Chapter
Thirty-Six
he final House Reception had arrived.T Today, I would meet the last of the Twenty Houses—House Ghislaine, a small family with few members but, due to its shrewd dealings in gold, a staggering amount of wealth. I had expected the end of the meetings to bring a sense of relief, or at least some gloomy finality to my situation, but instead, I was more anxious than ever.
“Last one,” Eleanor sang, beaming at me as we walked to the meeting room. “And what a perfect House to end on. House Ghislaine never feuds with anyone.”
“Which means I’ll likely end this one with an actual blade in my chest,” I grumbled.
She grinned and patted my hand. “I think you truly are safe today. House Ghislaine is too vulnerable as the bottom House to stir up any trouble.”
In truth, with the Challenging two days away, it made little difference whether this meeting went exceptionally well or exceptionally awful. The Twenty Houses had laid out their demands, and I’d laid out my offers. Neither side had budged. Now I could only wait for my fate to unfold.
“Are we sure it’s safe to leave Lily and Teller unguarded while we’re all here together?” I asked.
Behind me, Taran let out a wordless grunt. I threw him a questioning glance, but he refused to meet my eyes. We hadn’t spoken since our argument the night before, which had made his assignment to shadow me particularly awkward.
“They’ll be safe in your chambers,” she assured me. “And they’re hardly unguarded. Perthe is with them, and half the Royal Guard is lined up outside your suite.”
“And they all answer to Remis,” I muttered.
“Only for a few more days,” she said happily.
I didn’t answer.
Taran finally spoke up, his tone curt. “Remis won’t hurt them. He has nothing to gain from it, and he knows Luther would kill him if he tried.”
Eleanor nodded. “They’ll be fine. Luther’s just being overprotective because it’s Lily.”
“He’s being overprotective because it’s Diem.”
I looked back at Taran again, and he shot me a loaded stare.
As we walked into the meeting room for the final time, Remis, Garath, and Aemonn were huddled together in a corner and talking in hushed but animated whispers. Alixe was already seated. Something about her was off. Though she normally shared Luther’s unflappable demeanor, today her features were strained with alarm.
She shot to her feet at the sight of me. As I started toward her, Aemonn smoothly stepped into my path.
“Your Majesty,” he crooned, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Congratulations on your final House Reception. It’s certainly been an interesting process.” He winked, his azure eyes glittering with subtext.
I looked across his shoulder to where Taran and Alixe were now whispering. Aemonn shifted to block my view.
“It’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to talk,” he said. “I have so missed our conversations.”
“I’ve been busy.” A lie—I’d been anything but busy, spending most of my days sulking alone in my rooms, but I’d lost my patience for the flirtation that time with Aemonn always involved.
He tilted his head at the snip in my tone. “I was hoping I could steal you away for a quick—”
“Diem,” Eleanor hissed. She had joined Taran and Alixe and was frantically waving me over.
“Um, please excuse me. I need to...” My voice trailed off as I tried to push past him.
His hand clamped around my upper arm and jerked me back into place.
I stared at him in shock. My muscles twitched with the urge to react, and I had to bite down to keep my training at bay and not send him face-first into the stone floor.
“I wasn’t quite finished,” he said with sickly sweetness.
“Get your hand off me.”
“After everything I’ve done for you, I think I’m entitled to a few minutes of your time.”
A golden-skinned fist shot between us and seized his wrist.
“Hands off, asshole,” Taran growled.
He leaned his broad chest into his brother to force him back onto uneasy footing. Aemonn returned his glare, their foreheads dipping toward each other like wild rams.
Their different personalities often made it difficult to remember that these two were brothers, but in this moment, it had never been more clear. It wasn’t just their sun-kissed skin or their sandy blonde hair, but the years of hatred that simmered in their eyes—the kind of deeply personal resentment that only family could provoke.
Aemonn turned his focus back to me. “You really shouldn’t ignore me, Diem. I’m not the only one with a vested interest in keeping our relationship cordial, am I?” The corner of his lip quirked up, pleased at his own subtle threat.
