased contingent of guards.
I suspected he’d rather stay in the family wing with the others his age, but until our father’s murderer was caught, I could hardly stand to let him out of my sight.
“I can make the Corbois cousins give you their notes,” I called out, “or I can have the school delay your exams, or arrange for tutoring, or—”
“Diem.” Teller reemerged from his room with a stern expression. “Enough.”
Something had changed in him these past few days. He looked so much older now, the boyish lightness gone from his features, as if our father’s death had shoved him firmly into manhood.
And that voice... the Commander’s voice.
The strong set of his jaw, the deep command in his tone—suddenly it was not my brother standing in front of me, but my father.
My shoulders shook as a sob broke free and rattled the pile of shards where my heart once sat.
Teller tugged me into his arms. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, his own voice beginning to crack.
I nodded and pulled back to see fresh tears brimming in his eyes, still swollen from days of weeping. “You reminded me so
much of him just now.”
“Because I raised my voice?”
“Because you were begging me to stop annoying you,” I said, and we shared a quiet laugh between our sniffles.
“Comparing me to him is the best compliment you could ever give me,” he said gently. “Even if it is for losing my patience.”
A knock on the door brought the arrival of Lily, with Luther, Taran, Eleanor, and Alixe in tow. I hadn’t talked to any of them since my father’s death, other than a few murmured words of thanks as they took turns bringing up food and other supplies.
I couldn’t even look at them. Every pair of blue eyes reminded me of those blood-inked words.
Mortal lover.
Half-breed.
Rebel scum.
I knew none of them would have ever hurt my father. But until I uncovered who had, I was having a hard time not seeing
every Descended as a threat.
As an enemy.
I rushed to the pile of gifts presented at the ball from the foreign Descended and pulled out the blade from Fortos, the weapon-proof scarf from Ignios, and the cure-all potion from Arboros.
“Here.” I draped the scarf around Teller’s neck and chest and shoved the other objects into his hands. “Take these. Keep
them with you at all times.”
“You’re fussing again.”
“They’ll keep you safe. We don’t know who—”
“D, it wasn’t a kid at school who killed him.”
“We don’t know who it was,” I snapped. “And until we do, we trust no one.”
We stared each other down. Teller must have seen the terror underlying my stubbornness, because he sighed and gave in.
“No weapons allowed at school,” he said, handing the blade back. “I’ll take the rest.”
“Good. I’ll walk you out.” He started to protest, and I raised a hand to cut him off. “It’s on my way. I’m meeting with House Hanoverre.”
He wrinkled his nose at the mention of the Hanoverres, a sentiment I deeply shared.
I attached the Fortos dagger to my own waist, adding it to the arsenal of weapons I’d already strapped across my body.
There would be no fancy dresses for this House Reception—today I’d chosen some clothing gifted by Alixe, a regal twist on the armored uniform of the Royal Guard.
It was a message—this was war, and I was prepared to fight.
I took Teller’s arm and wordlessly pushed past the pack of Corbois, eager to avoid being left alone with their sad eyes and pitying words. Someday, I might be healed enough to appreciate their sympathy.
But not today.
Today, my grief was a sharp, pointed thing. A weapon—a mace, covered in poisoned spikes, ready to demolish anyone it swung at.
So I was doing my best to aim it in the right direction.
When we arrived at the sprawling front doors, I turned to Teller and rearranged the spydersilk scarf until it covered all his major organs.
“Be safe,” I ordered. “Don’t take any risks.”
“Don’t kill any Hanoverres,” he muttered. “Not yet, at least.”
We shared a dark look, then he followed Lily down to the palace gates. Despite the absurdly large collection of guards that accompanied them, my hands trembled as my brother walked away from the safety of my side. I stood watch until they were no longer visible, and even for a little while after that.
“Follow them,” I whispered. Across the bond, Sorae pulsed back an acknowledgement, then sprang skyward in a direct line down the path to the Descended school.
When I spun to reenter the palace, the four Corbois cousins had arranged themselves in a line at my back, and I nearly ran straight into Taran’s chest. He shifted to the side to open up a path.
“I’m so sorry about your father, Diem. We all are.”
His use of my name instead of his silly nickname, the tender hesitation to his voice—I nearly broke all over again.
“If there’s anything we can do—”
“Thank you,” I clipped, shoving past him.
Today, I needed strength. Even if that strength could only be found in anger.
None of them said another word as they followed dutifully behind me and we filed into the meeting room. I headed for my throne but stumbled to a pause when my eyes fell on the chair where my father had last sat.
He was gone.
My father, my beloved father, was gone.
