Chapter
Six
omeone was in my room.S I woke up to the shuffle of feet and the distant click of cabinets opening and closing.
I didn’t dare open my eyes.
Last night, with my final dregs of energy, I had stashed a handful of the blades Luther brought around the room—behind the door, near the bathtub, in the small drawer of the nightstand—before slipping between the silken bedsheets and falling asleep, clutching Brecke’s knife to my chest.
Now, however, my hands were empty. I must have lost my grip on the dagger, and I couldn’t risk losing the element of surprise by fumbling for it.
The footsteps grew louder. As quietly as I could, my fingers crept under my pillow and closed around the knife I’d stashed
there.
And then I waited. Listened.
The whisper of fabric against fabric. The screech of wooden chair legs dragging against the stone floor. A long, drawn-out sigh. A slight weight leaning against the corner of the bed.
I pounced.
I threw the bedding to the side, unsheathing the blade and lunging forward in one seamless move, hurling myself into the air toward— A shriek rang out, followed by a flash of light so dazzling I was momentarily blind.
I yelped and stumbled back across the mattress, my back cracking against the wooden headboard.
“Oh shit—I mean—Blessed Kindred, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to use my magic. Are you alright?” A female voice, frantic and subtly familiar.
I blinked through the spots dancing in my vision. A woman stood beside the bed, holding a pile of clothing and looking
horrified.
“How did you get in?” I barked.
“Luther let me in. He said you might need some clean clothes.” She looked pointedly down at my naked body, now on full display after my towel had dislodged in my sleep.
Seriously, how did I keep ending up undressed in front of these people?
“We met last night,” she said with a tentative smile. “I’m Eleanor. One of the many distant Corbois cousins.”
That’s right—Eleanor, the cheerful woman whose bright energy had stood out among the severe faces.
I dropped the knife and sank to my knees, clutching the bedsheet to my chest and blushing bright red. “Yes, I remember you.
Hello again.”
“Sorry I scared you.”
“Sorry I tried to stab you.”
“No problem,” she said with a shrug. She tossed the clothing she was carrying onto the bed and eyed the sack of blades I’d left beside me, the contents of which were now scattered across the sheets. “Do you always sleep with a pile of knives?”
“Luther brought them by last night. I think he believes one of you is going to try to kill me.”
Eleanor snorted. “That’s ironic.”
“Why?”
“I mean, if anyone was going to try...” She caught herself and blanched. “Not that he would ever... I don’t mean...”
“You mean if anyone had a motive to kill me, it would be Luther?” She nodded sheepishly, and I laughed. “That’s what I tried to tell him.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved some knives to the side before plopping down beside me. “Good luck trying to tell him
anything.”
I liked this woman already.
“If Luther armed me to the teeth and then snuck you in while I was sleeping, he either doesn’t think much of my self-defense
skills, or you must have done something to make him mad.”
She grinned. “Oh, I’m sure it’s the latter. I do my best to provoke him on a daily basis.”
I really liked her.
“But,” she continued, “he did tell me not to wake you. I’m just not very good at following his orders. I thought you might like someone to accompany you to breakfast, since you’re all alone here.”
All alone here.
The words throbbed like an open wound. I was indeed alone—not just in this palace, but in this world of Descended. My family, Henri, Maura, everyone I loved... although they were only a few miles away, they might as well have been in another realm.
“Yes,” I forced out. “That would be nice.”
She began to rifle through the garments she’d brought, and I realized with a start that they were all dresses. Not just any dresses, but elegant, floor-length gowns.
I hadn’t worn a dress since I was a child. Once Teller was old enough to play with me, I’d grown jealous of how the breeches he wore made him faster at climbing trees and running through the forest. One night, I threw a tantrum and hurled all my dresses into the fireplace, demanding that my parents outfit me no differently than my brother.
As I grew older and more aware of the attention of boys, I began to regret my decision. I was jealous of the way the pretty girls at school would dress to enhance their feminine curves, but my stubborn pride kept me from admitting my desire to be like them. Over time, that developed into an embarrassing fear of all things girlish.
The stunning dresses that lay before me now felt like weapons I’d never been trained to use, a power I wasn’t yet worthy to wield. My cheeks burned at the idea of explaining that to someone like Eleanor, who wore her womanhood with effortless grace.
She shot me an apologetic look. “Luther said you’d prefer pants, but dresses were all I had on short notice. I can try to find you some for tomorrow.”
I forced a stiff smile. “These are lovely. Thank you.”
I ran my fingers over them, my touch trailing over the delicate lace, the glittering gems, and the colorful embroidery.
Anxiety rose like a lump in my throat.
I’m a Bellator, I reminded myself. And I will not be intimidated by a dress.
Something Eleanor said sparked a memory. “You took care of me after the armory fire, didn’t you?”
Her brows leapt. “You remember that?”
“Bits and pieces. I remember Luther asking you to help me.”
Her face bloomed bright scarlet. “I hope you don’t mind that I bathed you. You were in rough shape, and he wanted me to check your wounds.”
