Chapter
Forty-Two
he royal box was in chaos.T Lily was screaming, weeping. Luther knelt in front of her with her hands in his, whispering something in her ear that was only making her sob even harder.
Eleanor and Alixe stared at each other in wordless shock. Remis was holding his wrist and gaping, eyes wide with panic, Garath gesturing wildly at his side.
Taran was the only one who did not look surprised. He watched Luther and slowly hung his head in what looked like sadness—or perhaps disappointment.
Around me, the arena exploded in frenzied excitement. No Crown had ever received a Challenge from their own House.
For it to happen to me now, after being Challenged by every House—and by the man who had just kissed me to claim me as his...
If they had come here for entertainment, they were certainly receiving it.
I was so frozen in disbelief that I didn’t notice Teller running to my side until he shook me to get my attention.
“D—what’s going on? Did you two plan this?”
I shook my head numbly, eyes still fixed on the royal box. Lily clutched Luther, weeping against his overcoat, while he and Taran had a heated conversation. Taran’s expression had shifted to red-faced fury, and he jabbed a finger in my direction while shouting words at his cousin I couldn’t make out.
“Diem,” Teller hissed again. My gaze sluggishly dragged to his, the world moving too slowly around me.
He looked terrified. Lost.
Some still-functioning part of my brain told me to comfort him, but what could I say? What words could possibly ease this horror?
“I’ll have to fight him,” I mumbled in a daze. “Remis has to choose the most powerful Challenger. That’s Luther. I... I have
to fight Luther.”
And one of us has to die.
“You can’t. Talk to Remis, there has to be another way.”
My attention shifted back to House Corbois. Luther stood preternaturally still as Remis screamed at him while his wife struggled to hold him back. A cold, cruel smile rose to Luther’s lips at his father’s rage.
“He betrayed me,” I breathed. “Luther wanted revenge on his father. He’s using me to get it.”
I didn’t quite believe the words, even as they came out of my own mouth.
I glanced down at my wrist, still aching with the phantom pain of the bonded bargain snapping apart. “My agreement with
Remis is broken. His magic is gone.”
Teller swore under his breath.
Remis commanded the Challengers to line up across the arena floor, then shoved past his son to storm down the staircase, his eyes murky with ire.
A wet-cheeked Eleanor stepped forward to hold Lily back as Luther pried her arms from his waist. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then turned toward the stairs. He refused to look at me and face the choice he had made, this ultimate betrayal.
His clouded eyes stared vaguely ahead, focused on some destination only he could see.
“Did you tell him?” Remis demanded, stomping up to me. “Did he know I would lose my magic if he Challenged you?”
The stupefied look on my face gave me away.
“You idiot,” he shouted. “You foolish, stupid brat! Did I not warn you this would happen?”
I blinked and shook my head. “I never thought... h-he...”
“This is your fault. I upheld my part of the bargain. Why should I be held accountable when you were the imbecile who told him?”
“Stop insulting her,” Teller snapped. “You’re the one who made a bargain you couldn’t keep.”
My heart would have filled with pride if it hadn’t been busy doing other things, like pounding hard enough to rattle the
arena or smashing into a fine cloud of dust.
“What if you convince him to take it back?” Teller offered, looking at me. “If he rescinds his Challenge, maybe it will restore the bargain.”
“A Challenge can’t be withdrawn once given,” Remis argued, though the calculating look on his face said he was considering it. “The other Houses will never accept it. They’ll say I broke the rules to help you.”
“So you would choose your pride over your magic?” Teller asked with brows raised, showing no hint of intimidation as Remis glowered in response.
My brother had always been the most reserved member of our family, cool-headed and cautious to a fault, but it was moments like these that reminded me he was still a fearless Bellator at heart.
While Remis and Teller continued to argue, my focus shifted. Luther had stepped onto the arena floor to take his place in the long line of Challengers.
My feet carried me toward him before I even knew what I planned to say. Though his eyes stayed fixed beyond me, he stiffened as I approached.
I shoved him, forcing him to stagger back and slam into the stone barrier. “You fucking betrayed me!”
His shoulders drew back, his jaw clamping tight. Still refusing to meet my glare, he set off to my left to divert around me.
So I sucker-punched him.
The crowd went wild. Luther froze as his head jerked sideways. Almost instantly, his face snapped back to mine, his
expression dark and enraged.
“How could you?” I hissed.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Jean Hanoverre mocked, sauntering past us. “Better save it for the match. I hope your magic is a lot
stronger than that right hook.”
