Chapter
Thirty-Two
aura clutched my hand as I pressed my dagger into the freshly turned soil beside the matching blade Teller had set downM moments ago. We stepped back, and two of my father’s friends began to shovel dirt onto the knives.
With no body to bury and none of his possessions surviving my blast of magic, the only piece of my father I had left were the twin daggers I’d stolen from him as a young girl. So, in a makeshift grave where our home had once stood, we’d yielded the blades to the earth in his memory.
A formidable man and an extraordinary legacy, reduced to two dull, scratched-up hunks of metal and wood.
I had carried the daggers every day of my life until the night I arrived at the palace as Queen, when I’d cast them aside for being useless against the Descended. Burying them now felt poignant in all the worst ways.
I slipped my free hand into Teller’s while Maura murmured the Rite of Endings. Old instincts flared with warning as she read the sacred words of the Old Gods, forbidden under the late King’s laws, in earshot of the small cluster of Descended that had joined us. It took me a moment to remember—first, that these Descended were loyal to me, and second, that as the Crown, I was exempt from Ulther’s decrees.
And third—that I no longer gave a damn about anyone else’s rules but my own.
Teller and I had arranged the funeral to give ourselves some measure of closure and the chance to say goodbye. Maura and the healers had come, as well as a few of my father’s army friends. Henri’s father was there, though Henri was not—an absence I didn’t have the nerve to question.
The usual Corbois had come, too—Luther, Eleanor, Taran, Alixe, and Lily—as well as a few of the younger cousins Teller had befriended. Eleanor had assured me they would take Teller in as one of their own, but to see it happening in earnest, especially with the Challenging only two weeks away, filled me with grateful relief.
They kept their distance, standing across the clearing, just inside the now-flattened tree line of the surrounding forest. I hadn’t asked them to do so, but I guessed they’d been taught to keep themselves segregated from mortals, and I didn’t have the emotional strength today to shepherd them through a cultural revolution.
Luther watched me, as always. He wore his usual indifferent expression, though I saw the agony bleeding through it, and I wondered if I might look the same to him—dying, drop by drop, as my crimson grief stained all my flimsy attempts to pretend that I was healing.
The mortal guests and I took turns sharing stories of my father. Teller and I spoke of the wise lessons he had passed on.
Maura offered sweet recollections of our mother and father growing into their roles as newlyweds and young parents. My father’s friends alternated between hilarious stories of a young soldier bumbling through missions to prove himself and tales of glory of the great mortal Commander and his renowned leadership.
There was hardly a dry eye to be found... except mine.
My tears had dried up. These days, my grief was numb or it was angry—any other emotion had been stomped on and flattened.
“Hard to believe the great Andrei Bellator was taken down by a house fire,” one of my father’s friends said. He shot a dubious glance at the blackened crater nearby. “Must have been some fire.”
Teller and I exchanged a look. Though the search for his killer continued, we’d agreed to publicly declare our father’s death as an accident—a forgotten candle, tragically fallen over while he slept. Teller hadn’t liked it, but I was barely keeping the war off our doorstep as it was. If the Guardians discovered the Descended had murdered an innocent mortal in his own home, their retaliation would be swift—and deadly.
“We heard about the attack in Lumnos City,” the man went on. “If you need the army’s help, Your Majesty, we’d be honored to serve you.”
I swallowed down my disgust. I didn’t want the army anywhere near my realm. More soldiers, more weapons—it could only end in blood.
“It’s getting bad everywhere,” another man said. “The rebels have destroyed damn near half the ports in Meros.”
“They’re ruining things for everyone,” another spat. “I hear Meros might close its borders to mortals. Soon, there won’t be
any place left for us at all.”
Several nodded, while others watched me curiously, awaiting my response.
When I offered nothing, one of the older men—Gavert, a mortal who still served as an army officer, looked down at the grave with a heavy exhale. “We could have used Andrei’s wisdom. He had a talent for setting aside his emotion and striking
right at the heart of the issue.”
“Indeed,” I murmured.
I was haunted by my last interaction with my father. At the time, his advice had felt like an insult, so much like a blow.
I’d give everything to be wounded by him like that again. I would bleed at his hand forever, if it meant he was still at my side.
“Maybe we should talk this genius brother of yours into enlisting,” Gavert said, jerking his chin at Teller. “When the war heats up, we’ll need smart men like him in the rank and file.”
I shot Teller a look that said don’t even think about it, but I already knew he wouldn’t be tempted. Though he could fight as well as I could, he’d always seen our training as a chore. His dreams of greatness lay in books, not in battle.
“You really think war is coming?” Teller asked him.
“It’s already here,” I said. A few of the men confirmed my words with solemn nods.
With the stories and tears both dried up, I thanked everyone for coming and brought the funeral to a close. The guests fell into idle conversation, and Maura came around to my side.
