Chapter
Thirty-Five
alking back into the healer’s center of Mortal City was a strange enough experience, having given up my career as aW healer.
But doing so as the Queen of Lumnos, with Princess Lilian on my arm while Taran and a crowd of Royal Guards hovered outside? That felt like wading through a lucid dream. The details were vivid and familiar, but nothing made any sense. Nothing quite fit.
Weeks ago, Lily had confessed an interest in learning the healer’s trade. With my time running out, I was determined to keep my word to help her. It didn’t hurt that it was also a perfect excuse to keep her out of the palace and far away from Remis.
“It’s a beautiful day to save some lives,” I called out as I strolled through the door. It was the same chipper greeting I’d given for years, though today, my casual lightness felt like a lie.
“Diem!” Maura yelped and jumped to her feet. “How—what are you—that is, you’re always welcome here, of course, but —why?”
“I’d like to offer a trade.” I held up a large wicker basket. “A few hours in the workroom in exchange for supplies to restock the inventory.”
Maura peered in at the contents, and her face went slack. “Is this...?”
“Hawksflower, star nettle, and sweet blushroom,” I chirped, a rare glimmer of genuine happiness shining through my dark fog. “I had them planted in the palace gardens.”
Maura continued to gape as Lily looked between us, her brows furrowed with confusion.
“They’re rare medicinal herbs,” I explained. “Forbidden for mortals to plant, too expensive for mortals to buy.”
“Why are they forbidden to plant?” she asked.
“Forbidden for mortals,” I corrected. “These herbs fetch a very high price, and any crop of significant value can only be grown on farms owned by the Descended.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. There should be an exception for medicinal plants.”
Maura and I exchanged a knowing look.
“Perhaps,” I agreed. “Or perhaps the rule should not exist at all. Perhaps mortal and Descended farmers should be treated equally in all things.”
Lily opened her mouth and closed it, then repeated the gesture again, looking like a fish plucked from the sea and gasping to be tossed back in.
I could see her mind turning over the same explanations we’d all been given—that these laws existed to protect mortals, to shield them from matters only the Descended could safely handle—and, to my pleasant surprise, finally rejecting them with a disapproving frown.
She sighed. “Luther said the same thing to me once. I suppose I should have paid closer attention.”
My brows rose. “He did?”
“He wanted to teach me about the laws before I joined the Crown Council, but...” Her cheeks flushed. “When he starts talking about politics, I confess that I... um, well... I...”
I nudged her arm. “At least that’s one thing mortals and Descended will always have in common—not listening to their older siblings.”
Lily gave me a relieved smile, though the tiny crease between her brows told me her mind was still chewing on a problem
she wouldn’t soon dismiss.
Good.
I handed the basket off to Maura. “I gave the palace gardener instructions to have all clippings sent here. If the deliveries don’t continue after...” I swallowed. “...after next week, speak with Luther. He’ll ensure it’s taken care of.”
Maura stared at me with enough pity on her features that I had to look away. “That’s very thoughtful,” she said. “I heard about what you did for the orphanage. They’ve been able to take in twice as many children now, you know.”
I shrugged off her words, though my heart sang with satisfaction. In the weeks since my disastrous meeting with House
Hanoverre, I’d realized my opportunity to help the mortals might begin and end with the Period of Challenging. There was little I could do without Remis’s consent as Regent, but I’d managed a few small acts of rebellion.
After watching mountains of food go to waste from the vast buffets offered each mealtime, I’d bribed two kitchen servants into delivering the leftovers to families I knew to be struggling. A number of forbidden books about mortal history and culture had also mysteriously gone missing from the palace archives, where they may or may not have reappeared on the shelves of the mortal school bearing the seal of the Crown and a note of exemption from the laws.
I’d even roped Alixe into my scheming. As Luther’s second-in-command in the Royal Guard, she had authority over the Descended who patrolled Mortal City. After a long conversation, she’d agreed to take a more active role in supervising them and remove a number of guards who, unbeknownst to her, were notorious among mortals for their violent ways.