Taran snarled in response. “You foul, lowlife, slimy piece of rotten garbage, you—”
“Taran,” I said calmly. “Let go of your brother.”
His eyes snapped to me. “Diem, don’t let him push you around.”
“Let Aemonn go,” I repeated. “Please.”
Taran grunted loudly and released his brother’s hand with a shove, but he didn’t move from his imposing position.
Aemonn gave him a victorious smirk. “You heard the lady. Shoo.”
Taran puffed his chest forward, sending his brother staggering back another step.
“Taran,” I warned.
His glare shifted to me, now mixed with disbelief and a touch of betrayal. He huffed and turned away.
The moment Taran was out of reach, I acted.
I spun my forearm in a circle, knocking Aemonn’s hand away with a heavy thump, then locked his elbow with my own so his arm twisted into an unnatural angle at his back. He arched backward and barked in pained surprise.
I leaned in until my mouth brushed his ear. “I don’t care what you’ve done for me or what secrets you know, Aemonn— you’re not entitled to any part of me,” I hissed. “And if you ever grab me like that again, I’ll use my blades instead of my hands.”
A group of unfamiliar faces began to trail into the room, then froze at the sight of us. Remis and Garath shot me matching scowls as they crossed to greet the new arrivals, and I quickly released Aemonn from my hold.
“That was a big mistake,” he seethed.
“I accept your apology,” I said dryly.
Before he could sputter another veiled threat, I turned my back to him and walked away.
Taran gaped at me in delight. “I take back everything I said,” he breathed. “I’ll never be mad at you again.”
“Highly doubtful. Taran, what’s going on? Why is everyone whispering?”
His amusement vanished. “Remis is an ass.”
My breath caught. “Lily—is she alright? Did he—”
“Your Majesty,” a voice called out from behind me. I whirled to see a man striding toward me with arms extended. He was dripping with gilded finery—golden chains hanging from his neck, golden studs lining his ears and eyebrows, and golden thread embroidered into his clothing. Even his hair seemed plated in the yellow metal.
“Welcome, House Ghislaine,” I forced out as we embraced.
Remis gestured toward the assembled chairs. “Shall we get started?” he said warmly, ever the diplomat.
“We’re missing Luther,” I said. “We should wait until he arrives.”
“No need,” Remis said. “My son won’t be attending today. Everyone, please, take your seats.”
A cold chill crept along my skin. I tried to catch Remis’s gaze to push for more, but he was carefully avoiding eye contact, his focus entirely on the visiting Descended.
My attention shot to Taran, who had already stepped back to sink into his chair. All he offered was a silent shake of his head. I held my stance, debating how much of a scene I was willing to make, when he mouthed a single word: “Later.”
Reluctantly, I slipped into my seat. Surely Taran wouldn’t let me sit through hours of political posturing if Luther was in danger.
Or would he? Did he believe I cared so little for Luther that I would place a trivial meeting over coming to his aid?
Then again... had I given him any reason to think I wouldn’t?
THE NEXT TWO hours were torture.
Keeping my eyes on the members of House Ghislaine—and not on the open door that I kept hoping Luther might walk through at any moment—was an effort. As I smiled and offered bland platitudes, my mind invented explanations that grew
increasingly catastrophic. My fingers trembled with the need to put my arms around Teller and Lily and ensure they were
unharmed.
And Luther, too.
I cursed myself for allowing my own inner circle to be seated out of my line of sight. As often as I dared, I jumped from my chair to refill my goblet for the chance of a stolen glance. That, at least, offered some comfort. Alixe’s panic had faded to resignation, while Taran scowled, and Eleanor looked nearly as lost as I felt.
As she had predicted, the final House Reception was innocuous and forgettable. House Ghislaine offered the usual gushing praise, which Remis met with equal sycophantic energy. Not a word was spoken about the mortals or the half-mortals, much to my relief, and by the time House Ghislaine finally, finally, rose to leave, I had hardly uttered more than a handful of sentences.
Not a second passed after the last Ghislaine disappeared into the corridor before I wheeled toward Remis.