We were just here, talking together in this very room. He was laughing with Taran and holding Eleanor’s hand, teasing me about my childhood mishaps.
And now he was so utterly gone that I didn’t even have a body to bury. Just a memory—a name on my lips, and nothing more.
Alixe slid into my father’s chair. The rage that roared through me must have shown on my face, because she took one look
at me and went deadly still.
“What are you doing there?” I demanded.
“I asked her to come,” Luther jumped in. “Given the demands made by House Benette, I thought her insight on the army might prove useful.”
I whipped to face him. “More useful than my father was, you mean?”
His face went ashen. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to suggest—”
My eyes narrowed. “I seem to recall you pushing me to choose Alixe instead of my father. How quickly you got your wish.”
He shook his head with a tortured expression. “I would never wish this on anyone, least of all you,” he said, his voice heartbreakingly soft. “He was a good man and a wise advisor.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Alixe said, rising from the chair. “I’ll leave.”
“Wait,” I hissed. “Just... wait.” I stared at the empty chair and ordered myself to breathe as I yanked on the reins of my temper. I felt wholly out of control, a helpless passenger to my own rage.
“I’m sorry,” Luther murmured. “I only meant to help.”
I’m only trying to help.
The last words my father had spoken to me.
My eyes slammed closed as grief battered its fists at my chest. Strange, how armor could be both a shield and a cage, keeping the arrows out while trapping the monster in.
Hateful, intrusive thoughts poked and prodded at the edge of my mind.
You can’t control yourself.
Your temper ruins everything.
Your father was right—you’re a selfish, useless Queen.
Choosing not to postpone these House Receptions had been a very bad idea.
“You might as well stay,” I gritted out. I turned my back to them all and sank into my throne. “He’s dead, and he’s not coming back.”
The Corbois cousins stiffened as House Hanoverre arrived in noisy fashion with the rest of the Council. Aemonn had Iléana on his arm, the two of them walking alongside Jean and laughing, while Marthe Hanoverre shuffled forward with one arm each on Remis and Garath.
Their merriment faded as they entered and saw me already seated. I didn’t bother to stand or even turn my head. Between my volatile emotions and their place high on my list of suspects for my father’s killer—second only to House Benette—silence was the best I was willing to offer.
I locked my focus on the chair directly ahead as Marthe Hanoverre took her seat, and her own formidable stare slid into the path of mine.
As our eyes connected, I sent every spark of suspicion, every burning flame of hatred, hurtling her direction.
Though she did not cower, there was an apprehension to her weathered face. “I heard the news. My condolences for your loss.”
Vicious, murderous words climbed up my throat.
“I understand it occurred the day after the ball,” she continued. “House Hanoverre had a large gathering at my home that day in preparation for this meeting.”
At least she was smart enough to know she was a prime suspect.
“There are many servants who can attest that we remained at our estate until late in the evening, with no visitors coming or
going.”
“How convenient,” I said flatly.
Perhaps sensing my crumbling self-control, Remis quickly changed the subject and launched into a monologue about my “plans” for Lumnos, most of which I’d never heard before, and my desire to maintain Ulther’s status quo.
For nearly an hour, Remis and Marthe discussed various trade agreements, appointments, and other meaningless boons of wealth and power. Occasionally, members of my council or Marthe’s would speak up, including more than a few snippy comments from Iléana while she brazenly devoured Luther with a possessive gaze.
I listened closely, memorizing every morsel of information revealed. I took turns staring down each Hanoverre until they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. All the while, I kept my silence, offering nothing in return.
On the surface, the meeting was going quite well. Their requests were mostly reasonable, and they pleasantly considered our arguments on the points where Remis held firm.
But I was not so naive—not anymore.
I was a snake, coiled and ready to strike, and I recognized another one when I saw her.
“We will appoint a Hanoverre to the councils you requested, provided you’re willing to accept our terms on the silk shipments,” Remis offered.
Marthe considered, then gave a curt nod. “That is acceptable to House Hanoverre.”
“Splendid,” he purred, rising to his feet. “What a productive meeting this has been. Shall I pour some wine so we can toast to an amicable future for our two Houses?”
“A lovely idea,” she agreed. “But there’s one final point we wish to discuss.”
Marthe’s eyes cut to me. I could almost hear her tail rattling.
“I spoke with Evrim Benette. He informed me of the deal that was discussed with respect to the mortals. I’m afraid those terms are simply not sufficient.”
“I’m sure we can come to some agreement,” Remis said hesitantly. “What is your request?”
