Chapter
Nine
was empty in every sense of the word.I After I left the dungeon, I surrendered to a deep, soul-rending despair that pulled me into a dreamless slumber, but by morning, I awoke feeling numb.
Expending so much power in one explosive burst had drained my energy, leaving my body sore and my head spinning. I bathed and dressed as if swimming through oil, every action requiring twice the effort for half the speed.
My thoughts—and the voice—were quieter than ever. The chaos was still in there somewhere, rumbling under the surface, but for the first time in months, I could sit in silence and just be.
Tears, anger, panic, hope—they all seemed oddly foreign, objects that belonged to someone else. Even when I dared to let my mind drift to my darkest thoughts, the fears hiding within were no more than broken trinkets on a dusty shelf.
I had always imagined the Descended as emotionless shells with magic where their hearts should be. That’s exactly how I felt now—powerful beyond measure, yet depthlessly void.
I’d been up since dawn, sitting in an armchair and staring blankly at the wall, when a knock on the door broke the quiet.
I opened it to see Luther holding a tray piled high with flaky pastries, fluffy steaming omelets, glistening fruits, and an array of juices and teas. He studied me warily, the way you might eye a wounded beast that was as likely to rip your throat out as to keel over and die.
“I thought you might prefer to take breakfast privately this morning.”
I stared at him.
Angry—I was supposed to be angry at him, wasn’t I?
“And I owe you information concerning...” His eyes darted to the guards. “...our mutual acquaintance.”
Yes. My mother.
I did want to know those things. Badly.
I could still feel that, at least.
I stepped aside and watched as he laid out the food on a small table, then I sank into a chair across from him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. His eyes jumped across my face. “Did using your magic help?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but—had it helped? Was this better than being angry?
“You were right,” I said. “About the release.” I began to pile food on a plate, less out of hunger than just to give myself something to do.
His posture eased as he watched me take my first bites. “The things I said last night... I only meant to provoke you so you would use your magic. I didn’t really mean—”
“It’s fine.”
He leaned forward. “You are not a cowa—”
“Will you pass the tea?”
Luther frowned. He lifted the teapot and poured it into a delicate porcelain cup, then handed it to me. “You must know, you
are the last person I would ever—”
“And the sugar, as well?”
His chin dropped. He slowly slid the bowl forward. “If you would just let me—”
“Why do you feel different today?” I plunked a sugar cube into my tea. “Normally, when you come in a room, I can feel your magic. Today, I can’t.”
He leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Because I drained my magic last night trying to keep the palace from coming down on our heads. You should be proud—normally it takes me hours to burn out. You ran through my reserves in minutes.”
Any other day, that would have made me tremendously smug. Obnoxiously smug. I should have been making sexually charged innuendos about his stamina with a wicked smirk.
Instead, I stirred my tea. “I think I’m empty, too.”
“No, you’re not. Not even close.” He smiled wryly. “I can feel yours. It’s weaker than normal, but still stronger than any
Descended I’ve ever met.”
I stilled at that revelation. “Can every Descended sense my magic?”
“No. Only the most powerful can sense each other. In Lumnos, there’s only a handful that might feel it. Even those who can won’t know it’s coming from you unless you get close.”
“I see.”
Luther paused, waiting for me to say more. I leaned back and sipped my tea.
His brows pulled inward. “My father issued a formal announcement of the King’s death. He feared waiting would look like we were hiding. I’d hoped to hold off longer, give you more time to settle in...”
I nodded. “I understand.”
“The funeral will be held in a few days. You’ll be expected to be there, but you won’t need to speak or greet anyone. Not
until—”
“The ball. Aemonn told me.”
His lips pressed to a thin line. “How helpful of him.”
“He asked to be my escort.”
Luther looked away, staring at some distant point. The muscles in his jaw twitched.
“I made a mistake,” I said quietly. “I revealed something I shouldn’t have.”
His eyes snapped back to me. He leaned his forearms on the table, hands clasped. “Tell me.”
I set down my cup and took a long, slow breath. “Aemonn was flirting, and I’d been drinking. I got flustered.” My eyes dropped. Even the numbness couldn’t keep this from being painfully awkward. “I told him the mortal man I’m seeing asked me
to marry him.”
Luther sat deathly still.
“Is that... true?” he asked, with some effort.
“Yes.”
A heavy silence passed.
“Have you given him an answer?”
I winced. “Not yet.”
My eyes closed as I braced for his response. For a long time, there was only an excruciating quiet. Then I heard his sigh, and the creak of jostling leather as he shifted in his chair. Then more silence.
Gods, this was worse than a lecture.
He drew in a breath, and I tensed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle Aemonn.”
I looked up to see a face empty of judgment or reproach. Instead, his expression was... gentle. Understanding.
And perhaps a little sad.
“My charming cousin has a strange talent for ferreting out information others would rather keep hidden. It’s happened to everyone in the family at some point. Consider it a House Corbois rite of passage.”
