Chapter
Thirty-Seven
he others followed me in silence as I stalked through the palace to my chambers, where Teller and Lily were playing cardsT in the main parlor. They jumped to their feet at the sight of the four of us barreling in like a raging tornado.
Eleanor filled them in while Taran launched into a colorful tirade about the size of Aemonn’s genitals and what exactly he planned to do with them after my coronation.
Alixe took a step toward me. “This changes nothing for us, Your Majesty. We swore our oath to you, not Remis.”
I nodded in appreciation. “How bad is it? Can Aemonn really send you both away?”
“He can issue the orders, but we can delay leaving until the coronation.”
If there is a coronation, I thought glumly.
“But,” she sighed, “Aemonn might remove me as Vice General. If he does, I may not be able to keep the guards on your friends and family. They’re loyal to Luther, but they can’t disobey a direct order if they’re told to leave. Not without risking their own execution.”
“If Aemonn removes you, who would he choose as his second? Perhaps we can convince them to help us.”
“Iléana,” Alixe and Taran answered in unison.
I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense—Aemonn hates Iléana. He told me so himself.”
“Of course he did,” Taran spat, looking ready to put his fist through a stone wall. “Everything he says is a lie.”
“Aemonn and Iléana are very close,” Alixe explained with a sympathetic wince. “It was always a source of tension with Luther that the two of them were such good friends.”
I balked, instantly rethinking every conversation Aemonn and I had shared. “But... at the cousin’s dinner—”
“Aemonn invited her, did he tell you that?” Taran muttered. “He assigned the chairs so Luther had to sit beside her. They were working together to drive you two apart.”
Alixe nodded. The pity in her eyes made my cheeks burn hot for having been so gullible. Aemonn’s plotting had seemed selfish but harmless—I had never fathomed his closest ally was the woman who most wanted me dead.
And the doubt he had sown in me toward Luther... my cowering heart had needed a reason to justify running away, and I’d been all too willing to use Aemonn’s lies as an excuse.
A lump rose in my throat.
“We’ll resign from the Royal Guard, if we have to,” Taran said. “Even the Crown can’t force a Descended to serve against their will. The most Remis could do is banish us from House Corbois.”
“Like he just did to me,” Eleanor murmured, looking shellshocked and a little green. Lily took her hand and squeezed it.
“It’s only two days,” Alixe said emphatically. “Whatever their plans may be, we can survive them for that long.”
Two days.
My head began to throb.
Teller turned to me with a somber look. “Diem, you have to be coronated. If you aren’t—”
“I’m aware,” I snapped. He cocked his head, his eyes squinting in a way that I knew meant he was seeing more of me than I’d wanted to reveal. I turned back to Alixe and Taran. “Where is he?”
They shared a look, clearly knowing exactly who I meant.
“Lumnos City,” Alixe said after a long hesitation.
“Why?”
“For you,” Taran answered with a pointed stare. “To persuade the Houses not to Challenge you.”
I closed my eyes, forcing my legs to keep my body afloat as the world began to swirl around me.
“Diem,” Teller said again, his tone grave. “If you’re Challenged—”
“I said I’m aware,” I gritted out. “What about Eleanor?”
“I’ll have her things brought here,” Alixe said. “She can stay in your suite until the Challenging.”
“And if I lose the Challenging—that’s it? She’s really out of House Corbois?”
They all shared a heavy look.
“You can’t lose,” Teller insisted. “That’s all there is to it. You just have to win, or else—”
“I know!” I screamed. “By the Flames Teller, do you think I don’t spend every gods-damned second of every gods-damned day thinking about how many people will suffer if I fail, when failure is the only thing I seem to be capable of doing?”
Teller flinched, staggering back a step.
“Diem,” Eleanor said softly.
I rubbed my temples. “I’m sorry. I—I just... I need a moment.” I turned and fled into my bedchamber, slamming the door behind me.
I paced the length of my room, clenching my jaw as my heart thumped a frantic rhythm.
Two days left.
Two days.
For weeks, the burden on my shoulders had been growing—in size, in heft, in agony. At first, it had driven my momentum, pushing at my back to urge me forward, a reminder of everyone my success could help.