So I sucker-punched him, too.
I clocked him right in his smug, smirking, pretentious little face, sending his obnoxiously coiffed hair flying as he tumbled onto his ass in the sand.
I spat at his feet. “Now when I fight you, you can compare them for yourself.”
The audience was a cacophony of gasps, laughter, and mutters of disapproval. It was the latter I loathed the most—the ones who bestowed haughty judgment from their lives of irrelevancy as I clawed for my own survival.
At least I was trying. At least I was fighting.
I turned back to Luther, only to see him stalking off to join my other would-be executioners.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I shouted at him. “Did your promises mean nothing after all?”
He stilled, then whipped back around to face me, fury blazing in his eyes.
Before he could speak, Remis darted between us and seized his arm. “Son, listen to me. You have to take your Challenge
back.”
“I will not,” Luther ground out.
“I’ll restore all your titles. I’ll never oppose you again. All the things you’ve asked me for over the years, whatever you want—name it, and it’s yours.”
“Save your breath, Father. There is nothing I desire more than this.”
“Luther, be reasonable. I can help you protect her. There must be something I can do—”
“Can you give me a Crown?” Luther snarled. “I’m meant to be King, and she is standing in my way. I’ve been waiting for this moment for thirty days. I will not risk another Challenger failing and keeping me from my throne now.” His eyes sharpened on his father. “Taking your magic in the process is just a happy surprise.”
What little was left of my heart plummeted through me, scattering in pieces on the sandy ground. Beneath my fury, I had held on to a thread of hope my accusations were wrong. I knew Luther had spent a lifetime honing his skills at hiding his true feelings away, and I’d prayed this was all another mask, another lie—but as I scoured that face I had once read as easily as an old favorite book, the only emotion I found was ruthless resolve.
Remis fell back a step, looking equally stunned. “But... I—I thought you were...” He stared at me, then back at his son.
“You’re not doing this for her?”
Luther tensed, then ripped his arm free. “I’m doing this for the realm. I’m giving them the Crown they need.” Muscles feathered on his jaw. “Me.”
He walked away, leaving me shattered and Remis speechless. We exchanged a bleak look, each of us devastated for very different reasons.
“They’re going to kill me,” Remis choked out. “All the people I’ve angered over the years—when they discover I’ve lost my magic...” He swallowed hard. “I’m as good as dead.”
I had no sympathy to spare, at least not for him, not when my own death was so crushingly imminent, but as I stared at this man who looked as if he had nothing left to lose, an idea began to grow.
“I propose we make another deal,” I said slowly.
He scowled. “I can’t make a bonded bargain without magic.”
“Not a bonded bargain—just an agreement. You trust me, and I’ll trust you.”
His upper lip curled like I’d just asked him to sprout a tail and slither away. But he didn’t say no.
“Let Eleanor back in the family, and promise me you’ll take care of my brother. Use the guards, your connections, whatever it takes to keep him safe. Promise me that, and if I survive, I won’t say a word about our bargain. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it.
No one will have to know your magic is gone.”
His expression turned guarded as he looked me over. “You’re going to try to kill my son?”
“No.” My eyes briefly closed. I let out a shaky breath. “You’re going to let me choose my Challenger.”
Remis didn’t answer at first. He studied me, brows furrowed, lips tightly pressed. “If you don’t fight Luther, they’ll declare the Challenging void. Even if you win, they’ll say it doesn’t count.”
“Then I’ll have to make my victory extremely convincing.”
“If Luther wants the Crown, he’ll kill you the moment the Challenging ends.” His tone was oddly light, almost curious.
“You’re sure you don’t want to fight him now and eliminate that risk?”
I clenched my jaw. “Do we have a deal or not?”
He gave me another slow, assessing once-over, then fished a small device from his pocket and raised it to his lips. As he spoke, his voice echoed throughout the stands.
“Citizens of Lumnos, as you have seen, this is a historic Challenging unlike any before.” I shot him an irritated look. He ignored me and continued. “As Regent, it falls to me to determine the strongest from among the Challengers. Well, an unprecedented event calls for an unequally unprecedented response.” He swept his hand in a broad arc across the line of Challengers, then to me. “I defer my selection to the Unchallenged Queen. Let her prove her worthiness as much by her choice of opponent as by her victory.”
Shouts of protest immediately erupted, but none more vehemently than from the Challengers themselves. A few bolted forward to argue with Remis, but more curiously, a number of them gathered around Jean Hanoverre.
“This is not what we agreed to,” one of them shouted at him.
