Chapter
Five
s the night wore on, most of the family excused themselves, bored with me already, while others loitered and chattedA quietly, no doubt gossiping over their new Queen’s scandalous heritage.
I walked over to Lily, who had been taking great pains to avoid me all night. “Princess Lilian,” I said firmly. “May I speak with you alone?”
She finally looked up at me, her eyes round with fear. “Um... of course, Your Majesty.”
I felt the burn of Luther’s stare as I brushed past him and led Lily to an empty corner of the room.
She shook her head and began to stammer. “I’m so sorry. Please… please don’t be m-mad.”
I sighed. “Lily.”
“I know I said I wouldn’t tell him, but Luther, he—he can understand—he can help you. He swore he would help you. He
told me—”
“Lily.”
“Oh Blessed Kindred.” Her voice broke. “I betrayed you. You’re my Queen, and I betrayed you at the very first test of
loyalty.”
“Lily.”
She buried her face in her hands and burst into tears, body quaking with each sob. Across the room, Luther shifted toward us, then paused.
“Look at me,” I commanded. She obeyed, her dark sapphire eyes red and weepy. I placed my hands on her arms and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m not angry with you.”
She sniffled. “You’re not?”
“No, I’m not. Now dry those tears.”
She swiped her cheeks and straightened. “But... but I promised.”
“When you sent your brother, you believed you were helping me?”
She nodded emphatically. “He’s a good man. And he can understand you—more than you think.”
I very much doubted that, but I also understood the blinding power of sibling love.
“Then I can’t be cross with you. If the roles were reversed, I couldn’t have kept such a secret from Teller, either.” I brushed away a stray tear from her cheek and smiled. “You’ve been a very thoughtful friend, and I’m going to need that friendship in the days ahead.”
Her face brightened. “Oh yes, I’ll do anything you need!”
“Do you know of any way to bring Teller here without anyone in the palace seeing him?”
“Easy,” she said, a smile finally breaking through. “I sneak in and out of the palace all the time.”
I laughed. Teenagers would be teenagers, Descended or mortal. “Perfect. Bring him here tomorrow. I don’t mind if Luther knows, but please, tell no one else.”
“My lips are sealed—really this time.” She threw her arms around my neck, crushing me against her. “Thank you so much,
Di—um, I mean, Your Majesty.”
“None of that. Call me Diem.”
I returned the hug with a warm squeeze. Lily was a good soul, and I suspected my brother cared for her more than he let on.
I would have to protect the Princess from my plans as much as I possibly could.
But destroying her brother, her entire family—there would be no way to spare her the pain of those consequences.
Luther finally joined us. “Lily, it’s getting quite late and you have school tomorrow. You should get to bed.”
She rolled her eyes. “We have a Queen for the first time in centuries, and you expect me to sleep?”
“I can order him to let you stay up,” I offered. “If he says no, I’ll have him beheaded.”
Lily giggled. “I suppose I’ll have to decline. He does love to say no, and I’m rather fond of his head.”
“Lucky for me,” he said dryly.
Lily raised up on her toes to kiss his cheek, and he hunched over to give her an easier reach. It was, to my deep irritation,
rather adorable. She ambushed me with a final hug, then threw Luther a coy grin as she headed out of the room.
Once she was gone, Luther eyed me carefully. “She seemed happy.”
I shrugged. “She’s a happy girl.”
“You didn’t punish her.” An observation—and a subtle question.
“Of course not. She’s still young. Misplaced as her faith in you may be, I’m not such a monster that I’ll hold it against her.”
A shadow crossed over his face. “Thank you for that,” he said quietly.
A long, awkward silence passed. I glanced around the room, looking for someone, anyone, to save me from this conversation.
“You handled the meeting extremely well,” Luther said.
My chest warmed at his compliment, and I internally scolded myself for it.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he went on. “Whatever your plans with the Crown, we can help. I can help.”
“An hour ago, you tried to threaten me into choosing your House.” I crossed my arms. “In fact, that’s the third time you’ve threatened my life since dawn.”