I frowned. I’d woken up that morning with no signs of injuries—not even a bruise. Somewhere in my head, the nagging of my conscience grew louder.
Eleanor sighed. “I would have put you in something nicer, had I known you would end up in front of the whole family.
Luther was in a panic, so I did the best I could.” She leaned back on her hands and gave me a curious look. “I’ve never seen
him that worked up before.”
My frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“I never thought the great Luther Corbois would be the type to fuss, but he hardly left your side. He kept checking your pulse every few minutes to make sure you were still alive. When I finally convinced him to go bathe, he made me swear not to take my eyes off you.”
“He didn’t... he—he wouldn’t... I’m sure he didn’t fuss,” I protested as warmth crept up my chest. “He must have felt guilty for letting me go into the building.”
“Perhaps.” She pursed her lips, a suspicious gleam in her eyes.
Suddenly I felt awkward, unsure what to do with my face or my hands. I plucked the plainest dress in Eleanor’s collection —a dark blue velvet sheath with a straight neckline that dipped below my shoulders and a trickle of silver embroidered stars cascading upward from the wrists. Modest enough, other than a high slit that allowed a single thigh to peek through.
I hurriedly dressed, then Eleanor brushed out my hair and secured it with a silver hairpin she pulled from her own curly brown tresses.
I dared a peek in a nearby mirror and nearly jumped. It felt like looking at a stranger. With the benefit of sleep, the darkness had vanished from beneath my silvery eyes, my skin glowing with warmth and color. The Crown cast a faint light over my face, highlighting the apples of my cheeks and the slightly upturned nose I’d always hated for making me look far sweeter than I really was.
My ice-white hair, having spent the better part of twenty years braided and out of the way, was joyfully unbound in gentle waves across my shoulders, while my curves, hidden for so long under tunics and baggy trousers, were boldly pronounced beneath the clingy fabric.
I felt somehow more exposed than when Eleanor had walked in on me wearing nothing at all. It felt like putting some part of me on display that I normally kept locked up and hidden away, even from myself.
But strangely enough... I didn’t hate it. There was an undeniable strength in the woman looking back at me. Perhaps she couldn’t wrestle nimbly in the dirt or scurry up a tree, but she looked like she could best a man in a thousand other ways. Much more interesting ways.
“You don’t normally dress up, do you?” Eleanor asked as she touched a few dots of floral perfume to my throat.
“I don’t even own a dress,” I admitted. “In my normal life, all this would only get in the way of defending myself.”
Eleanor ran a hand along my hair, fluffing it gently. “Words can cut as deeply as a blade, you know. So can titles, or influence, or one’s appearance. Especially here at court. Some Corbois refuse to even wear weapons, because they think it
makes them look weak.”
My eyebrows flew upward. “Really?”
She nodded and met my gaze in the mirror. “To be honest, in House Corbois, I fear those who don’t wear weapons much
more than those who do.”
“You don’t wear weapons.”
Her grin was pure mischief. “Exactly.”
I laughed and grabbed a leg strap from the collection Luther had given me, then found Brecke’s knife tangled in the sheets and secured it high on my thigh, plainly visible through the dress’s slit.
“I’ll keep my weapons for now, but I appreciate the advice.” I sighed. “I have a lot to learn, I think.”
Eleanor looked hesitant. “I could teach you, if you’d like. Tell you what I know about royal life and protocol.”
My skepticism prickled. “But only if I claim House Corbois?”
“You’ll need help even if you don’t claim my House. Especially if you don’t claim my House.”
“And you want to secure your place with the new Crown,” I said, my tone chilling.
Eleanor avoided my eyes and fidgeted with the folds of her skirt. “I won’t pretend it didn’t cross my mind. I’ve spent my life at court. Dealing with the politics and the rumors, the unspoken rules—it’s the only thing I’m any good at. I can’t fight like Alixe, I don’t have powerful magic like Luther.” She finally looked back up at me, and I could read the humble honesty in her features. “It would be nice to feel useful. Especially to someone who matters to all of them.”
I understood her then. Like me, she’d been born into a box with a tight lid and hard walls, designed to keep her small and insignificant. And, like me, she’d dreamed of being more—of being someone who mattered.
I shrugged. “Alright.”
She lit up. “Alright?”
I took her hands. “Eleanor Corbois, do you agree to serve as a loyal advisor to the Crown on all matters of politics, rumors, unspoken rules, and whatever other embarrassing mistakes I’m surely going to make?”
She looked so overjoyed she might cry. “Yes, Your Majesty, I would be honored to serve you.”
“Wonderful. And please, call me Diem.”
MAKING Eleanor my first advisor was turning out to be a very wise idea.
She took to her role with impressive enthusiasm. For the next few hours, we walked through the palace while she pointed out every room, every hiding place, and every back stairwell or servant’s corridor for sneaking around unseen. She introduced me to many of the workers, gushing in their presence over the most talented among them, and warning me in private of the ones with loose lips and wandering eyes.