“You said you would be fighting her, not us,” another said. “You need to fix this.”
“If we had known she could choose us, we never would have—”
“What’s going on?” I cut in.
Several faces turned to me with mixed levels of panic. Even Jean seemed to have a shadow of uncertainty over his cocky demeanor.
“Your Majesty,” one of them began, “forgive us, we were tricked. House Hanoverre, they said—”
“Silence,” Jean snarled at the sniveling man.
“No, I’d like to hear this,” I said.
“House Hanoverre told us all the Houses had to act as one,” the man blurted out. “They said if everyone raised a Challenge, House Corbois wouldn’t punish any of us.”
“It was his idea,” another Challenger insisted. “Punish him, not us!”
Several of the others shouted their agreement.
I focused my glare on Jean. “House Hanoverre isn’t brave enough to stand on its own?”
He glowered. “I’m no coward. Choose me to fight. Unless you aren’t brave enough.”
“You aren’t the most powerful, Jean,” a low voice cut in from behind me. “It’s my right to fight her.”
I didn’t need to look to know who that voice belonged to.
A firm hand clamped on my shoulder and forced me to turn. “You will choose me.”
Luther’s menacing expression was unlike any I’d ever seen. His eyes were their own kind of weapons, tipped with poison and aimed to kill. His features were honed to a brutal razor’s edge, radiating a malice that had my breath catching.
There was no trace of the loyal man I thought I’d known. There was not even the frosty indifference of the Prince.
This was Luther the warrior. Luther the executioner.
“The most powerful Challenger must be chosen. Those are the rules.”
I smiled icily. “Following rules never was my strong suit.”
He yanked me closer, his voice dropping to a hush. “If you don’t fight me, they’ll never accept you as Queen.”
“If you hadn’t noticed, they already don’t accept me.”
He didn’t react, his face revealing nothing.
An explosive silence fell between us, the air thick with violent threat.
“Was any of it real?”
I had intended it to be an accusation—a bitter condemnation of every lie and faked emotion.
Instead, it came out heartbroken.
His brows drew in, low and tight. “War is coming. Thousands of lives are at risk, and the realm needs a strong ruler. If you can’t use your magic—”
“Then I deserve to die?” I whispered.
Veins rose on his throat as he let me go and looked away. “You will choose me,” he rumbled. “End of discussion.”
I forced myself to scrounge my composure back together, falling back on old habits as I channeled all my hurt into a molten, destructive fury. These people didn’t deserve my weakness—they deserved my wrath.
“I’ll choose whoever I want,” I bit back. “I don’t answer to you, Prince. I’m the fucking Queen.”
For a heartbeat, something familiar flashed in his eyes—something that looked a hell of a lot like pride—smothered in an instant by a callous glare. I spun on my heel before he could get in any more jabs and returned to Remis’s side, quickly joined by Teller. My gaze traveled back and forth across the Challengers.
“Choose the weakest one,” Teller said firmly. “Get through this alive. We can figure the rest out another day.”
Survive. At whatever cost, to whatever end.
Our father’s keystone lesson.
Remis began to fire off a list of the weakest Challengers including, notably, several of the people who had been arguing with Jean Hanoverre. He offered insight into their power and their vulnerabilities, giving a step-by-step guide for exactly how to defeat them.
Teller nodded emphatically and offered his own shrewd perspective—which of the Houses were the least influential, which ones I could most afford to make enemies of. Even Remis seemed impressed as he gave my brother a wary side-eye.
All the while, I could not tear my gaze from Luther. Searching his face. Looking for the truth.
“Which ones are the strongest?” I asked.
“Diem,” Teller warned slowly.
“Other than Luther?” Remis said.
I briefly closed my eyes, then nodded. “Other than Luther.”
“Jean Hanoverre, or perhaps Roderyck Byrnum, or—”
“Please don’t do this,” Teller begged.
“What about Rhon Ghislaine?” I asked.
Remis frowned. “His magic is quite strong, but defeating him would impress no one. They would say you targeted House Ghislaine because it’s the lowest ranked. It would be the worst possible choice—all the consequences of someone weak without the benefit of an easy win.”
I looked up to the sky, squinting against the bright sun. “If this is how you Kindred show your sense of humor, your jokes could seriously use some work.”
“No,” Teller pleaded. “Choose anyone else.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face and sighed. “He killed a mother and child in Mortal City, Tel. I witnessed it myself.”
Teller hung his head. His shoulders sagged.
He knew me too well—my path was set.