“I didn’t—” He scrubbed his face, his calm facade beginning to fracture. “Those were misunderstandings. I have never intended you any harm. What I said earlier was a warning, not a threat. If the other Houses find out about you, they’ll be breathing down your neck.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.” I shrugged. “Maybe they’ll have a better offer for me than House Corbois.”
He worked his jaw. “If that’s your wish, I will set up some meetings discreetly—without my family’s knowledge. But if you choose another House, you’ll be entirely alone. At least here, you have allies.”
I snorted. “Like who, you?”
“Yes,” he growled. “And Lily. And others—people who are not loyal to House Corbois or to my father. People who will be loyal to you, if you get to know them.”
I studied his face, scouring it for some trace of the scheme I was sure he must be hiding. “How did you know the truth about
my father?”
“I didn’t. I guessed.”
And now I’d just confirmed it.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. “You just announced my biggest secret to your entire family. What happened to telling them as little as possible?”
“You left me no choice. If you try to pass yourself off as the first-ever mortal Crown, you’ll be dead in a week. Telling them you’re half-mortal isn’t ideal either, but they can’t punish you for it now that you’re Queen. It was the safer option. Besides...”
His head cocked in a predatory tilt. “We both know you have far bigger secrets than that.”
I stilled, my voice dropping to a low hiss. “And what of your secrets, Prince? You stole one of mine. I think I’m owed one in return.”
His expression shuttered as he silently looked away.
“Where is my mother, Luther?”
More silence.
My anger spiked, hands fisting. “Where is she?”
His head whipped toward me, his gaze hard and dark as night. He leaned his face down to mine and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, a third figure sauntered toward us, and his lips snapped shut.
“Your Majesty,” Aemonn said smoothly, coming to stand so close beside me that his knuckles grazed the edge of my hip.
Not an accident, I suspected.
He gave a deep nod, though his glittering eyes never left mine. “I pray your introduction to our family was not terribly overwhelming.”
“Not at all,” I said, my smile tight. “Your father was particularly charming.”
Aemonn clicked his tongue. “Calling you a half-breed... such vulgar words. I beg your forgiveness for his behavior. The events of the day have been a shock for him.” His gaze flicked to Luther, and his expression turned smug. “For all of us, I imagine.”
“Interesting,” Luther said icily, “given how often I’ve heard those same words from your mouth.”
Aemonn didn’t flinch, his brilliant smile only growing. “You’re mistaken, cousin. Perhaps your own involvement with the half-mortal children is coloring your memory.”
I glanced between the two men, fascinated by their frozen glares and tense posture. These two definitely didn’t like each other.
Aemonn’s attention returned to me and warmed. “I’d be happy to give you a tour of the palace grounds tomorrow. That is, if you can escape the clutches of your royal babysitter here.”
Luther stiffened. “That won’t be necess—”
“What a kind offer,” I interrupted. “I’d love to. After all, if I’m to accept this proposal, I should get to know my future
cousins.” I smiled sweetly at Luther. “Don’t you agree?”
He stared at me with that stony look of his, a silent warning in the flare of his nostrils. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“That settles it,” Aemonn chirped. “I’ll come find you after lunch.”
“Perfect.” I beamed back at him, relishing in Luther’s discomfort. “And please, call me Diem.”
Aemonn took both my hands and pressed his lips twice against each set of knuckles. “Until tomorrow, Diem.”
He gave me a roguish wink before strolling away, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. For a people who were infamously impassive, these Descended were eager to posture before their new Crown.
Luther watched me, looking as if he had an entire library of words he was feverishly trying to hold back.
“Something to add?” I asked in my most innocent tone.
“You made it quite clear you do not desire my counsel.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
He gave me a long stare, then his eyes roved downward, pausing on my daggers before rising again. “I presume you intend to stay in the palace this evening.”
“I intended to stay in the hunting lodge. Far away from—” I gestured at the remaining crowd. “—all of this.”
“The lodge isn’t secure. You won’t be safe there.”
“Believe me, I can defend myself.”