“What have you done? Where is Luther?”
Remis pulled his shoulders back. “This meeting is for the Crown Council and your advisors only. My son’s presence was
unnecessary.”
“Luther is on the Crown Council.”
“Not anymore.”
“He stripped Luther of his titles,” Taran muttered, joining me at my side.
I gaped at him, then at Remis. “You had no right. Those titles are mine to decide.”
“Not until you’re coronated,” Remis said coolly. “Until then, I decide who sits on the Council.” He smoothed down his doublet. “As I understand it, you declined to appoint my son as an advisor despite his best efforts, and you’ve refused his counsel for weeks. You should be grateful—our positions are now aligned.”
My fingers curled, furious breaths rumbling in my throat, though my loathing was largely self-imposed. Remis was, infuriatingly, correct. I had little ground to object to him doing what I had effectively done myself.
“Who holds Luther’s titles now?” I scoffed. “Let me guess, you?”
“Me.” Aemonn stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. “I had hoped to share the news with you myself earlier, if only you had deemed me worthy of your time.”
“Blessed fucking Kindred,” Taran spat. “Him? You’re going to make some sniveling courtier High General? He’s never even served a day in the Royal Guard.”
“Watch your tone, little brother,” Aemonn said. “That sniveling courtier is now in charge of where you’re assigned to serve. Both of you,” he added with a glance at Alixe. “I hear the western coast is quite dreary. Perhaps a few years in the swamps would do you both some good.”
Taran’s face flushed red with fury. My hand shot out to grab his in a silent plea to wait.
“And... Keeper of the Laws—you hold that title now, too?” I choked out.
Taran’s muscles went taut under my hand as he came to the same realization that had just turned my stomach.
Aemonn nodded, his expression tightening into something unreadable. He had once accused Luther of being a murderer for holding that title. Was it more of his scheming, or could he be trusted to stay the executions of the half-mortal children, as Luther had secretly done?
I turned my ire back to Remis. “Your vengeance is short-sighted. In two days’ time, either I’ll be coronated or Luther will be King, and now you’ve made an enemy of us both. I thought you were a smarter man than that.”
Remis’s expression tightened. He exchanged a glance with Garath, who looked nauseatingly pleased.
“My brother is simply doing what he must to keep our family safe,” Garath said. He looked me over, lips pursed. “We’ve seen what happens to those closest to you. You can hardly expect us to watch our own loved ones meet the same fate.”
His vicious words speared straight at my heart, my shoulders twitching inward as his cruelty struck with ruthless precision.
“Fuck you,” I whispered.
Garath’s smile grew wider. He put an arm on his brother’s and son’s backs and ushered them toward the door.
“This is wrong,” Eleanor shouted, storming up to her uncles and taking everyone in the room by surprise. “Diem is one of us now, and Luther has given his whole life to House Corbois. You two don’t care about our family at all—you only care about yourselves.”
Remis stared at her darkly, uncharacteristically quiet, while Garath chuckled. “Mind yourself, niece,” he chided. “The only reason you’re not scrubbing dishes in the kitchens is because of our generosity.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “I’d rather scrub dishes for the rest of my life than live under your rules ever again.”
“Very well.” Garath arched a brow at his son. “Aemonn, have the guards remove Eleanor’s things from the palace at once.
She can go live with the other Unhoused.”
Eleanor gasped, Aemonn stiffened, and Remis shook his head. He glared at me. “Do you see what you’ve done to our family? A thousand years of strength, and you’ve managed to tear us apart in weeks.”
I should have rejoiced. It was exactly what I’d set out to do—take down the Descended from within, starting with House
Corbois. I’d cast a rift in the most powerful family in Lumnos that might never be sealed again.
But the only people I’d succeeded in hurting were the ones aligned with me.
Taran put an arm around Eleanor’s shoulders and pulled her close. “In two days, Diem will win the Challenging, and the two of you won’t ever have power again.”
Garath shrugged, unbothered by his son’s threat. “We’ll see.” He flashed me a smile. “So much can happen in two days.”