I had no idea if any of these initiatives would survive me, but amid all my screw-ups and strained relationships, these gestures were the only thing that kept the looming darkness at bay.
“Go on then,” Maura huffed, shooing us toward the workroom. “Stay for as long as you need, but keep out of sight, or I’ll have a line of people pretending to be ill just to get a look at you.”
I ushered Lily into the back where I set about explaining each item in the inventory and their various uses. She watched eagerly, jotting down notes and offering thoughtful questions that I would have expected from a much more advanced trainee.
In fact, the longer I watched her expression light up with interest, the more I realized how well-suited Lily would have been as a healer, if she were a mortal. She was studious and responsible, she had a keen mind for plants, and she seemed to derive true joy from helping others, especially to those who were outsiders, as Teller and I had been.
I felt a pang of sadness that her royal status made it nearly impossible for her to have any trade, especially one typically relegated to mortals—only to realize with a start that I was pitying a royal Descended for being unable to work.
Months ago, I would have sneered at the thought, but lately my eyes had been opened to the two faces of the oppressive regime. The mortals were not the only ones bound by injustice—and the mortals were not the only ones who stood to gain from its destruction.
I set Lily on a task to mix a handful of simple salves that might be useful in treating the everyday scrapes of her younger cousins. After watching and offering occasional advice, I left her to her work and began my own task rereading my mother’s notes on Descended poisons and their antidotes.
Just in case.
“I’ll agree to marry him, you know,” Lily said after a few minutes, her voice almost too soft to hear. She kept her eyes on her work as she mashed leaves in her mortar and pestle. “If it will keep everyone from fighting, I’ll marry Roderyck Byrnum. I don’t mind.”
I shot her a look. “Making other people happy is not the right reason to marry someone, Lily.”
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Roderyck isn’t so bad. His House is small, but they’re growing fast, and they have business dealings in almost every realm. An alliance with them will be good for House Corbois. And then Luther won’t have to worry about me anymore, and Father won’t be so angry with him or with you. And Teller...”
Her voice faded. Her chin tipped down to hide her face.
“You can help the family in other ways,” I said gently. “After you finish school, you can be my advisor. You could even continue healer training here.”
She shook her head. “If I decline, he might choose Eleanor to marry Roderyck. Why should she have to take my place?”
My hands clenched around my mother’s journals. “No Corbois woman is getting forced into marriage while I live and breathe.”
“We’re not being forced.” Her tone had grown uncharacteristically defensive. “We’re simply raised to do what’s best for the family. If I tell my father no, he’ll respect it. This is my choice.”
I couldn’t help the roll of my eyes. “Are you sure? Because he—”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Lily huffed. She let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re so much like my brother.”
I balked, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.
“You both mean well,” she said, “and you both want to protect me. But have either of you asked if I want to be protected?”
I started to bite back a response, then stopped myself. Lily’s innate sweetness made it easy to see her as a child, innocent and defenseless against the unforgiving reality of the world, but that was far from the truth. She was clever and incredibly perceptive. She understood how Descended society worked much better than I did. And she was capable of making her own decisions—even if I didn’t like them.
“Perhaps this isn’t everything I want,” she went on, “but you did not want to be Queen, either. You accepted your role, and I can choose to accept mine.”
I set down my notes and joined her at her side, leaning against the worktop with my elbows. “I understand,” I sighed.
“Truly, I do. But there is another reason.”
Lily’s eyebrows inched upward.
I traced the chipped wood of the worktable to avoid her stare. I had hoped to not have to share these particular fears that
had been haunting me of late. They revealed too much that I was not yet ready to admit.
“If I do not survive the Challenging,” I said slowly, “and Luther becomes King, he will need you. He will need to keep those he trusts close, and there is no one he trusts more than you. If you have left to join House Byrnum...”
I knew from the distress written on her face that I didn’t have to finish. The idea of not being there for her beloved brother when he needed her most—if there was anything that might change Lily’s mind, it was that.