But with every interaction gone wrong, those rocks had grown into boulders, and those boulders had become mountains, steep and jagged and too deadly to scale, the sheer weight of them threatening to bury me alive.
What would happen if I failed? To Teller, to Lily—to all the people I was trying to protect? Would the mortals be kicked out of the realm? Would Henri throw his life away on a suicide Guardians mission? Would my Corbois friends be forever ruined for the crime of thirty days of loyalty to me?
Or would they all forget me? Perhaps that would be the kinder fate, for my tiny reign to be utterly meaningless in the end.
Or perhaps I would become a cautionary tale, a warning to all future Crowns of the grisly end they might meet if they dared to care for mortals, too.
Had I done any good? Or had I just made everything so much worse?
Suddenly, the walls of my bedchamber felt too narrow, inching closer with every panicked breath.
I looked to Sorae’s perch, my gryvern pacing in time with my own agitated steps, when a metallic glint caught at the edge of my vision. The gifts from the ball had been laid out on my vanity, and at the center lay a small gold disc.
I walked over and picked up the compass from Meros. A red arrow whirred beneath the glass dome, searching for the thing my heart most desired. I waited and waited for an answer, but the arrow continued its endless quest, spinning wildly without
pause.
Because... what did I want?
Did I even want to survive the Challenging? If the weight of the Crown was too heavy now, how much worse would it be when I wielded it in full?
Or did I want to run away? I could take Teller, hop on Sorae’s back and disappear to some far-flung corner of Emarion. It would be the coward’s way out, but at least my brother would be safe, something I could never guarantee as Queen.
And what about my heart? I’d been chasing one man and running from another, agonizing over promises and secrets, loyalties and expectations. I knew who scared me, who excited me, who gave me dread and who gave me hope, but one question I hadn’t yet answered: who did I want?
The compass shifted in my palm as the arrow clicked to a sudden halt.
My feet followed the red line of the compass across my chamber, outside to Sorae’s perch, and to the edge of the palace walls. Whoever or whatever I desired, it apparently wasn’t here.
I ran inside and threw the Montios cloak across my shoulders to guard against the biting wind, then returned to Sorae’s side. Her amber eyes took in the compass clutched in my palm, then gazed out into the distance as her feathered wings spread wide.
I threw my leg across her back, and we launched skyward. I cringed, knowing Taran would be furious at me for leaving— but some innate sense told me this was something I needed to face alone.
Whatever magic allowed the compass to see into my heart with such clarity, Sorae must have shared it, because with each of her dips and turns, the compass’s aim remained constant. Within moments, the glittering palace was behind us, and the drab grey mud of Mortal City loomed in the distance. My heart stuttered at the sight.
Henri, I realized. The compass must be taking me to Henri.
An unexpected panic gripped me, and I had to fight the urge to turn around and fly back. I hadn’t spoken to him since he and Vance had fled from me two weeks ago.
At first, I’d been grateful for the time to focus on matters at the palace, but as the Challenging grew nearer, the silence between us had become increasingly... noisy.
Sorae flew closer, and I held my breath. What would I say? What truth would he see in my eyes, if he really looked?
But as we approached the center of Mortal City, where Henri’s home awaited, Sorae banked, turning toward the coast.
In the distance, I could just make out the faint dark line of Coeurîle, the verdant island in the center of the Sacred Sea. I knew little about it, other than it was forbidden to all but the Crowns, but as I gazed on it, I felt a sudden tugging in my chest—a crooning siren song, demanding I cross the glittering cerulean waves and set my foot on its moss-covered banks.
Come, Daughter of the Forgotten.
I gasped aloud. I hadn’t heard the voice since my father’s death, and I’d never heard it tell me to come anywhere. For weeks, I’d listened for it, even begged for it. It had abandoned me—until now.
Before I could question the beckoning or give in to its summons, Sorae’s path shifted again, and she dove for the ground. It took only a moment to realize where we were as her clawed feet touched the soil and brought me to a gentle stop.
Before me was a broad, blackened patch of earth—the place where my family’s home had once stood.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured as I slid off Sorae’s back. “There’s no one here.”
My insides twisted into knots. I peered down at the compass in my palm. Its scarlet arrow was quivering and pointing in the direction of the dark crater left by my implosion of power. As I approached the edge, two discoveries had me freezing in place.