“No, you can’t.” The words were firm—not an insult, just a fact. “Against a mortal perhaps, but not against a Descended.
Not until you’ve mastered your magic.”
My pride rankled. “I told you, I don’t have any magic.”
“We can discuss that tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing to disc—”
“The King’s body is lying in state in the royal suite, but there are guest quarters you can use for now. I’ve already made the arrangements.”
The discussion of where to sleep had my body catching up with my brain, and I was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of just how exhausted I was.
“Fine,” I muttered, my eyelids drooping.
We marched without speaking through a twisting, turning path of dark hallways lined with more doors than I could count. I knew the palace was large from its grand exterior, but inside, it became a labyrinth I couldn’t imagine understanding, let alone ever calling it home.
“You grew up here?” I asked as we walked.
“We all did. House Corbois has held the Crown for as long as any of us have been alive.”
I wondered vaguely if Teller and I would have liked being children here, sliding down the polished wooden stair rails, hiding behind the ornate furniture and making up stories for the stuffy, pretentious-looking ancestors whose portraits lined every wall.
I tried to imagine Luther as a child, giggling and wrestling with Lily in the way my brother and I had. My mind came up utterly blank.
“Did you enjoy being raised in the palace?” I asked.
“To be raised Corbois is a great privilege.” His tone was stiff, almost mechanical. “All our children are well cared for and protected, with every opportunity provided to them. I am very grateful for those blessings.”
“That wasn’t my question. Were you happy?”
He stayed silent for a while, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. “I was presumed the King’s successor from a very young age. My childhood, and all the years since, were dedicated to preparing for that duty. There was little time for much else.”
Despite myself, I felt a twinge of sympathy. I knew how it felt to grow up thinking one’s fate was already drawn in ink.
“My mother began training me as a healer when I was a toddler,” I said quietly. “That was the only future I ever expected to have. It was nothing like being the King’s heir, of course, but...” I shrugged and looked down at my feet. “Mortal women have so few opportunities. Everyone always told me I was lucky to be born onto a wider path.”
He glanced at me, his expression softening. “But it doesn’t feel wider when it’s a path you didn’t choose.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Luther’s eyes roamed across the expansive palace hallways, his stance relaxing as his features turned pensive. It reminded me of the side of him I had glimpsed the morning after the armory fire—unguarded, unpretentious, and disarmingly genuine.
“There were some happy moments here,” he admitted. “This is the only home I’ve ever known. Nearly all my memories take place within these walls, good and bad alike.”
“Is that why you’re helping me now, because you don’t want to leave?”
“No. Though I’m glad you’ve finally admitted I’m helping you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not what I meant.”
In the dim glow of the firelit sconces, I could just make out the upward curve of his lips. There it was again—he was smirking. I tried to muster some energy to be indignant, but I had nothing left to give.
I made a mental note to be angry with him again after I slept.
“I’m not afraid of House Corbois losing its royal status, if that’s what you’re asking. Whatever choice you make, we’ll survive.” He paused. “Though if you do find a way to pass on the Crown, I ask that you not force the children out of their home, in case it returns to a Corbois.”
I frowned. “I don’t want to kick anyone out of their home. There’s been too much of that by the Descended already.”
“Indeed, there has.”
My steps faltered at his unexpected agreement. I swore I caught a flash of surprise blink across his own face, as if he hadn’t intended to say the words aloud.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I prodded. “I’m not asking what your family wants. I’m asking what you want.”
He looked over at me, his gait slowing as he scanned my face.
“Everyone expected that you would inherit the Crown,” I said.
“And you believe that I’m disappointed I did not.”
“Are you?”
He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. His arms crossed over his chest, the action widening his already broad frame.
I’d never thought myself small, not by any meaning of the word. But something about standing in front of this man, with all his size and strength and magic, his refinement and knowledge and ego... It made me feel minuscule. A speck of dust floating through a mighty ray of sunshine.
“If I had been called to serve as king, or if I am in the future, I would accept the role with honor.”
Words hung in the air, something still unspoken.
“But?” I pressed.
