Chapter 42
Chapter
Forty-Two
H ours later, after the sun had crested in the sky, the coastline of Lumnos emerged on the horizon. Winter had turned its emerald forests into a gloomy cluster of lifeless branches that reminded me far too much of the poison spreading beneath Luther’s skin.
“Thank the Blessed Kindred,” Alixe said.
“Thank Diem and Sorae,” Taran muttered.
The others had taken turns catching what little sleep they could, though I’d declined. I sensed Sorae’s exhaustion and knew she needed the help of my wind, and with the Umbros Queen’s fate unknown and Luther’s feverish body burning hot at my back, there was no hope of me getting any rest.
“We’re home,” I murmured against his temple, where his head lay asleep on my shoulder. He didn’t move, so I squeezed his hand, which had fallen limp on my thigh. “Luther, look—I can see the palace.”
Still, he did not stir.
“Luther?” I said again, louder.
He didn’t answer. Taran and I shared an anxious look.
Taran gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him upright. Luther’s head lolled forward, chin to his chest, unmoving.
Taran gave him a hard jerk. “Cousin, wake up.”
“What’s wrong?” Alixe asked, her voice strained. “Is... is he...?”
I spun around and cupped his jaw. I heaved out a relieved breath at the feel of his pulse beneath my hand, but it was too slow, too weak.
“He’s unconscious.” My eyes darted around his face, taking in his grey pallor and the pale color of his lips. I looked down to see a steady flow of red streaming along his leg. “He’s bleeding too heavily. He needs fresh gauze and medicine and...”
A miracle.
He needed a miracle.
I turned forward, pressing a hand to Sorae’s neck. “I know you’re tired girl, but—”
She trilled her agreement before I could finish and furiously beat her wings to push us forward. Breath after shuddering breath, I fought to slow my panicked heart to match her cadence.
As we passed over Mortal City, people scurried outside to marvel at the return of their missing Queen. And they weren’t alone—soldiers in Emarion Army uniforms dotted the main streets, and a barricade ten heads deep blocked the road to Lumnos City. Even in the back alleys of Paradise Row, I spied glimpses of their ominous presence.
I looked back at Alixe. “Were there this many soldiers when you left?”
She shook her head, her expression as flinty as mine.
Near the palace, an unbroken ring of them circled the royal grounds, and large groups were stacked at each palace entrance. Every last one turned to watch as we approached.
Finally, finally , Sorae glided to a halt on her perch outside my suite. I pushed off her side and slammed to the ground. “Get Luther to my bed and get his clothing off. Alixe, come with me.”
Inside, my desk was still cluttered with the baubles and cosmetics Eleanor had set out the morning of my Coronation. I shoved them haphazardly to the floor and grabbed some ink and paper.
My hands trembled as I tried to scribble a list of medicines, but all that arose were illegible words, half-formed thoughts, and impossible-to-fulfill requests. What should have been second nature felt like dreaming in a foreign language.
I swore and folded it up, then shoved it into Alixe’s hands. “Go into Mortal City and find Maura. Tell her what happened, and tell her to bring what’s on this list. No, wait—tell her to bring everything . My mother’s notes, too. And—”
She nodded sharply. “I understand.”
We ran back to Sorae. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to her muzzle, sending her my orders—and a plea to do it all as quickly as her worn-out wings could bear.
“She knows where to go,” I shouted at Alixe. “If the soldiers try to stop you—” Our eyes locked. “—do whatever you have to do.”
She thumped a fist to her chest in salute. A moment later, they were gone.
I shot back into the room and peered over Taran’s shoulder as he sliced the clothes from Luther’s body. The web of veins had grown thicker and darker, now stretching to his feet and past the bend of his jaw. The skin around his wound looked as if it were coated in tar.
Only the space over his heart remained untouched. I clung to the foolish hope that that meant something, anything , that might spare him from what now seemed inescapable.
“Diem?”
My head snapped around at the sound of my brother’s voice. He stood at the door to my bedchamber, bright-eyed and grinning.
“You’re home,” he cried out.
We ran to each other and collided in a bone-crushing hug, a balm I’d badly needed. The fragile pillars of glass I’d been erecting to stop my plummet into the dark, depthless pit of fear that yawed open beneath me—they fortified to steel the second we touched. My brother’s steady strength flowed into me and restored me at a more profound level than any magic ever had.