First, the ground under the remains of my home had changed. At the funeral, the entire circle had been crusted with a hard layer of glittering onyx rock, but every last pebble of the strange stone had disappeared, leaving only the peaty soil beneath.
Second, speared into the grass just outside the crater’s rim was a sword whose jeweled handle I knew by heart. Luther’s sword—the Sword of Corbois.
I ran my fingers along the edge of the gilded hilt. I had never seen Luther without it. To see it abandoned here, especially after he had pulled it on his father to defend me...
Dark, terrifying scenarios filled my head—but there was no blood on the blade, no sign of recent use. And given how possessive Remis had acted toward the heirloom, I doubted he would leave it here, even to send a message.
Some unexplainable intuition told me Luther had left it behind of his own free will. What I couldn’t understand was why.
I looked back at the compass, whose arrow still trembled with such force I worried it might crack the glass. It pointed over the charred earth to the trees beyond.
I carefully stepped over the lip of the deep basin and made my way across, squinting through the dusky light.
My heart skipped a beat. What if the compass had led me to some evidence of my father’s murderer? My spontaneous combustion had destroyed the crime scene and any clues along with it. I had spent several afternoons wandering around the area, searching for anything that might give me a hint of the killer’s identity. Whoever they were, they’d hidden their tracks
well.
And I had unwittingly helped.
But if there was something I’d missed... revenge was certainly high on the list of things I desired most.
My pace quickened, excitement and apprehension rising in unison. I crossed the center of the crater, and the compass grew hot in my hand. When I looked at it again, the red arrow had vanished, and the dial was lit up with a blinding glow.
I scanned the soil, then the surrounding land. What could possibly be here that was the object of my heart’s greatest desire?
Then it hit me.
And it broke me.
My father.
My family, together again.
My home—the safe, joy-filled bubble of my childhood.
The one thing I desired most was the one thing I could never, ever have again.
A dam gave way, and weeks of pent-up sorrow unleashed on my body. All the heartbreak I had been clutching tight and fighting to restrain, the life and loves I’d lost forever—all of it tore from my soul with a gut-wrenching sob.
I crumpled to the ground as surely as if the burden I carried took physical form. I cried for myself, and all that I had lost, but mostly I cried for everyone who had, or would soon, suffer for my failure.
For my family and my Corbois friends, whose lives I’d put in danger. For the half-mortal children, who had lost their savior because of his loyalty to me. For all the mortal families who would be torn apart when the Twenty Houses got their way.
I cried for every person who had prayed for a spark of hope in this dreary, oppressive world, and the endless dark they’d found in return.
I cried until the setting sun and the rising moon passed like wind-blown ships, and when my tears had again run dry, I took a wobbling breath and pulled myself to my knees.
“I’m so sorry, Father,” I said in a trembling, broken voice.
I looked at the soil, wincing at the memory of the cold stiffness of my father’s body as I clutched him in my arms.
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this. Everyone is counting on me, and I’m going to fail them, just like I failed you.”
I leaned forward and dug my fingers into the damp earth, wishing I could bury myself deep and sleep for a thousand years.
“The darkness is closing in,” I whispered, “and I don’t have the strength to find the light.”
“Then make your own.”
The voice startled me upright. I twisted around to see my brother standing behind me, hands shoved into his pockets.
Across the clearing, Alixe and a very angry-looking Taran stood guard at the forest’s edge.
“You’ve got all that fancy Descended magic,” Teller said. “Maybe it’s time to stop looking for the light and start making it
yourself.”
I shook my head sadly. “I don’t know how. And every time I try, I end up making things worse.”
“Then keep trying. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, pick yourself back up, and try again. And don’t stop until you figure it out. That’s what the Diem Bellator I know would do.”
He sat down beside me and leaned back on his hands, and together we stared at the site of our childhood home and the ashes of everything we once loved. I could almost hear the echo of our laughter as we cooked and cleaned, played and sparred, the sounds taunting me as much as they comforted me.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Teller said. “With all the battles he fought, everything he survived... it always seemed like he would find a way to evade death somehow.”
I nodded, too battered to find words.
“Do you think he can see us?” he asked. “Do you think wherever he is, he’s still watching us?”