“I will never condemn you for anything you freely choose, Lily. I only ask that you give yourself time to discover who you’re meant to be. One month ago, I was a poor, unknown mortal healer, and now I am Queen. And perhaps next month...” I gave her a sad smile. “No one can predict what the gods have in store.”
Lily looked down at her hands, chewing on her lip in silence.
“Wait just a little longer, that’s all I ask,” I urged. “For Luther, if not for yourself.”
Silence stretched out between us. I set my palm on her hand in a wordless show of support before moving to return to my work.
“You still care about him?” she asked softly.
I halted in place and winced. “Lily...”
“He’s in a dark place, too, you know. Just like you. He’s devastated. I’ve never seen him so sad. He feels like he let you down, and if he lets you down then he’s letting everyone down, because he thinks you—”
“Lily, please, this is between me and Luther.”
“You’re so much more alike than you realize. If you only knew, if he would only—”
“Lily.” I slumped into my chair, then snatched another of my mother’s journals and loudly flipped it open. “Back to work.”
“Do you hate him?”
My face whipped toward hers. Her midnight blue eyes were round and glittering with unshed tears.
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t.”
“Has he lost you forever?”
This time, I didn’t answer.
WITH ALIXE GLUED to my brother’s side and Luther having vanished without explanation, my magic training was now—gods help me—solely in Taran’s hands.
Though weeks with no progress had left us both cranky, he had refused my begging to call off our session, so we’d compromised on sparring the mortal way—with fists and swords. It would do me no good at the Challenging, but it had become my one outlet for the grim, rotting emotions poisoning me from the inside out.
Unlike Alixe and Luther, who always softened their attacks for fear of injuring their Queen, Taran never held back, and I loved him for it. I threw my bottled-up rage and self-destruction into every swing, and he returned each one with equal force. It left both of us bruised, limping, and exhausted, but little by little, I felt the darkness beginning to give way.
“Fine, I admit it, you are a good fighter,” Taran said with a grunt after I’d clocked him across the chin. “Good thing, since you’re so shit at using magic.”
He lunged to clip me with his sword, barely missing as I spun out of reach. “You’re a good opponent,” I said. “Good thing, since you’re so shit at teaching magic.”
He feinted to the left and barked a laugh as I swerved to miss the non-existent attack, then caught me with the point of his blade right in the soft hollow of my back.
I whimpered and clutched the tender spot. “Fine. I deserved that.”
He pointed the sword accusingly. “Don’t blame my teaching for you holding back on your magic.”
“We’ve been through this,” I groaned. “I’m not holding back. I’ve tried everything, Taran. I don’t know why it won’t
answer me.”
“I do.”
I arched an eyebrow. He leaned on his blade like a cane, looking smug and self-satisfied.
“Are you going to tell me?” I pushed.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“That never stopped you before.”
He snorted, then tossed his sword to the side, letting it clatter to the ground. “Land another punch and I’ll tell you.”
I threw my blade down and cracked my knuckles with a devious smile.
We both fell into a fighting posture, fists raised to our chins as we circled each other with matching sets of narrowed eyes.
Taran was indeed a good fighter. A great fighter, in fact. He’d been trained extensively in every aspect of defense, from
magic to weapons to physical combat, and unlike most men his size, he rarely relied on his brawn to gain the upper hand.
But for all his prowess, Taran also had one glaring weakness.
“Any day now,” he taunted, spinning smoothly on his heels as I bobbed around him.
I held my tongue—biding my time.
He jerked toward me a few times in an effort to provoke me to act, but I kept up my slow rotation.
Watching. Waiting.
“Are you going to just hop around like that or are you going to throw a punch?” he pushed.
Still I waited.
His grin took on a devilish slant. “Maybe you don’t want to know. Maybe you’re running fr—”
Thwack.
Taran’s head snapped to the side as my knuckle connected with his jaw. He staggered backward in surprise, then lost his balance, tumbling onto his back on the stone floor of the dungeon.
I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. “On my first attempt. How embarrassing for you.”
He winced and rubbed his face. “Fine. I deserved that, too.”