I blinked. Old habits had me wondering at Luther’s motives, but my suspicion quickly dissolved into apathy. Whatever the reason, it felt nice to have a conversation with him that didn’t seem doomed to end in bloodshed.
“Is there any chance Aemonn also has a strange talent for keeping information to himself?” I asked.
Luther huffed a laugh. “I’ll speak with him. I can be quite persuasive if I need to be.”
I sagged back in my chair with a sigh. “Thank you.”
The softness faded from his expression, returning to his trademark focus. “This mortal—does he know about the Crown?”
“Not yet.” I shrugged and looked down. “I don’t even know if he’ll still want to marry me.”
“Now that you’re Queen?”
“Now that I’m a Descended.”
“You’ve always been a Descended.”
“He didn’t know that. I didn’t know that.”
Luther frowned. “You truly didn’t know?”
“Not until last night. I suppose I had suspicions, but I never really believed it.”
“Is that why you were upset?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t—not without tearing down the walls my psyche had so carefully built to keep myself together.
I cleared my throat. I needed a change of subject. “Tell me about my mother.”
His demeanor shifted. He sat up straighter, his hands gripped together, knuckles white where his fingers were interlaced.
“Tell me what you know first.”
“That wasn’t our agreement.”
“I agreed to tell you what I can. I made promises to your mother to keep certain things from you. If I know what y—”
“My mother wanted you to keep secrets from me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He gave me a curious look. “Isn’t it obvious? She must have known what you were.”
“She wouldn’t have kept that from me,” I protested, but even as the words fell from my lips, I no longer believed them.
“She was adamant that you be kept away from our world.”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Then why send your brother to a Descended school? Do you truly believe she cared less for his safety than yours?”
I couldn’t answer. I had asked my mother the same question a hundred times, and her response had always been the same: You’re just going to have to trust me, my little warrior. I know what I’m doing. At the time, I had blamed it on an unjust double standard in the parenting of boys and girls, but now...
“I’m only surprised she got away with it for so long.” Something intense and heady gleamed in his gaze. “I knew the truth the second I saw you. Though, I admit, when Maura swore you were born with brown eyes, I began to doubt. I should have known she would lie to protect you.”
“Maura didn’t lie. I was born with brown eyes.”
His head tilted sharply. “That’s not possible.”
“I remember my own eyes, Luther. And my hair. They were the same color as Teller’s. Besides, the Descended have blue eyes, even the half-mortals.”
“Only the Lumnos Descended. Each of the nine lines has a distinct eye color. Arboros is green, Montios is violet, Fortos is
red—”
“Are any of them grey?”
His jaw worked, looking as if he was chewing on thoughts he wasn’t ready to spit out. “No,” he said, the word feeling unfinished. “But you’re wearing the Blessed Mother’s Crown. And I saw you wield her light and shadows.”
“Maybe the magic made a mistake.”
“The magic doesn’t make mistakes.”
“If it’s so infallible, why does it require that I fight someone to the death to prove myself worthy?”
“It doesn’t,” he said simply. “The Challenging is a modern creation. Before the Blood War, the Houses were constantly assassinating the Crown to gamble at being the next one selected. For a time, it threw the realm into chaos. The Challenging was the compromise that put an end to it. Now the Houses get one shot at taking out a new Crown, and if they fail, they must accept that Crown’s reign without interference.”
“And if I refuse to go along with it? Am I still the Queen?”
“Yes.” His answer was quick and surprisingly forceful. “You are the Queen now and for as long as your lungs draw
breath.”
“But?” I pushed.
“But...” He sighed. “It will be near impossible to see your plans through with no support from the Houses, the other eight Crowns, and the Emarion Army.” His features darkened. “And I have a feeling you have a great many plans you intend to see through.”
My eyes thinned as I weighed his response. Were those words of advice—or another coded threat?
He rose and strolled around the table, then leaned down to brace his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in place. My heartbeat stumbled at his nearness.
“Whatever those plans are, Your Majesty,” he rumbled, “I can help. I will find a way to prove that to you.”
I pressed against the high back of my seat, fighting to keep distance between us. “You have the most to gain from my failure.
Why should I trust you?”
“Your mother trusted me.”
“No, my mother blackmailed you. And now she’s likely dead because of it.”
“I helped your mother long before she knew my secrets. And I very much doubt she is dead.”
Deep within my spirit, a faded spark glowed back to life and sliced through the shadows—a hope reborn.
I laid my palms against his chest and pressed him back as I shot to my feet. “She’s alive? You’re sure?”
“I know nothing for certain. But knowing where she was headed when she left... yes, I’d bet she’s still alive.”
My pulse picked up so quickly the room began to spin. “Where did she go? Is she still there? Is she—”
He grasped my shoulders, gently nudging me back toward my seat. “Tell me what you know first.”
“Luther, please—”
“Sit.”
My eyes were pleading, desperate, but his steely resolve warned me begging would gain me no ground.