“It’s quite simple, really. We want all mortals exiled by the end of the year. It’s time we cleansed them from our realm once and for all.” She tapped her knobby, wrinkled fingers along the armrest. “And it is not a request. It is a demand. We will require a bonded bargain to ensure the Crown’s commitment.”
“That is a substantial demand, Marthe.” Remis shot me a wary glance. “Her Majesty takes matters related to the mortals very seriously, given her upbringing.”
“As does House Hanoverre,” Marthe said frostily. “Given her upbringing.”
All eyes in the room turned to me, waiting to see if I would take her bait and fight back.
Instead, I held my silent vigil.
“By the time Her Majesty is coronated, year end will only be one month away,” Remis said. “Perhaps we could simply close our borders to new arrivals, and outlaw any further procreation. Let them die out naturally.
“We’ve already had one attack on our soil, Remis. We must eliminate the threat before things get worse.”
A biting nausea grew at the casual indifference with which they debated the genocide and exile of living, breathing people —my people, in my heart if not wholly in my blood.
Marthe gestured to me. “If Her Majesty truly cares for the mortals, she can announce her decision now and give them more time to prepare.”
Remis huffed. “Surely there is some alternative—”
“There is none. House Hanoverre will accept nothing less.”
Again, a host of curious eyes turned my way.
Again, I held my silence.
Remis cleared his throat. “Her Majesty will discuss your offer with her advisors and provide an answer before the Challenging.”
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable. We require an answer today.”
“Marthe, there are still many House Receptions to come. Her Majesty must consider all requests before—”
“That is precisely why I demand an answer today. House Hanoverre is a powerful family with a long history and impeccable breeding. We will not be made to wait on lesser Houses.”
Remis let out a weary sigh, firmly backed into a corner. He could not agree to a bonded bargain on my behalf. If House Hanoverre would not yield, he had no choice but to await—and accept—my response.
He turned to me. “Your Majesty?”
I said nothing. Did nothing.
After a long beat, Marthe went on. “In the unfortunate event that Her Majesty declines our terms, Jean is prepared to represent House Hanoverre at the Challenging.” She swiveled in her seat and placed a bony hand on her grandson’s knee.
“Such horrible business, these fights to the death, but my darling boy will do what he must for our House.”
Jean flashed an adoring look at Marthe that turned venomous as it shifted to me.
“Well?” Marthe asked me. “Do you have an answer?”
I cocked my head lazily to one side and gave Jean a bored once-over. I allowed the corner of my lip to quirk up for a brief moment before settling back into my stony stare.
Still I held my silence.
Iléana huffed loudly. “A well-placed source tells me you can’t even control your magic. We all saw your failed attempt at the funeral.”
“And again at the Ascension Ball,” Jean added.
“I have seen the extent of her power myself,” Alixe spoke up from behind me. “And there is no equal. Certainly not in Lumnos, and I suspect not in all of Emarion.” She paused. “You have known me for a long time, Iléana. You know I would not
lie about such things.”
Iléana scowled, though the beginnings of doubt crept onto her features.
Marthe waved her hand with an airy shrug. “It is not the extent of one’s power that determines a victor, but one’s ability to control it. Jean’s training in combat is second to none. He will easily eviscerate a novice, even a strong one.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Are you truly so eager to rush to your death, girl? Don’t you value your own life?”
A cold, joyless smile eased onto my lips. I rose to my feet and sauntered to a nearby table where a spread of refreshments had been laid out. I poured myself a goblet of wine, then made a show of staring into the deep red liquid before indulging in a leisurely sip.
I began to move in a broad circle around the room, my pace deliberately slow.
“My father was a Commander in the army,” I finally began. “The highest ranking mortal in its history, in fact. And he taught me everything he knew: How to fight. How to strategize. How to defeat an opponent—” I paused, gesturing with my goblet toward Jean. “—even if their training is second to none.”
I spun on my heel and strolled the opposite direction, keeping my tone light and my expression indifferent.
“But the most important lesson my father taught me was courage. He stepped out into battle again and again, even knowing each one might mean his death, because he believed in what he was fighting for. His convictions, his principles of right and wrong, were worth more to him than his own life.”
I halted my pacing in front of Marthe’s chair and stared down at her with a frosty glare.
“He and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything. But on this topic, I assure you, I am very much my father’s daughter.”
I stepped backward and sat on the edge of my throne, holding Marthe’s gaze as I took another measured sip of wine.
“Whoever killed my father thought they could threaten me, or perhaps intimidate me, but you see, they made a grave miscalculation. Because now, when my life ends—whether at the Challenging, or by the act of some cowardly assassin, or even, gods willing, at the end of a long and happy life—I know my beloved father will be waiting for me on the other side.”