Luther frowned. He seemed to be looking through me, rather than at me, as if visualizing some long-buried memory. “No, I’m not disappointed. I’ve always believed it’s my destiny to serve the Crown, not to wear it.”
Again, I searched his face for the truth. I wondered how gullible I must be that I found myself believing him.
His palm curved into the small of my back to nudge me forward, his touch sending a hot knife of adrenaline slicing through my fatigue. I couldn’t miss how his hand clung to me long after I fell back in step beside him, only falling away as we turned into a hall crowded with guards.
“This is the Crown’s wing. The family wing can get quite lively with cousins coming and going at all hours. I presumed you’d prefer something with a bit more privacy.”
He’d presumed right. The idea of my every movement being watched by all those new, curious faces made me extraordinarily jumpy.
Luther motioned to two doors situated on either side of the corridor, one unguarded and the other flanked by four armed guards. “You can stay here until the royal suite is empty,” he said, gesturing to the manned door, then pointed at the other. “And these are my chambers. If you need anything, feel free to knock.”
Of course he would set me up somewhere he could hover close and keep watch.
I scanned the guards’ faces, relieved to find that none of them were the same Descended I had tussled with on my previous visits. My brows arched at Luther. “You really think this is necessary?”
“Until you accept my family’s offer—yes, I do.”
I shot him a pointed stare. “Are these guards aware the only resident of this palace that’s tried to kill me thus far is you?”
Judging from their shared expressions of unease, they were not.
Luther had the wisdom to look uncomfortable. “As I said, that was a misunderstanding.”
“You wanted to know if I killed the King.”
“I...” He tensed, seeming to hold back. “Yes.”
“And if I said I had? Would you have killed me then?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
His hands twitched at his sides, his fingers curving inward. “If my plan was to kill you, Diem, I wouldn’t stab you in secret.
I’d take you on in the Challenging, where everyone could see it.”
It turned out I was not too tired to get angry after all.
My blood rose to a simmer. The mysterious voice inside me, the one that had been provoking my temper ever since I stopped taking the flameroot, shuddered as it stretched from its dormant coil.
Fight.
“First of all,” I clipped, “since you’ve always insisted on the importance of titles, you may refer to me as Your Majesty or my Queen.”
His mouth tightened. “Of course. Apologies, my Queen.”
“And why wait for the Challenging? I’ll take you on any day, any time, Prince.” I unsheathed a dagger from my hip and tilted its point toward him. “I’ve shed your blood once today. Why not make it twice?”
Luther’s temper snapped.
Quick as an asp, his hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked it forward, forcing me to stagger closer until the tip of my blade pressed to his chest. “What are you going to do with this ‘piece of tin,’ Your Majesty, trim my hair? I doubt it’s sharp enough even for that.”
To prove his point, he jammed the knife further. The edge sliced easily through the thick layers of his clothing—I kept my blades razor sharp, thank you very much—but my pride was short lived, as his skin only dimpled at the pressure.
“You need your other blade,” he scolded.
I made a show of dropping my eyes to my calf, hoping to trick him into believing I still had the Fortosian steel dagger sheathed in my boot.
Without releasing my wrist, he pulled back his jacket, revealing my lost dagger tucked into his belt.
“Looking for this?” he said, a taunting note to his tone.
I darted my free hand to grab it. Luther snatched that wrist as well, pinning it behind my back and using his grip to pull me closer. He kept my other hand steady, the point of the blade still pressed to his heart.
The guards gawked nervously, hands on their weapons, unsure how to react. Unsure which one of us they even needed to
protect.
Fight.
The voice pushed me into action. My father’s training burst from my muscles in a familiar dance of movements. I twisted, rotating my arm until Luther’s grip was at too awkward an angle to maintain, and my wrist slipped free of his fingers.
So many of my father’s lessons had prepared me for this—out-manned in size, strength, and weaponry. In some ways, I was more comfortable taking on an enemy like Luther than a foe half my size.