My chin sank low. “I hope not.”
Teller let out a long sigh and moved closer, pulling me into his side. “You stopped fighting, D. You gave up.”
I tried to yank away, but he held me firm. “How can you say that?” I shot back. “All I’ve been doing for weeks is fighting.”
“You’ve certainly been swinging your fists around everywhere you go, but you haven’t been fighting. You’re going through the motions and biding your time until someone takes pity on you and strikes a killing blow. You’ve lost that spirit that makes you... you.”
He wrapped me tighter and squeezed my shoulder until I brought my eyes to his.
“What was Father’s most important lesson?” he prodded. “The one he reminded us of every time we sparred?”
“Survive,” I said hoarsely.
Teller nodded as he recited our father’s teachings. “Survive. At whatever cost, to whatever end. Survive first—”
“—mind the consequences later,” I finished.
I looked ahead at the scorched soil, remembering the last time my father and I sparred together and the words he left me with.
I cannot tell you what to do with your life, my darling Diem. But whatever you choose—be smart. And above all, survive. Your life is far too precious to me to be wasted.
“I’m scared, Teller,” I confessed, my voice finding a small measure of strength at finally admitting the truth. “I’m so fucking scared.”
“I am, too. The thought of losing you...” Teller’s voice wavered, and I leaned against his shoulder.
“Do you think Father ever felt like this before his battles?” I asked. “Do you think he ever ran away and cried in a big pile of dirt?”
Teller smirked. “He did worse than that. At the funeral, one of his friends told me he got so sick before his first battle he threw up all over his new combat uniform. His battalion made him roll around in the mud to cover up the smell.”
A real laugh burst out of me, catching me by surprise. “If he’d ever told me that story, I would have teased him about it for weeks.”
“That’s probably why he never told you.” Teller’s smile softened as his expression turned thoughtful. “I once asked him what was the worst battle he ever fought. He said it was his first one as a commander—not because of how it ended, but because it was the first time all the lives on the battlefield were his responsibility. He felt like every death fell on his shoulders.”
“That’s how I feel. It’s not dying I fear. It’s everything else—all the people who are counting on me. I’m scared of letting
them down.”
“Then fight.”
I nodded resignedly. “I’ll try.”
“No.” Teller clamped a hand to the back of my neck, forcing my face to his. “Fight, D. Fight with that fire I know you have in you. Fight like you’re pissed off they dared to even consider opposing you.” He touched his forehead to mine. “Fight like a gods-damned Bellator.”
Somewhere, in the darkness, a flame flickered to life.
“I’ve seen you spar with men three times your size who have decades of training on you. You’ve taken on entire groups on your own. Luther is the most terrifying person I’ve ever met, and you fight with him like he’s some annoying fly.”
Another laugh bubbled up between sniffles. “I do seem to have a habit of getting myself into fights I’m vastly outmatched for.”
“A habit?” Teller snorted. “You practically survive off it.”
I playfully shoved his side, though my smile faltered. “What if I took it too far this time?”
He frowned pensively. “Did you do it for the right reasons?”
I thought of all the people I was fighting to protect, and the flame in my heart grew a little brighter.
“Yes.”
“Do the people you’re confronting deserve it?”
“Gods, yes.”
“Then stop second-guessing yourself. I know you can do this. We all do. You’re a Queen, and more importantly, you’re the daughter of Andrei Bellator—so go fight like it.”
I closed my eyes and let his words rush into me. Like a gentle wind blown on a glowing ember, the spirit inside me sparked and roared to life. I let it burn, cleansing away my doubt, my guilt, my fear. I would never be completely free of those things, but I could stop letting them rule me. I could give it my best and pray that was enough.
Even if it wasn’t, at least I’d go to my grave knowing I gave it my all.
Because in this world of injustice and cruelty, where innocents died every day while people in power turned a blind eye and hid in the comfort of their privilege, doing something and failing was better than doing nothing at all.
So I would try.
I would fight.
And Kindred be damned, I would show this realm what it meant to mess with a Bellator.
I reached down and took a fist full of soil, then tucked it into a pouch at my waist. I might never be able to go home again, but I could bring home with me. I could carry in my heart all the love, all my parents’ lessons, and everything this home represented—and nothing could ever take that away.