“How are you holding up, dear? With your parents, and with—” Her eyes flicked up to the Crown. “—everything else?”
“I’m fine,” I said mechanically, flashing a false smile.
“I’ve known you too long to believe that lie,” she scolded. “Your mother disappears, your whole world turns upside down, your poor father dies, and now your home is gone.” Her bottom lip quivered. “It’s too much. The gods are asking too much of you.”
A laugh broke free before I could stop it, causing Maura’s frown to worsen. I didn’t feel as if the gods were asking anything of me—I felt they’d abandoned me entirely.
“Truly Maura, I’m alright.” I reached out to brush her tears away, and I pushed a bit more effort into making my smile look genuine. “How are things at the healers’ center? I hope my departure hasn’t been too much of a burden.”
Maura swatted at my hand. “Don’t you dare worry about us.” She beckoned the other healers over, and they offered up condolences, which I accepted with the hollow, edgeless calm that had become my permanent facade. “I promoted Lana to full healer status, so she’s taken on your work. The others are putting in extra time to join her as soon as they can.”
Lana loitered at the back of the group, as far from me as she could politely stand. Ever since spotting each other at my first Guardians meeting, things had been awkward between us. I felt ashamed for having failed her as her mentor, and considering my dramatic exit from the rebels and my new status as a Descended Queen, I imagined she felt petrified I might have her executed as a traitor.
“You’ll tell me if you need anything, won’t you?” I asked Maura. “I’ve already placed orders to the other realms for the herbs mortals aren’t allowed to buy. Send me a list of supplies you’re short on, and I’ll ensure it’s taken care of.”
“That’s very generous, Di—I mean, um, Your Majesty,” she corrected with a blush.
“I will always be Diem to you, Maura. All of you.” My eyes roamed the other healers, pausing on Lana with what I hoped was a meaningful look.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Maura asked.
“There is one thing,” I started slowly. “There’s a kind of test I must pass before I’m coronated.”
“The Challenging,” she said, nodding. “We’ve heard the details around town.” Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with new tears. “Such an awful thing.”
“I’m confident I’ll get through it,” I lied, “but if I don’t, my brother—he’ll be...” Fear tangled with the words in my throat.
Maura squeezed my hand. “My wife and I will take care of him. As long as we live, Teller will have family here.”
“Thank you. The royals have promised to care for him, too, but...”
I stopped short of admitting that, if I died, I wasn’t convinced the Corbois would remember me as anything more than a sad story to share over drinks. They meant well now, but Descended lives were long, and my time in their family would last only a month.
Luther won’t forget, my conscience pushed at me. He’ll keep his word to you, even if you die.
I winced and banished the thoughts.
“We’ll look out for him,” Maura insisted with a pat on my hand. “Don’t you worry.”
I pulled her into an appreciative hug and promised I would come into town to see them all again soon. As they walked away, I tugged on Lana’s arm and dropped my voice low. “Lana, I know you and I have never discussed our, um... mutual acquaintances.”
She stared, wide-eyed and shaking. “Are you going to punish me?”
“How could I? You’ve committed no crime I am not guilty of myself.”
Her look of relief quickly gave way to suspicion. “The night of the ball... they said someone controlled their minds. That was because of you, wasn’t it?”
I stepped closer, and she edged away. “There were children in that ballroom, Lana. And the Guardians were far more outnumbered than they realized. They all would have died—Henri would have died. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Her throat worked. “So you still love him?”
I stared at the ground, unsure how to answer. Unsure if I even knew the answer.
“I doubt it matters,” I said. “He must hate me now.”
We both looked painfully uncomfortable, shifting on our feet and avoiding each other’s gaze. I knew Lana often worked with Henri on rebel missions, and from how I’d seen them chat excitedly at meetings, I suspected they’d become friends. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes and risk seeing my fears confirmed.
Henri’s father started toward us, to Lana’s deep relief. I gave her arm a final squeeze. “Be careful, Lana. The Guardians’ purpose is honorable, but their methods...”
Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but I swore a shadow of troubled agreement wavered in her eyes before she bolted away.
“Mr. Albanon,” I said as Henri’s father approached. “Thank you for coming.”
With their warm eyes and kind faces, he and his son looked so much alike, my heart twisted at the sight. It was a harsh reminder of what Henri might look like in a few decades, as his mortal body aged while I stayed in a near-permanent youth.
“Of course,” he said gruffly, then paused. “I understand congratulations are in order on your betrothal to my son.”
“He told you?” My heart leapt for a brief moment—until I saw the stark doubt scrawled across his face.
“You know I’ve always adored you, Diem. I’ve been telling my son to propose to you for years. I’ve always believed you two were meant to be, even now that you’re—” He cut himself off and glanced furtively at the Corbois cousins across the clearing, lowering his voice. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you his dislike of them has grown quite... passionate.”