But Luther was fast and well-trained in his own right. Hands and limbs went flying on both sides as he countered my strikes with ease. When we finally stilled, I wasn’t even sure what had happened.
My dagger clattered to the floor. My body was trapped against his, my back pressed flush to his chest. My right arm was twisted in his grip, the other immobilized at my side where his arm was strapped across my ribs.
A hot breath caressed my neck as he leaned down and whispered, “If I wanted you dead, Your Majesty, you would already be dead.”
A muffled, high-pitched screech reverberated through the halls, sounding as if it came from the King’s bedroom.
Sorae. I felt her panic ripple through the mental bond that connected us. She could sense that I was fighting—and losing.
One of the guards unsheathed his sword slowly, tentatively, looking as if he wasn’t sure whether the greater sin was interfering or staying put. “Sir?” he asked.
Luther ignored it all. The faint stubble on his chin tickled the sensitive curve of my shoulder, and my traitorous body arched in his arms. His grip tightened around my waist.
“Tell me how to prove to you that you can trust me,” he murmured, his lips grazing my skin.
“Trust you?” I choked, relieved to see that my temper had not surrendered to him as easily as my body had. “Are you out of your gods-damned mind?”
I pushed against his grip, but he didn’t budge.
Fight.
Gods, I wanted to murder him. Mostly for the embarrassment of being so easily bested, but the list of reasons was growing longer by the hour.
Mindful of the guards hanging on our every word, I dropped my voice low. “If it’s my trust you want, you can start by telling me where she is.”
He knew who I meant. His whole body stilled.
Sorae roared, and the walls of the palace shook with a shuddering boom. A cloud of dust trickled from the ceiling. Another enraged howl sounded a second later, followed by another.
Luther released his hold, and I stumbled away, snatching my mortal dagger from the ground.
“Call off Sorae,” he ordered.
“Bite me.”
“Call her off, or she’ll destroy the royal chambers trying to get to you.”
“Good. Let her smash this entire fucking palace.”
The walls rumbled with another blast of the gryvern’s wrath. Luther’s steely eyes narrowed. “Call Sorae off, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
I paused. “You’ll tell me where she is?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m at liberty to share. That’s the best I can offer.”
Though I glared at his carefully chosen words, I relented. My eyes closed as I reached out blindly into the darkness, where the gryvern’s presence floated somewhere in the abyss of my tangled mind.
I speared a thought in her direction: I’m not in danger.
The booming stopped, replaced by an unhappy trill. I sensed her reticence—she wanted to see me and confirm for herself I was unhurt.
I’m safe, I told her. It was just an argument.
Across the bond, her panic ebbed in favor of grumbling acceptance.
I looked at Luther expectantly. “Well?”
“Tomorrow.” He gritted his teeth at my answering look of outrage. “It’s late and neither of us is in the right state of mind.”
“If you don’t keep your word, Luther Corbois, you’re gryvern food.”
“At least that would be a fair fight.”
I threw every ounce of fury I had into the two middle fingers I flung in his direction. I stalked past the slack-jawed guards into my room and slammed the door behind me.
I stood frozen for several seconds, my chest heaving with livid breaths. The voice was still chanting in my head, riling me
up, urging me to fight, fight, fight.
Suddenly, I went still.
On the other side of the door, Luther’s voice thundered in the hallway. He was more irate than I’d ever heard him—more emotional than I’d believed him capable of being. I leaned my ear against the wood to listen.
“I should put all four of your heads on a pike for treason. I just assaulted the Queen, and you cowards stood there and watched me do it. The next time someone lays a hand on her and you don’t kill them where they stand, I’ll carve out your eyeballs and feed them to the fucking hounds. It doesn’t matter if it’s me or the Regent or Blessed Mother Lumnos herself.
Do your damn jobs and protect our Queen.”
Quiet, muffled acknowledgements.
“Am I understood?” he bellowed.
“Yes, Your Highness,” they answered in loud unison.
A thump of angry footsteps, followed by the slamming of a nearby door.
Interesting, I thought.