“Are you sure you’re ready for Queen Diem?” I teased. “I have a feeling my enemies won’t end with the Twenty Houses of Lumnos.”
Teller went full-on little brother, rolling his eyes with a dramatic huff. “Someone has to keep your ego in check. I suppose it
might as well be me.”
I smiled and held out my hand. “Ready?”
“I’m ready, Your Majesty.” He smirked as our palms clasped together with a menacing clap. “Let’s fight.”
I STOOD on the perch outside my bedchamber, watching the moon’s silvery light spill across the first frost of the season, turning the palace grounds into a shimmering quilt.
Sorae was seated beside me. Her feathered wing curled around my body to tuck me close as I scratched the leathery patch of flesh at her chin. Her eyes closed, and a happy rumble rolled from her throat. Because of the bond that connected our emotions, no one had felt the brunt of my dour mood these past weeks more than Sorae—and no one seemed more relieved that I’d finally let it go.
I looked down at the ledge in front of me, where a small golden orb sat on a pillow of pink satin. For the last hour, I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at me for weeks. It was an answer I both desperately wanted to know and deeply feared receiving.
Sorae nipped at the corner of the pillow, causing the gilded sphere to jostle free and roll across the balustrade. I lunged to grab it before it tumbled over the edge, but when I went to set it back in place, Sorae tugged the cushion fully out of my reach.
“Sorae!” I protested. She snorted in response, the pillow still dangling from her teeth. I reached to snatch it from her, and she whipped it away and tossed it clear across the balcony.
“It’s the middle of the night Sorae, I’m not playing fetch with you. Wait—are you trying to play fetch with me?”
She blew a puff of smoke through her nostrils that sounded eerily like a laugh. Before I could retrieve the pillow like a good little trained pet, she leaned her head down and nudged my hand with her snout.
I held out my palm, frowning down at the orb. “You think I should ask?”
Two amber eyes blinked slowly in response.
“What if it says no?” I said, my voice growing weak.
To that, Sorae didn’t respond, but the pulse of affection across our bond told me what I needed to know. That she would be here with me, by my side, whatever the answer.
I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. Just as it had been on the night of the ball, the strange object felt unnervingly alive, hot to the touch and vibrating with energy. A force beneath my skin stirred, as if whatever magic lived inside the sphere was whispering a secret to whatever magic lived inside of me.
“Orb of Answering, here is my first question.” I hesitated and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Is my mother still alive?”
There was a tickling against my skin as the rough etchings on the ball’s surface began to move. The intricate patterns shifted and wove into symbols I didn’t recognize, then words in languages I didn’t know, until finally one clear word appeared on the
orb’s smooth golden face.
Yes.
A joyful sob broke from my lips, followed by uncontrollable laughter that sang of relief and hope.
Alive—my mother was alive!
I clasped the orb to my chest, grinning and laughing, happy tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. After all this time, all this uncertainty—Auralie Bellator was alive.
And I would see her again.
All I had to do was survive the Challenging. Then, in a few weeks’ time, Luther would go to her. I would make him take me along—maybe Teller, too. We would find her and bring her home, and we would grieve my father’s loss all over again, but at least we would do it together.
I threw my arms around Sorae’s scale-covered neck and hugged her tightly, drawing another of her pleased trills. I wanted to run inside and do the same to Teller, but he was fast asleep, and that would provoke a much deeper conversation about Luther and our mother that now was not the time to begin.
Soon, though. I’d been a hypocrite in keeping secrets to protect him after I had been so angry when the same was done to me. Teller deserved the truth, and he would get it... after the Challenging. From me—or, worst case, from Luther.
I gave another happy sigh and laid a kiss on Sorae’s snout, then turned back to my bedchamber. Just as I passed through the archway leading to my rooms, an idea pierced my thoughts.
I paused, holding the golden sphere up to my face, the moon’s reflection gleaming bright along its surface.
“Orb of Answering,” I said slowly, “here is my second question. The man who sired me... my birth father... is he still alive?”
Again, the etchings set into motion, scribbling and scrawling all manner of ancient symbols. It seemed to take longer this time, the answer more buried in its infinite and impossible knowledge.
And then, as before, a single word took shape.
And my heart stopped in my chest.
Yes.