She knew all the guards as well, counseling me which of them would fall asleep while on watch and which had received their posts through bribery rather than merit. The guards on my detail, she assured me, were four of the best—and the most discreet—notwithstanding Luther’s dressing down of them the night before.
By noon, the palace had begun to feel less like some foreign land and more like... not a home—not yet, maybe not ever— but something closer to familiar. I could already tell I would need to keep Eleanor close.
I supposed I would have to find a way to spare her, too, from my plan of destruction.
Most helpfully, she dished without reservation on her family and its complex dynamics. We discussed the subject over a lunch of finger sandwiches and fruit, which we’d brought to a small table in the garden to take advantage of the unseasonably warm day—and to avoid the prying eyes and ears of the packed dining hall. Sorae sprawled on a patch of grass nearby, sunning her outstretched wings.
“So Remis and Garath hate each other?” I asked as I nibbled on a wedge of tart green apple.
“Not exactly. They’re brothers, so they would certainly choose each other over anyone outside of the family, but Garath
never got over King Ulther choosing Remis as Regent. Garath believes that, as the elder brother, the title should have gone to
him.”
“Why didn’t it?”
She looked down, chewing on her lip. “Uncle Garath has... issues managing his anger.” She shot me a look. “Besides, you met him. Did he come off as particularly diplomatic to you?”
“Good point. Why does he care so much about the title? What does being Regent even mean?”
“The Regent acts as the Crown when the Crown cannot. For example, when Ulther fell unconscious, Remis effectively took his place as King.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And no one wondered if Remis had something to do with the King’s illness?”
“Oh, they did. Especially the other Houses. Everyone suspected Uncle Remis was trying to get his brother out of the way so he and his son could take over.”
“Was everyone truly so certain that Luther would be the next Crown? I thought the magic could choose anyone.”
Eleanor nodded as she sipped her wine. “It can, but with Luther, it was never really a question. No one else’s magic even came close. He tries not to use it often—I’ve only seen him let loose a couple of times, and wow.” She blew out a breath, then looked at me with a sense of wonder in her eyes. “If your magic is stronger than his, it’s incredible you were able to stay hidden for so long. When we were teenagers, if Luther got angry, he could accidentally take out an entire building. They even pulled him out of school because they were so afraid he would hurt someone. He had to have a tutor alone.”
I started to correct her and mention that I didn’t have any magic, but the memory of Luther’s warning stilled my tongue.
“Doesn’t it bother you that your family members might be killing each other?” I asked instead.
“It would, if I believed it. I doubt Remis was in a hurry to see Luther on the throne. Those two aren’t as close as they seem.” She popped a raspberry into her mouth. “They put on a united front for the family’s sake, but I’ve heard them fight when they think no one is around. They have very different plans for Lumnos.”
I tried not to look too curious. “And what are those plans?”
“Whatever they were, they blew away once you walked in the door.” She grinned and refilled my wine, nudging the glass closer to me. “Your plans are the only ones that matter now.”
Indeed.
I slumped back and closed my eyes, tilting my face up to the sunny warmth. I had to grip the arms of my chair to steady myself as the world kept tilting—and tilting, and tilting. It seemed I’d had more wine than I thought.
“Is there any more pleasing sight than two beautiful women basking under the Lumnos sun?” a man drawled in a voice as smooth as satin on bare skin.
“Already trying to charm our new Queen, Aemonn?”
“Looks like you beat me to it, Ellie.”
I sat up, blinking a few times to steady Eleanor’s face in my woozy vision. She was glaring at Aemonn with her nose
scrunched.
“I hate that nickname.”
Aemonn smirked at her. “Why do you think I use it?”
She tossed a strawberry at him, which he deftly dodged. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
“Actually, Her Majesty and I have plans.” He turned his attention to me, his smirk softening into something more alluring.
He offered the crook of his arm. “Shall we?”
I pushed to my feet and gripped the edge of the table as I swayed. Aemonn raised a brow and looked as if he was biting
back a laugh.
“Good wine,” I explained sheepishly.
The sound of a door closing drew my attention. On the other end of the terrace, Luther stood by the palace, his focus heavy on me as his eyes drank me in. His body was stone still—he didn’t even seem to be breathing.
My face heated. Though he’d seen me unclothed a mortifying number of times, in this dress, I felt more laid bare before him than ever.
The effort not to storm over and demand the answers he’d promised was palpable, but I was in no condition to have that conversation until I’d sobered up, and I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t sloppily attempt revenge for how he had so effortlessly subdued me last night.
And I had even less trust in the flutter in my stomach at the way he gazed at me, hands flexing at his sides.
Sorae pulled to her feet and arched her neck toward Luther as her tail whipped angrily. She gave an indignant huff through her scaled snout, curls of smoke billowing from her nostrils.
I grinned. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one still holding a grudge over last night’s spar.
I slipped my arm through Aemonn’s before looking back at my new advisor. “Thank you for this morning, Eleanor. Perhaps we can make it a regular occurrence?”
She beamed. “I’d love that. Although, next time I’ll think I’ll try knocking first.”