His words rattled in my head as I headed for the washing room. My skin was inflamed with the burn of my own wrath and the lingering heat of having Luther’s body so close to mine. As I splashed cold water on my face, I half expected to see steam rise from my dripping cheeks.
What I did see robbed every thought from my head.
A large, bronze-edged mirror hung above the water basin. It was the first time I’d seen my full reflection since...
The Crown.
There it was, pulsing and glittering, floating with unearthly grace a mere inch or so above my head. It was just as I remembered seeing it on King Ulther—not a static object, but a kind of living creation. The shadowy, thorn-dotted vines were in a continual state of growth, twining and budding new offshoots as others withered away. The scattered stars of light twinkled and flared, nearly blinding at their full intensity.
I was a wreck—my eyes bloodshot, my clothes rumpled, my skin sallow and crusted with mud—but the Crown was a thing
of perfect, incomparable beauty.
A laugh leapt up from my throat.
Had I really walked into a room of sophisticated nobles looking like this and declared myself their ruler? And they had just... accepted it?
All because I, Diem Bellator, poor mortal healer, wore the Crown.
I was the Queen of Lumnos.
My eyes snagged on a clawfoot tub full to the brim with steaming water. I muttered a prayer of thanks for whatever servant had seen my pitiful state and run a bath—whether out of kindness or judgment, I didn’t care.
I stripped off my clothes and sank into the soapy water, groaning as the warmth soothed my tired muscles. I washed my hair with an assortment of gardenia-scented concoctions, then scrubbed at my skin until it was pink and raw. When I was done, I leaned my head back against the curved porcelain rim and closed my eyes, allowing the dam of my exhaustion to finally give way.
At some point I must have dozed off, because the water was cold when a swift knock rang out from the hall.
Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of the tub and wrapped a thin drying cloth under my arms, securing it in a knot between my breasts. I had no energy left to care about the stream of water that followed my slow trudge to the door. I slumped against the wall, barely staying upright to pull the door open wide.
Luther.
His cool composure lasted all of two seconds as he gazed down at my dripping, barely covered body, his eyes darkening to
pitch.
I really had to stop answering doors without my clothes on.
“We’ve discussed this, Prince.” I pointed at my face. “Eyes up here.”
His throat strained. He stood straighter and offered me a lumpy linen sack. “I brought you a few things.”
I took it, blinking in surprise at its heft. “What’s in it?”
He gestured for me to look for myself. I pulled at the drawstrings and peered inside at a jumble of Fortosian steel knives, each in its own sheath, many discreet enough to be concealed beneath clothing. He’d even tossed in a variety of straps to wear them in different ways. Though some had handles of ivory or exotic woods, not one of them was bejeweled or gilded.
“I thought these might make you more comfortable here,” he said.
Wholly against my will, something warmed in my chest.
“And here I was thinking you all only carried weapons as jewelry,” I said, nodding at the ornate sword hilt peeking over his shoulder.
“This sword is a family heirloom. It can cut as well as any blade in Emarion—and it’s seen plenty of battlefields.” He sounded a little defensive. It was, disturbingly, a little cute. “However, I knew you would prefer something less... conspicuous.”
I grunted in acknowledgement. Fine, I could admit it was a thoughtful gesture. No sense in telling him that, though.
“I suppose I also owe you this.” He opened his jacket and pulled out my dagger, offering it to me, handle first.
I stared at the knife without moving. It was clean and polished, no longer coated in his blood. My eyes slowly dragged up his arm to his neck, where I’d sunk the blade’s edge—not quite intentionally—into his flesh.
Right before the most passionate, all-consuming, world-forgetting kiss I’d ever had. A kiss made of fire and lust, hatred and hurt, and perhaps something more. Something that lit a spark in my chest... and between my legs.
He watched me in silence. I could see the words forming in his eyes, hovering on his lips, the muscles on his face twitching with the effort of holding back.
His voice softened. “Diem, about what happened earlier—”
I snatched the knife from his hand and shut the door in his face.
Luther was a threat, that had become abundantly clear. Whatever might have passed between us before, it had to end. This
was war.
And he was my prime target.