“Well?” I stood over him with my hands on my hips. “What’s the big secret, then? Why can’t I use my magic?”
He let his limbs go limp and patted the ground next to him in an invitation to sit. I rolled my eyes but gave in, curling up at his side.
“Do you remember when Alixe said the godhood is tied to our emotions?” he asked.
I nodded and pulled my knees to my chest, already apprehensive about where the conversation was headed.
“Well, in order for the godhood to feed off of our emotions, we must actually have emotions. And you don’t. Not anymore.”
“Taran, my mother is missing, my father is dead, my brother’s in danger, and I’m probably about to die. Believe me, I have no shortage of emotions.”
“Maybe somewhere in there, but you’re not letting yourself feel them.” He shook his head sadly. “When you got here, you were full of life. You laughed, you cried, you flirted, you got angry. You threatened Luther within an inch of his life. You threatened half of Lumnos within an inch of their lives. When’s the last time you’ve done any of that?”
I hugged my legs tighter and rested my chin on my knee, staying silent.
“I’ve been trying to pick a fight to get something out of you, but you won’t even be angry with me. The moment you start to feel anything real, you shut it down.”
“I just... I need more time,” I mumbled.
“I know.” He reached over and grabbed my hand, wrapping it up in his calloused palm. “But you don’t have time, Queenie.”
I sighed and stretched out on the cold floor beside him, closing my eyes as I laid my head back.
As I had done every day prior, I tried to conjure up some tendril of feeling, some well of anger or sadness that might provoke the godhood into action. It felt like sticking my hand into a firepit—I could sense the dangerous warmth that lay within, but the moment my mind began to register the pain of it, I was jerked back to the cold safety of numbness.
It was no longer a conscious choice, but a reflex, a raw act of survival. Because if I truly gave in and walked into that inferno, I wasn’t sure I would ever walk back out.
“Diem?”
“Yes?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I cringed at the realization I’d pushed him so far away that he doubted even that.
I squeezed his hand. “Of course we are. You mean a great deal to me, Taran.”
“Then can I ask you a serious question?”
“Sure.” I looked over and forced out a supportive smile. “Ask me anything.”
“When are you and Luther going to put all of us out of our misery and fuck each other already?”
“Taran,” I choked.
“Descended men are bigger than mortal men, you know. In every way. One night with Lu, and you’d forget that mortal’s name. Shit, you’d forget your own name.”
He roared with laughter as I yanked my hand out of his and punched him hard in the side, my entire face going cherry red.
“Is this another of your attempts to piss me off?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning. I tried to move away and he grabbed me around the waist, hauling me back. “I’d still like
an answer, though.”
“Taran,” I warned. “I’m betrothed.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, to a man who couldn’t be bothered to attend your father’s funeral on time. Then when he finally arrived, he looked at you like you killed his favorite hound, even though you were the one grieving. A man who apparently only wants to marry you to be King, from what you said at the ball.”
“It’s complicated. And it’s none of your business.”
“Listen, I’m sure he’s a very nice person... well, I’m sure he thinks he’s a very nice person... but you can’t really believe
he’s a better man than Luther.”
I worked my jaw but said nothing.
“Luther would throw himself on a sword for you. He would risk everything to protect you.”
“He would do that for you, too. Or Alixe, or Eleanor, or Lily.”
“Well, yes, he would, but we—”
“And for that matter, he would do those things for a complete stranger.”
“Yes, true, but—”
“In fact, he already has done those things for strangers. Many times.”
“If you could stop being logical for one minute—”
“You don’t have to convince me Luther is a good man, Taran. I know that already.”
“No, Diem, I don’t think you do. Not really.”
Taran’s tone had gone unusually serious. When I looked at him, there was a softness to his eyes, a profound gravity I didn’t often see.
“He’s the best man I know—the best man I’ve ever known. And for all those years, he’s never put himself first, not even once. Every single thing he does is to help someone else. I could give you enough stories to last a lifetime. People he’s helped out of bad situations, children whose lives he sav—”
Taran stopped, catching himself. His eyes filled with panic as they met mine.