He pulled back and gripped me by the shoulders. “Thank the gods you’re alright. He told me you were, but I was too scared to believe it.”
“Who told you?”
“Luther. He sent a messenger hawk from Umbros to let me know you were safe.”
My heart squeezed. Of course he had.
Teller’s eyes roamed over me, taking in the ruby-encrusted gown I was still wearing from dinner, the tear-streaked kohl that stained my cheeks, and the crusted blood all over my skin from Luther’s wounds.
“By the Flames, D. What happened? ”
My body drooped at the weight of that story—a story that was still unfolding behind me.
“I’ll tell you everything soon. Right now I need to focus on—”
A scream ripped through the room. A heart-wrenched, soul-shattering cry, a hot knife that seared straight through my chest.
“ Luther? ” Lily choked out. She stared, horrified, at the bed, her round eyes already full with burgeoning tears.
Teller looked at me in alarm. The sight of my anguish answered the question he didn’t ask.
Taran stepped forward to block her view. “You shouldn’t see this, Lil. Let us clean him up first.”
Her hands flew to her mouth as a sob cracked out. “Is—is he...? Did he...?”
I ran to grab her arm and spun her to face me. “He’s alive, just ill. I know it looks bad, but he’s going to be fine. I’m going to heal him.”
“Diem,” Taran rumbled in warning.
She looked between me and her brother, bottom lip quivering. “You can do that? You can save him?”
I knew the right thing to do was to be honest. This would be hard enough on Lily as it was. But admitting the truth to her meant admitting it to myself, and that was something I couldn’t yet bring myself to do.
Though I also couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes as I answered, “Yes, I can.”
“ Diem ,” Taran said again.
“What?” I snapped at him. “I never gave up on saving you, did I?”
Muscles twitched on his forearms as his fists clenched at his side. He ground his teeth. “Fine. What can we do to help?”
I immediately put them to work—Zalaric filling a basin of warm water, Taran gathering soap and clean gauze, and Teller and Lily collecting the medicinal herbs I’d planted in the palace garden. Though their doubts were unmissable, I could also tell they were grateful for the distraction of being useful.
They set off to complete their tasks, and for a brief moment, Luther and I were alone. I gingerly slid onto the bed beside him and brushed back the hair from his face.
He still looked so formidable. His sharp jaw was a weapon, his scar a banner of war. He was a warrior. My warrior. Ever ready to face my enemies in battle—and now, that enemy was death.
I set a kiss on his lips, hating the stillness I felt in response. Would I ever again feel the dominant crush of his mouth on mine, the possessive tug of his fingers in my hair, that fiery passion that was a twin flame to my own? Would I get to see the sliver of sunlight that was his true smile, the hard-won joy he so rarely let shine?
“Come back to me,” I begged. My hand shifted to the unblemished patch of skin above his heart.
I knew it , he’d said. You can wield all the Kindred’s magic.
He’d seen it in me before I’d seen it in myself. All the way back to Ignios, when he’d braved the flames engulfing me to get to my side, knowing they were mine—and knowing they would not hurt the man I loved.
And if he was right about me healing Lily, there was a chance I could heal him, too.
I poured my magic into him, hoping my godhood understood what I could not. It tingled through my palm and into his chest, cascading around him in an anxious search.
It wanted to help him, in its own way and for its own reasons. Though it was weakened from how much I’d used during our long flight home, it pulsed with a shared urgency, as if it knew some essential part of us burned in him, and if it extinguished, so too might we.
As my magic pushed deeper, Luther’s godhood rose gratefully to meet it. Side-by-side, they hummed a cryptic harmony, locked in that same strange ethereal dance that had always drawn us closer for reasons unknown.
I felt the godstone in him, too. It was death given physical form, a ruinous substance that leeched the life from all it touched. It wove through bone, flesh, and tendon, and where it stretched, tissue withered and decayed. Luther’s blood seemed to flee from it, rushing to his wound and oozing out in a last, desperate attempt to escape the coffin his body had become.
My magic shuddered as I urged it closer. I briefly leapt with joy as I sensed his organs mending, but the damage returned as quickly as it healed. When I tried to fight the poison directly, my godhood hissed and recoiled as if burnt, and no amount of pleading could persuade it to hold on.