I nodded but offered nothing more. Henri had always tried to hide his true feelings about the Descended from his father. I would not betray him any more than I already had.
“I barely recognize him these days. He used to be a happy boy, and now he just seems so... so angry.” He rubbed at his eyes with a mournful stare. “The more I try to reach him, the more he pushes me away. He’s a shell of himself. Whatever he’s going through, it’s eating him alive.”
My heart ached, his words hitting a bit too close to home.
“You’ve always brought out the goodness in my boy’s soul,” he went on. “I prayed his love for you would give him a greater purpose. Without you... I confess, I fear what he might become.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I choked out. “Henri’s a good man.”
His features turned grave. “Even good men can lose their way.”
My already crushing guilt swelled. I couldn’t bear the look in his eyes—his desperate hope that I might still be his son’s salvation. But how could I save Henri’s soul when my own was so irreparably broken?
I excused myself before the conversation could spear any further into the dents in my armor and walked toward the group of Corbois. They, at least, would not expect me to talk—I’d hardly spoken a word to any of them since the meeting with House Hanoverre.
Even my daily breakfasts with Luther had become wholly one-sided. Gone was our playful teasing, our swapped stories about our lives, our prolonged looks and private smiles. Now I merely listened while he gave his reports and studied me with that damn all-seeing stare.
Once or twice, he had sat up straighter and looked at me with sudden fire in his eyes, as if he might say something more— but in the end, he never did. He kept his walls, and I kept mine.
And each day, my heart hardened a little more.
“Thank you for coming. Teller and I appreciate your support.” My voice felt artificial, even to my own ears.
“We would never miss it,” Eleanor said. “Your father seemed like a wonderful man.”
“He was a hero to all of Emarion,” Alixe added. “A man who led with courage and heart—just like his daughter.” Her reverent look had me swallowing hard.
“He would be very proud of you,” Luther said quietly.
“No,” I clipped. “He would not.”
He frowned deeply, and I looked down, awkwardly smoothing the lines of my simple black frock. My chest warmed as I realized the Corbois had all worn black instead of their traditional glittering red, a small but significant gesture from people so accustomed to overriding mortal culture with their own.
When I finally mustered the strength to look back up, Luther’s attention had moved to something over my shoulder. His eyes were narrow and streaked with shadow, his fists hanging clenched at his sides.
“Diem?” a familiar voice called out.
The beating of my heart stopped in an instant.
I spun around to see Henri standing halfway across the clearing. Vance, the leader of the Lumnos Guardians, stood beside
him, scowling, arms folded over his chest.
“Henri,” I breathed. I broke into a run to meet him. “You came. I didn’t think... that is, I wasn’t sure...”
He shifted his weight, his apprehension evident. His expression was pinched, almost conflicted—not exactly love, but far from the hate-filled betrayal I’d been dreading.
Hope sparked anew, and adrenaline burned like fire in my veins as I fumbled for words. There was so much I wanted to say, so much to make right.
“Please, Henri,” I begged, “you must know I did it because I care about you. I didn’t know what else to do. You would have been killed, and I—”
“Henri was prepared to die,” Vance said matter-of-factly. “We all were.”
“Then you’re all fools,” I shot back.
Vance’s glare sharpened. “That was our best chance to take the palace. You betrayed us to protect them.”
“I was protecting you. All of you. You would never have succeeded, and I could not let so many mortals walk into their own slaughter.”
“You could have called the Descended off,” Henri finally spoke up. “I saw the guards obey your commands.”
“It’s not so simple,” I said, my voice softening as my focus shifted back to him. “Until I’m coronated, the Regent’s orders overrule mine. He would have told the guards to kill all of you.”
He watched me quietly, uncertainty slithering into his features. I rushed forward and took his hands.
“You know me, Henri. You really think I would ever turn my back on the mortals?”
Vance scoffed loudly. Henri shot him a scowl that was surprisingly severe and turned to pull me aside.
Vance reached out to grab his arm. “Brother Henri,” he said, his low tone loaded with warning.
“Are you going to accuse me of being a traitor now, too?” Henri snapped.
I watched mutely as the air thickened with tension, my grief momentarily overshadowed by my shock. Vance stared him down, but Henri didn’t budge. Finally, he let go, and his expression smoothed. “Of course not, Brother Henri. I know you’re with us.”
Henri’s expression darkened. He tugged me away until we were out of earshot.
“Do you really mean what you said back there?” he asked. “You did it to save us—not to protect them?”
“I... yes, of course.”
The truth—that I’d done it for both reasons, as unwilling to allow the murder of my Corbois friends as I was to permit Henri’s execution—was a nuance I wasn’t sure he would ever accept.