“I know about the half-mortal children,” I murmured. “He told me.”
“He did?” His shoulders relaxed, and he shook his head, smirking. “Well, he wouldn’t tell that to a complete stranger, would he?”
I snorted softly. “No, just to a skeptical new Queen whose trust he was scrambling to earn.”
“Stop,” he growled. His voice, and his face, went hard as stone. “Don’t act like he’s one of those scheming court pricks.
He deserves better than that.”
I didn’t know what to say. Questioning Luther’s motives had become a crutch that I leaned on every time the evidence of his good heart made me look a little too closely at my own. It was easier to deflect rather than confront the truth. And Luther did deserve better than that.
“I’m betrothed,” I said again, less sure than I was before.
Taran sat up beside me. He raked a hand through his dark blonde waves, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and gave me a pained look.
“He’ll wait for you, you know. It’s going to destroy him, but he’ll do it. He’ll sit back, and he’ll watch you marry that mortal. He’ll defend you to the entire realm while you put a crown on that jerk’s head and let him parade around calling himself King for however many decades he has left. And when he dies, Luther’s going to hold you while you mourn. Even if it takes you centuries to move on. And Kindred forbid, if you have children with that man, Luther will be there for them too, as the best uncle they’ve ever had. And when their mortal father is gone, Luther will step up and love them as if they were his own.”
A sharp burning hit my eyes. I squeezed them shut.
“Luther will stand by your side, and he will love you for every single day of it. And he won’t say a word. He’ll spend his entire miserable life protecting your happiness, hoping that someday you finally see him. Not Luther the Prince or the High General or the advisor, but him.”
I tried to speak, but my throat had gone tight, fusing closed to keep my turmoil hidden as I desperately willed my heart to follow suit.
“And Kindred help me, Queenie, but if you do that to him... I adore you, I thank Blessed Lumnos you came into our lives.
I’ll defend you as my Queen, no matter who you marry. But if you put Luther through that...”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I forced out. “I’m angry with him, but I don’t want to break his heart.”
“Then don’t.”
When I opened my eyes, Taran was scrubbing at his face and staring off into the distance. “He’s done more for me than I could ever repay,” he mumbled to himself, as if fighting some internal debate. “This... this is the least I could do. I have no right to ask this, but... Fortos’s balls, he’ll kill me if he finds out...” He blew out a deep breath. “Fuck it. He would never ask this of you, so I will. I owe him that much.”
Taran swiveled to me. He leaned in close and clasped my face in his hands, forcing our eyes to meet. “Leave him. Leave that stupid mortal who does not deserve you, and be with Luther.”
“Taran...”
“There is something between you two I’ve never seen in any couple before. When you look at each other, it’s like the rest of the world ceases to exist.”
“Taran—”
“At this point, I’m convinced even the Kindred want you together. And it’s clear you want him, too. So stop being a damn coward, Diem, and choose Luther.”
I jolted backward, snatching my chin from his hands. A thousand conflicting reactions were waging a bloody war inside me, and I wasn’t entirely sure which one was going to come out victorious.
“You’re right,” I said finally.
Hope rose sun-bright on his face. “I am?”
“Yes.” I swallowed. “You don’t have any right to ask that of me.” And just like that, his hope was dead. “Who I decide to be with is my choice. Not yours, and sure as hell not the Kindred.”
“I know it’s your choice, I only—”
“And I am so gods-damned sick and tired of hearing the opinions of every person in the realm on who I should and
shouldn’t marry.”
“Diem, that’s not what I—”
I stood up, my voice growing louder with each word. “You don’t know what I want. You don’t know me at all, Taran. So stay out of it.”
Taran shot to his feet and glowered at me from his towering height. “You know what? You’re right, too. I thought maybe I did know you, or at least knew the kind of person you are. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“Well, it’s your lucky week,” I said bitterly. “In three days, you’ll be free of me forever. You and Luther both.”
His face fell, his anger crumbling to dust. “Queenie,” he murmured. He reached for me, but I slipped out of his grip and walked away.