If my worthiness was to be judged by my choice of opponent, then let this decision be a reflection of my soul. I would not kill the weak merely because it was easy, nor kill the cruel because it was gratifying.
I would kill only the guilty—and only when justice allowed for nothing less.
The Descended might never know my true reasoning, but so be it. They had already deemed me unworthy. I would hold myself to a higher standard.
I raised my voice to the crowd. “I, Diem Corbois, Queen of Lumnos, choose Rhon Ghislaine as my Challenger.”
I took Teller’s hand and dragged him toward the tent that had been set up for my preparation. Remis’s voice thundered around us, repeating my decision to the arena, followed quickly by a fresh wave of booing and indignant protests.
I nearly slammed into Luther’s chest as he stepped into my path.
“Go back. Tell my father you choose me.” He was panting for breath, his face haunted and wild. “The crowd will accept it —they’ll prefer it. They want to see us fight.”
“My decision is made.”
“Diem, please—”
“Don’t call me that,” I clipped and moved to route around him.
He stepped in front of my brother, his tone turning frantic. “Convince her, Teller. You have to make her change her mind.”
Teller squinted at Luther, studying him with a puzzled look. Suddenly his eyes went wide, some inner light clicking to life, and Luther nodded silently.
“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered. I yanked my brother toward the tent, ignoring the shouts that followed. Once we’d ducked beneath the canvas flap, momentarily shielded from prying eyes, I spun on my heel.
“Why didn’t you choose him?” Teller said before I could speak.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to tell you some things, and I don’t have long.”
“Diem, I think Luther is trying to—”
“There’s a box in my nightstand drawer containing a letter. If I die, read that letter and guard it with your life. Don’t share
its contents with anyone else, not even Lily.”
“D, listen, I really think Luth—”
“No one, Teller. Understood?”
He frowned but nodded, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Last night, in a hastily scrawled note, I had laid out everything —all the secrets about our mother and Luther, even my birth father. What I’d seen at the site of our father’s murder. The Guardians’ plans. A warning about Sophos. Where I’d hidden a secret stash of gold for him to start a new life abroad.
“Maura will take you in,” I continued. “If it’s not safe in Lumnos—”
“Stop talking like you’re going to die. You swore to fight, D.”
“I will fight, but I need you to hear this.” I clutched his face, wincing at the emotion that thickened my throat. “Don’t give up on Lily, Tel. This world is full of reasons to quit or run away. If you find something that brings you joy, hold on to it with everything you’ve got.”
He nodded, silvery tears beginning to line his eyes.
“And if you two are together, and she becomes pregnant...” I managed a faint smile at the blush on his cheeks. “Go to Luther first. Don’t run, don’t do anything irreversible. He’ll know what to do. I know he turned on me today—”
“Actually, I don’t think—”
“Just do it, alright? I still trust him on this.”
His eyebrows knit together with a host of unspoken questions.
“Promise me, Teller.”
“I promise.”
I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder and cherishing this final, precious moment with the one person who had been by my side through everything. The person whose loyalty I would never doubt, whose love for me was always pure.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I am so proud of the man that you are.”
He gripped me hard, his shoulders quietly shaking.
“My brilliant little brother, you are going to do such great things...” I fell silent as my voice broke and tears slipped in rivers down my cheeks.
“So are you, Diem. This can’t be the end.”
I nodded and gently pushed him away. “Go.” He hesitated, and I forced out a sniffling laugh. “Go. I can’t very well intimidate anyone if I walk out there looking weepy.”
With one last look, he closed his eyes, dipped his head, and walked away.
I stood in the tent alone, swiping at my face in a losing fight against my emotions. My hands began to tremble with the reality of what I was about to face.
If it were any other kind of fight—if I could use weapons, or even just my fists. I could be fast, I could be scrappy. I could even be clever, when it came to warfare. I could endure. Why was this the one thing I couldn’t do?
I scowled at the pitched ceiling of the tent, imagining the goddess Lumnos looking down in delight at the chaos she’d created.
“You couldn’t have given me one break?” I shouted.
The sound of rustling fabric announced someone’s entry into the tent. Remis, I suspected, ready to start the match. I took a deep, slow breath.
But when I turned, it wasn’t the Regent who stood before me with jeweled sword in hand and a glare that promised murder.
My heart stopped.
I lunged for the tent’s entrance. Luther moved fast, catching me by the waist. He hauled my back against his chest and raised the Sword of Corbois to my throat.