I slumped back into my chair.
“Tell me what you know,” he said again.
“I know you arranged the bargain between my mother and the King so Teller could attend the Descended school, but only if
my mother worked for the King for the rest of her life. Not just as a healer, but whatever the King demanded.”
He looked at me oddly. “And?”
“And I know you were arguing with her the day she left. She threatened to release your secret if you didn’t agree to her
demands.”
“And?”
I swallowed. “And that’s all.”
“That’s what you know?” His brows drew low. “You don’t know the secret? Or how she found it? Do you even know who she was working with?”
My cheeks turned hot. How could he know so much more about my mother than I did?
He scrubbed at his jaw, his calm beginning to fracture. “I thought she would at least... when you said you were taking over for her, I thought...” He raked a hand through his hair, several black strands falling loose from where he’d tied it back.
“Luther,” I snapped, once again on my feet. “Tell me where she is.”
He began to pace, hands clasped tight at his back. Every time I tried to block his path, he simply changed course. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye.
“I thought there was at least something I could tell you without breaking my promise,” he mumbled. “Fuck, you’re going to hate me for this, but I can’t.”
The numbness gave way to panic as I felt the answers I so deeply longed for slipping out of my grasp. “But—but you said —you swore!”
“I said I would tell you what I was at liberty to share. I didn’t realize...” He looked genuinely pained. “There’s too much you don’t know. Anything I say would betray her.”
Last night’s despair roared back to life, opening a pit at my feet and dragging me toward its edge. I shot forward and threw myself at Luther. I clutched at his chest, his muscles hard as granite beneath my frantic grip. He was my only tether to my mother, and I clung to him like a lifeline in stormy seas.
“Please, Luther. She’s my mother. I need her.”
Something in both of us broke.
I felt it viscerally. On Luther’s face, I saw a darkness so profound, my heart squeezed at the sight. Something in my words had awoken a buried trauma that haunted him as profoundly as my mother’s loss haunted me.
His heart hammered beneath my trembling palm. He spoke haltingly, like each word was a battle he had to fight and win, one at a time.
“There was no bargain. Auralie wanted your brother in a Descended school, and I agreed, because—” His shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. There was never a payment. The agreement was a pretense so no one would ask questions. The King didn’t even know about it. Only me. Then...”
He hesitated, and I held my breath. I didn’t dare move for fear that he would change his mind.
“I caught your mother spying. She was collecting information from the palace. I discovered it and confronted her.”
“The argument,” I gasped. “When I saw you—”
“No. This was earlier, months before. I was furious with her. I wanted to ban her from the palace, but she and I had—” He looked down, his throat working. “—a mutual goal I couldn’t ignore. So I let her stay, and I helped her.”
My mother was spying on the King.
And Luther had helped her. He could have had her killed for treason—but he’d helped her.
His hands curled gently behind my arms, our bodies woven together in a strange, intimate embrace. He held me in place as firmly as I clung to him, each of us silently begging the other not to run away.
“The day you saw us arguing, she asked for my help. She wanted to visit a place where mortals are forbidden, and she
knew I could get her there.”
“Where?”
The light guttered in his eyes. “I cannot tell you. I’m sorry. That’s a line I will not cross.”
“No!” My fingers bunched in the folds of his shirt. After all this time, I was so close to finding her. I would beg, if I had to.
I would cry or humiliate myself, I would throw myself at his feet. For this, I was above nothing. “I’m your Queen. Shouldn’t your loyalty be to me?”
“It is to you. More than you know.” His piercing stare burned with a fierce insistence. “I will accept whatever punishment you give. Lash me. Throw me in the dungeon. Banish me from the family. Exile me, if you must. But I made a promise.” His face lowered almost imperceptibly to mine. “And I keep my promises, my Queen. Whatever the cost.”
The Diem of yesterday would have annihilated him. With words or blades or magic, or maybe all three. I would have screamed and sworn to make him pay.
But the Diem of yesterday had asked Luther to make a promise, too—a promise that guarded everything I held dear.
Luther’s word was the only guarantee I had that, even if this damn Crown got me killed, the people I loved would be safe.
And as hard as I tried to summon the rage I had grown so accustomed to, I couldn’t do it. I could not hate Luther for keeping
his promises. Not anymore.
“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to tell me where she is?”
His head gave the slightest shake. “I’m sorry.”
His grip resisted as I pulled away, though he let me go. I turned my back to him and walked to the table where the breakfast
spread lay forgotten.
“Go. Leave me be.”
A long moment passed with no words and no movement from either of us. Finally, his footsteps crossed the room to the exit and paused, followed by the sound of a door cracking open.
“I will not break my promise, but I can give you this,” he said. “If she isn’t back by year end, I’ll go get her and bring her to you myself. You have my word.”
My heart leapt. The end of the year was two months away. If I could survive the Challenging and make it through the coronation...
I whirled around to respond, but Luther was already gone.