My eyes narrowed. “So no, Marthe. I do not fear death. I do not fear a Challenge. And I definitely do not fear the petty threats of House Hanoverre.”
The Hanoverres fidgeted in their seats, some looking furious, others looking unnerved. I drained the rest of my wine, then held the goblet out to my side and let it fall to the floor. Marthe flinched at the loud, startling clang of metal against stone.
“Here is my counter-offer to you,” I said, my tone defiant. “If you want a bonded bargain, I’ll give you one. I will swear to rule fairly and compassionately for all my subjects. I will promise to never sell my justice to the highest bidder. I will ensure that not a soul in my realm goes without a roof over their heads, a meal on their table, or the medicine to cure their ills.
“I will protect the vulnerable and strike down the evil. I will do whatever it takes to protect this realm from its enemies abroad—” My eyes swept across the Hanoverre contingent. “—and from its enemies within. And I will vow on my magic and on everything I hold dear that I will never, ever value my own life above the lives of my people. Mortal or Descended.”
I relaxed back into my chair, leaning casually against a single armrest and resting my chin atop my fist.
“Those are my terms, Marthe. That is the only kind of Queen I will ever be. And if that answer isn’t good enough for House Hanoverre...” My gaze flicked to Jean. “Then I’ll see you in the arena.”
The room sat in stunned silence.
“Take all the time you need to consider my offer,” I said blithely. “I look forward to your response.”
Marthe opened her mouth to speak, but I waved my hand in the same dismissive gesture she had earlier directed at me.
“You may go now.”
Marthe was trembling in her fury, Iléana doing much the same. Jean was sizing me up with new sincerity, evaluating me as a threat for the first time in earnest. I began to wonder if House Hanoverre might have genuinely believed I would cower to their threats until this very moment.
Marthe struggled to rise from her chair, and Jean darted to her side, extending an arm. Iléana stood and shot a pointed glare
over my shoulder.
“Really, Lu?” she sniped. “Her?”
Remis and Garath moved to follow Marthe, and I cleared my throat. “Crown Council, you will remain seated. The guards can escort the Hanoverres out.”
Remis and Garath gawked at me, then each other. Garath gave a dramatic grunt and dropped back into his chair, and Remis’s jaw tightened as he murmured farewells to a few Hanoverres.
When I was alone with the Corbois contingent, I stood and turned to face them, though my eyes lingered on the doorway.
“Clearly, our strategy hasn’t worked.”
Garath seethed. “It hasn’t worked because you can’t ever keep your fucking mouth—”
“Watch your tone, Father,” Taran growled. “She’s our Queen.”
Mine were not the only eyes that shot to Taran in surprise. Even Luther seemed startled by the confrontation.
“It hasn’t worked,” I started again, “because we were ignorant to believe we could avoid discussing the mortals. After the rebel attack, we should have known the Houses would demand retribution against all mortals. And that is one issue on which I
will never bend.”
I nearly let loose a bitter laugh at the irony. The attack on the armory happened because of me, and now it had become the very thing that could seal my fate.
“I am not selling this realm off to the rich and powerful to save my own life. Go and make the deals you need to make with the other Houses. If those deals are in the best interest of the realm—the entire realm—then I will honor them. But the only bonded bargain I will consent to make is the same one I just offered to House Hanoverre.”
Garath chuckled darkly. “Then I hope you’re prepared to fight. After that little display, it would take a miracle from the Kindred to keep you from being Challenged.”
I flashed him a malicious smile. “Garath, if I were you, I’d start putting that sharp tongue to work on persuading the other Houses. If I die, the next Crown might be another mortal-loving half-breed who likes you even less than I do.”
Taran snorted, and even Aemonn cracked a smile, though one angry look from his father had his amusement fading fast.
“Brother, a word?” Garath hissed, looking at Remis before storming out. Remis sighed and looked as if he wanted to say something to me, but his lips stayed closed. He gave a shallow bow and left.
Aemonn took my hand, pressing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Diem. What happened to your father is terrible.”
His brows rose. “Perhaps we could go walk in the gardens? I’m sure some sun and fresh air would brighten your spirit.”
“Brighten my spirit?” I laughed, the sound of it coming out vicious. Aemonn had always walked a thin line between kindness and exploitation. Today, that tightrope was fit to snap.
“Or a fine dinner, if you prefer,” he added. “I can arrange a private dining room for the two of us.”
“I’d rather be alone,” I said sourly.
He bristled, his expression cooling. “Yes. Of course.” He lingered a moment, but when none of us moved or spoke further, he cleared his throat, bowed, and excused himself to leave.