I thrashed against him, clawing uselessly at his steel-strong skin and jamming my elbows into his ribs. He gave a few muffled grunts, but his grip refused to loosen.
His voice rumbled in my ear like a coming storm. “Change your decision, or I’ll kill you now.”
“Then kill me,” I gritted through my teeth. “If it’s so important to you, go on and get it over with.”
I flinched as the blade pressed deeper.
“I’m giving you the chance to fight for your life.”
“Why does it matter?” I shot back. “I’ll be dead either way.”
He spun me around and slammed my back against the tent’s large center pole, one hand gripping me hard by the throat while the point of his sword wedged beneath my jaw. With his broad form curling around me to pin me in and his pale eyes besieged with a torrent of thrashing shadows, he looked like a mighty angel of death, come to lay judgment on my soul.
His teeth bared in a snarl. “Change your decision.”
“No.”
“Do it.”
“No.”
“Why do you refuse to fight me?”
My defiance slipped, and my eyes broke away.
“Tell me,” he roared, fingers squeezing around my throat.
“Because it wasn’t a lie for me!”
Hot tears sprang up anew. I let my head drop back against the pole, shutting my eyes in shame.
“I can’t fight you, Luther. The thought of killing you...” I let out a shaky, defeated sigh. “I care about you too much. Even if you don’t feel the same.”
His grip on my neck loosened. I heard the sound of a sword clattering on the floor, then felt a soft forehead press against my own. His warm breath heated my lips as his body slumped against mine.
“Choose me anyway.”
When I looked at him again, his fury had vanished. His shoulders sagged, his sharp features melting into anguish. He looked exhausted and utterly, desperately broken.
“You won’t have to do anything. I’ll handle it myself. I can make the magic look like it came from you.”
Then I understood. Luther never wanted to fight me.
He wanted to lose to me.
He sank to his knees. His head drooped, his hands wrapping around the backs of my thighs.
“Let me do this for you,” he begged. “I could hope for no greater death than this.”
Splinter by splinter, my broken heart began to rebuild.
I knelt in front of him and cupped his jaw in my hands. Tenderly, I ran my fingers across the lines of his face, tracing his furrowed brow and the rippled skin of his beautiful scar.
His hands slid to my ribs and pulled me against him. “Your face...” His haunted gaze traveled across my features, lost in the memory. “You looked at me like you were saying goodbye.”
I had been giving up. It was only his Challenge that had refueled my anger and rekindled my fighting spirit. I almost laughed at the irony. He had indeed saved me—just not in the way he planned.
“I should have known,” I said, wincing. So many times I had doubted him, and each time, he had proven me wrong in
spectacular fashion.
Never again.
Perhaps it was a vow I wouldn’t live long enough to keep, but if I did, I would never again doubt his loyalty. Though I would never feel worthy of it, of him, I could at least honor him by accepting it, once and for all.
“Luther,” I said slowly, placing my hand over his heart. “If I don’t survive—”
“No,” he growled.
“You will make a fine King. These people trust you. If you urge them toward peace, perhaps they will listen.”
“You are meant to lead us. I’ve seen it, the Blessed Mother showed me—”
“I don’t put my faith in gods and goddesses.” I smiled sadly. “But I do put it in you. You were born to be King.”
“Not without you. You are my Queen. The realm needs you. The mortals need you. Teller, Lily, Eleanor—they all need you.” His arms locked around me like he was bracing to stop fate from snatching me out of his grasp. “I need you, Diem.”
Deep within my heart, a long-overdue decision was finally put to rest. One door opened—the other locked forever.
“You have me, Luther,” I vowed. “All of me.”
I leaned back to let him see the full depth of that truth in my eyes. No more masks, no more armor—just brutal, bleeding honesty. My heart had been battered by grief and self-doubt, more mistakes than I could count, and regrets that might haunt me forever. It was an imperfect, wounded thing, covered in flaws, but it was strong. And it beat for him—the man who had walked beside me in the hopeless dark and burned for me in the fiery light.
I took his hand and set it over the scar on my collarbone, then laid my palm on the jagged line that slashed his cheek. I leaned in until my lips brushed his.
“I am yours, Luther Corbois. Scars and all.”
This time, there was no mistaking that I kissed him. It wasn’t the bloody lust of our first kiss, nor the sweet tenderness of our second. This was the crash of the surf upon the rocks, the crack of a lightning bolt down the trunk of a redwood, ripping me open to ignite me from within.