I slid my hands to his chest, clutching at his tunic. “You have no idea the risk I took to send the Guardians away without bloodshed. It could still cost me everything. But I was willing to do it—for you. For the mortals.”
His hands slowly lifted to my hips, his eyes jumping across my face. “What about the flameroot? You promised to get us some.”
I swore internally. I’d completely forgotten about that offer, blurted out in a last-resort bid to keep his trust. “Right now, I’m just trying to stay alive. After the Challenging, we can come up with a plan—”
“Vance thinks we need to act before the Challenging. Just in case...” He trailed off, struggling to look at me.
Hurt clouded my thoughts, and I pulled away. “Is that all I am now—a resource to exploit as much as you can before I die?”
“No,” he said quickly. “But what if we could stop the Challenging from happening at all? If we take the palace before then, they’ll have to cancel it, and you’d be safe.”
“They would send in the entire army to take it back. Do you really believe the Guardians can survive that?”
His defeated expression said he didn’t, though traces of doubt lingered. I reached for him and he stiffened, and just like the day he’d found me in the palace, a desperate kind of frenzy began to overtake my better sense. I’d already lost my father, and now I was holding on to Henri by the barest thread. If I lost him, I feared I’d lose myself forever, too.
“Let me prove to you I still want to help. Remember that mission I failed? The Guardians wanted the details of the Crown’s
boat—I can get them access to it.”
His face lit up. “You would do that?”
“Only if it’s done my way.” He looked as if he might argue, and I raised a hand to cut him off. This was a line I would not cross, not even for him. “If the Guardians want my help, our targets have to be in the right place—ending the unfair laws, ensuring all mortals are cared for and protected. Justice, not murder.”
He nodded, slowly at first, then more emphatically. “Yes—yes. We all want those things. Surely the others will see that.
Although...” Henri frowned and raked a hand through his hair. “Vance thinks you only support them now.” His eyes shot across the clearing, his tone turning chilly. “You two have made friends quickly.”
My gaze followed his to the Corbois. One of the cousins had their arm around Teller, Lily clutching his hand as they quietly talked. Eleanor and Taran were pretending that they hadn’t just been staring at us, while Luther glared at Henri like a nocked arrow, ready to fly. Alixe had wandered to the scorched soil of my old home, where she knelt and held up a glittering onyx rock, turning it over in her hands.
I couldn’t deny it—I had befriended them quickly, even though I’d always struggled to make friends with mortal peers. I couldn’t help but wonder, was it just because of the Crown? Or had I isolated myself from other mortals because, somewhere deep down, I’d always known I wasn’t like them?
“It’s not as black and white as we thought when we were kids,” I confessed. “A lot of them are good people. Some of them even want to end the injustice just as we do. A few are as evil as we imagined, but...” I looked at Vance, noting his sour look as he eyed us from afar. “So are some of the mortals.”
Henri slumped, looking queasy. “I’m so sorry, D. I let my anger get carried away, and everything spun so far out of control.”
I snaked my arms around his waist and buried my head in his chest, needing to feel him against me and know he wasn’t gone forever. Tension eased from his muscles as he pulled me close. For a blissful moment, it felt like we had gone back in time, back when our love was untainted by war and unburdened by the weight of a Crown.
“I miss you,” I whispered. “You were my best friend, and then suddenly you were just... gone.”
“I regret so much of what has happened,” he murmured against my hair. “This isn’t the man I want to be.” He leaned away and raised a hand to cup my cheek. “Let’s put all this behind us. Forgive each other for everything we’ve done and start over. A clean slate.”
I managed a weak smile and nodded. “I’d like that.”
He nudged my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. It was tender and soft, so different from the breathless frenzy of our last kiss. That kiss had been like a plea—a promise, of what I might offer him if he would agree to stay by my side. This was a plea of a different kind.
Henri let out a groan as he deepened the kiss. He gripped my waist hard and my eyes fluttered open in surprise, falling instantly on two familiar pools of blue-grey across the clearing, stormy and teeming with emotion.
Regret. Hurt. Loss.
Taran wrapped a hand around Luther’s arm and tugged him back, forcing him to look away.
I pulled back so abruptly that I yanked clear of Henri’s grasp. He bristled, cocking his head with a frown.
Suddenly, I needed to be anywhere but here.
“Tomorrow,” I rushed out, falling back a step. “Meet me at sunset. The cove where we used to collect oysters.”
“Diem—”
“I have to go. I... I’ll see you then.”
I turned, and I ran—through the forest, past Mortal City, and down the road to the palace. Even as my guards shouted in confusion, Perthe chasing me with pleas to slow down, I ran and I ran, and I didn’t stop until I was back in my chambers, gasping for breath under the scrutiny of Sorae’s dark ochre eyes.
But no matter how hard I fled from my problems, there were truths chasing me I couldn’t outrun much longer.