I turned to the others, finally forced to look them in the eye. I had expected to find pity there, at best, or perhaps judgment, like my father. Possibly even distrust, if they had previously believed me committed to their kind.
To my surprise, I saw something else.
Something deeper.
“Out of respect for what you four have done for me, let me speak plainly,” I began. “My loyalty is not to House Corbois, nor to the Twenty Houses, or the Descended, or even to the goddess Lumnos herself. My loyalty is to the people who need my protection, not those who feel entitled to it. I will bring justice to this realm, even if it costs me my life.”
I retreated a step, my heart already building its walls. “I would never ask you to choose between me and your family. If you cannot stand with me on this, I underst—”
“We’re with you,” Taran interrupted.
Eleanor nodded. “There’s no Crown I’d rather serve.”
One by one, the four of them placed a fist to their chests and bowed their heads. The tiniest sliver of my misery fell away.
“I’m going to make enemies,” I warned, swallowing thickly. “House Hanoverre is only the beginning.”
“We’ll continue training to prepare for a Challenge,” Alixe said. “Once you learn to control it, you’ll be unbeatable.”
My focus cut to Luther. He gazed at me with one of his heavy, burning looks, his eyes glowing with enough devotion to steal the breath from my lungs.
He dipped his chin. “You already know how I feel.”
I quickly looked away.
I tried to find the right words to express how much their support meant to me, but when I reached down to pull them to my lips, too many other words tried to fight their way to the top. Desperate, heartbroken words, angry words, words that would crack me wide open and leave me in pieces on the floor.
I couldn’t have been more grateful for Eleanor’s keen talent at reading a room as she nudged Taran and Alixe toward the door. “I know you’re not ready to talk yet. Whenever you are, just say the word, and we’ll be there.”
As they said their goodbyes, I found myself in the one situation I had been dreading even more than facing House Hanoverre—being alone with Luther.
I had spent so much of the last four days thinking about the man who stood before me. In those dark moments when I couldn’t take one more second of picturing my father’s mutilated corpse or my brother’s devastated reaction, I had turned my thoughts to Luther.
At first, he had been my refuge. I’d soothed myself with memories of how he had looked at me as the armory roof began to collapse, the words he’d whispered as we danced at the ball, how he’d held me while I burned—all the times he’d made me feel cherished in a way no one else ever had.
But in its fractured state, my anger over my father’s murder spilled over into my feelings toward the Prince. I’d fixated on the secrets he kept and the questions he still refused to answer, his role in my mother’s disappearance, the seeds of doubt Aemonn had planted.
And his promises—one broken promise in particular.
“We’ll find a solution,” Luther said, shattering the silence. “There must be something House Hanoverre cares about more than the mortals. A prime parcel of land perhaps, or an appointment to the Crown Council.”
“Were you not listening?” I snapped. Luther’s brows drew inward at my severe tone. “I’m not going to sell off the realm piece by piece. My life is not worth so great a price.”
His lips parted, the muscles along his throat tensing as if he badly wanted to dispute that statement.
I moved to leave, and he reached out and clutched my hand. “I will find his killer,” he swore. “I will not stop until they are brought to justice. I promise.”
“Like you promised me you would keep him safe?”
Luther did not flinch. He didn’t even react.
He didn’t have to.
The shame, the regret—it was already on his face. It had been there from the moment I’d found him standing at the door of my family home, bloody and shaking. There was no blame I could aim at Luther that he had not already turned on himself.
“You can’t keep my family safe. You can’t keep me from dying in the Challenging. You can’t guarantee my mother will return home. In fact, the only promise you’ve kept is the one you made to her to keep secrets from me.” I snatched my hand from his grasp. “And that’s only because she knows your secrets, too.”
I waited for him to deny it, apologize, beg forgiveness, yell at me, renew his vow—do something, anything. But he just watched me, not saying a word, with that same anguished expression.
And it was that silence that set my mace swinging.
“I’m sick of begging you for answers, Luther. I’m done with your secrets, and I’m done giving you my trust. Your promises mean nothing to me. And neither do you.”
We stared at each other in silence, his heart breaking in his eyes, mine shredding in my chest. I couldn’t take one more second of looking at the despair on his face, because it was far too much like a mirror of my own.
I pushed past him, my shoulder slamming into his and finding little resistance as he dipped his chin and yielded a step.
Something—some small spark of feeling, buried deep under a mountain of hurt—stopped me at the door.
“You make so many promises, but the only thing I ever really wanted was honesty. And it’s the one thing you still refuse to give.”