We were two ravenous souls, yearning to be lonely no more, and after months of denying ourselves this precious thing that we craved most, this was the breaking of our fast—and he devoured me. His mouth crushed against mine, his tongue seeking me out like a taste he could never get enough of.
The thin material of my suit made me feel all but naked in his arms as our hands roamed each other’s bodies. While Luther caressed each curve with a slow, deliberate focus, as if we had all the time in the world, my touch was urgent, desperate, needing to consume every bit of him while I still had the chance.
Remis’s amplified voice carried through the tent to announce that the fight was about to begin, shattering our hard-won
happiness.
“It’s rude to kiss a man like that and then die, Your Majesty,” Luther panted, his breath hot against my swollen lips.
I hummed. “I guess that means I’ll have to live.”
He flashed me that brilliant, unguarded smile that was only for me. My heart squeezed at the idea that I might never see it again.
He laid a brief, adoring kiss on my lips, then another on my forehead. He sheathed his sword and took my hand, and we walked together out of the tent.
The second we were once again under the scrutiny of the crowd, his demeanor changed. His expression cooled, his posture straightened. He scanned the makeshift battlefield in assessment. “You can do this,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your power vastly exceeds his. One good hit is all you need.”
I nodded silently, shaking my limbs to warm up my muscles. I let my father’s lessons run at speed through my mind—how to dodge, how to hide, how to distract, how to survive.
He had spent years preparing me for this. I may not have been the Queen he expected, but I sure as hell could be the warrior he raised.
“Rhon is a prick, and he fights dirty. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Luther glanced at me. “You can still summon your shield?”
I focused on the strong grip of Luther’s hand in mine as I pulled my magic to my chest, just as he had taught me. With a good deal of effort and more time than I’d like, I managed to push it outward into a shimmering arc.
Luther studied it and gave a sharp, approving nod. “Don’t be afraid of your godhood. The magic doesn’t just answer to you, it’s part of you. Be proud of who you are, and embrace it.”
Remis’s voice rang out across the arena. “Your Majesty, Challenger, please take your places at opposite ends of the arena.”
Luther turned to me and took my chin, the slight tremor in his hand revealing what the fierce confidence of his voice didn’t.
“You are fearless. You are strong. You do not cower in the faces of gods nor kings. You are fated for greater battles than this, so you do whatever it takes, and you fight like hell.”
“I will,” I vowed.
“Remember who you are, Diem Bellator.” He clasped the medallion at my neck. “But remember you are a phoenix, too. We do not fear the flames, for the hotter we burn, the higher we fly.”
He gave me a final, smoldering kiss, then whispered against my lips.
“Burn, my Queen. Glow so bright, the darkness trembles.”
Luther kept his eyes on me as he backed toward the stairs to the royal box. Just before he stepped off the arena floor, he threw out a whip of shadow toward the crowd. The dark rope instantly dissolved to mist—a reminder of the arena’s barrier and proof that no misfire of magic would escape and hurt an innocent.
My chest warmed at how deeply he understood my heart. With that simple act, he freed me from my fears and empowered me to let go completely.
Once he was safely outside the barrier, I strode to the end of the arena and pulled a small pouch from my belt. I reached inside and took a clump of the dark soil I had gathered from my family home, then sprinkled it across the ground as my father’s voice surfaced in my thoughts.
It’s just another battle. I’ve taught you everything you need to know.
“I can do this,” I said quietly. “I am Diem Bellator. Daughter of my mother Auralie. Chosen of my father Andrei. Protector of my brother Teller. Healer, warrior, and Queen.” My chin rose, my voice growing louder. “I can do this.”
At the opposite end, Rhon Ghislaine bounced on his toes in anticipation, the arc of his shield already glimmering around him. Two circles of ink-black spikes ringed his palms, sending visceral memories of the murder in the alley crashing into my mind.
“You have two deaths to answer for,” I yelled loudly.
He raised his arm, and his spikes doubled in size. “In a few minutes, I’ll make it three.”
I tucked the pouch away, then kneeled to run my hands through the sand, cupping a pinch of it into my palm. Rhon watched me with a suspicious frown.
“Rhon Ghislaine, are you ready?” Remis bellowed.
He cracked his knuckles and lowered his chin, his eyes fixed on me. “I’m ready.”
“Diem Corbois, are you ready?”
I cast one final glance to the royal box. My newfound family had huddled together, their arms all draped on Teller in a show of support for him and a symbolic promise to me. My heart swelled with gratitude. I placed a fist against my chest, and as one, they returned the gesture.
I looked to Remis and nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Then let the Challenging begin.”