The true devastation came when I finally reached his heart. Tendrils of blackened death enclosed it in a shrinking cage. Miraculously, it was still strong, its flesh healthy and alive despite being surrounded by death. It thumped valiantly in defiance, determined to keep his promise to me to fight , but it was suffocating under the godstone’s unrelenting might, and my magic seemed powerless to help.
My hope guttered. If I didn’t find some way to relieve the pressure soon, even Luther’s warrior heart would fall.
I reluctantly withdrew my magic. I flinched as I felt Luther’s godhood cling to mine, begging us to stay. To save them both.
“Diem? I just heard the good news that you’re ba—oh. Is that...? Oh... Oh, no...”
Near the door, Eleanor’s hands were at her chest, her lovely face twisted in sorrow.
“It can’t be,” she whispered. “Not him .”
“He’s going to be fine,” I rasped. My throat constricted as grief crowded every hollow place inside me. “A healer’s on the way. She’ll mend him.”
She eyed Luther’s poisoned body, her sapphire gaze heavy with disagreement. She walked over and sat down at my side, then folded my hand in hers.
“I’ll stay with you,” she said. “Until he’s... better.”
We said no more. Taran and Zalaric returned, then Zalaric helped me wash the blood from Luther’s skin while Taran and Eleanor embraced and murmured quietly in a corner.
I knew what they were discussing—the truths they were admitting. But I forced my eyes to divert, and I hummed to fill my ears. For now, I needed the lie.
After a while, they returned, and Eleanor nestled beside me while Taran sat at Luther’s side, hand resting on his friend’s arm. I continued my ministrations as the silence thickened.
At the sound of approaching wings, the four of us jumped to our feet.
“Diem!” Maura cried, sounding as relieved as she was panicked. She was flat on her stomach behind Alixe, where she clung to Sorae’s back with a green face and bone-white knuckles.
I eased her to the ground. She wobbled in my arms, gawking up at Sorae.
“I just flew,” she gasped. “To the palace. On a gryvern . It didn’t even try to eat me! And you, you’re...” She seemed to catch her composure and straightened, her eyes scouring me tip to toe. “She said you were bleeding badly. Where is the wound?”
I frowned and glanced at Alixe, who cringed. “I told her you were the one injured. I thought it might give her more motivation to bring every treatment she could.”
Perhaps it was a terribly cruel lie, but I couldn’t have been more grateful to Alixe for it if I tried.
Maura scowled. “You’re not injured?”
“No. It’s Luther, he’s...” My voice broke, and Maura’s anger softened.
“Show me,” she insisted.
Our years as healers had desensitized us both to all manner of gruesome injuries. We had become skilled at controlling our reactions, knowing patients and their families would watch with eagle eyes, judging their loved one’s fate from our expressions alone. On a normal day, even the most brutal of wounds could barely earn a raised eyebrow.
Though Maura hesitated for only the briefest moment as she took him in, that split second—a tic downward of her lips, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it bulge of her eyes—sent my heart spiraling.
I rattled off every detail I knew of his injury and treatment, then I found his satchel and dumped its contents across the floor. I snatched up the herbs he’d bought in Umbros and painstakingly recreated the poultice I’d used successfully on Taran.
Maura listened, asking the occasional question but otherwise saying nothing. She examined Luther’s wound, his pulse, his eyes, his breathing. Through it all, I hovered an inch away, flinching each time she touched him.
Her eyes darted to me. “You said he’s seen a Fortos healer already?”
“Yes. Yesterday, in Umbros. And...” I paused. “Here. Just a moment ago.”
The others exchanged confused looks, though Taran, who’d been close enough to hear Luther’s revelation about my magic, met my eyes with a glint of understanding.
“And they weren’t able to help?” Maura asked.
“The toxin doesn’t respond to magical healing. It needs to be drawn out some other way.”
She examined the herbs I’d used, still offering only vague hums and thoughtful, drawn-out stares.
“The poultice that worked—I used water from a spring in Ignios. Perhaps the spring had some healing quality. I can go back and get more—”
“No,” Taran and Alixe said in unison.
I glanced to Sorae, wrestling over whether she could make another long journey—and who we might encounter on the way.
“Your Majesty,” Alixe said gently, “Luther wouldn’t want you to do that.”
“We barely made it out of there alive the first time,” Taran said.
“I don’t care,” I muttered.
He stepped toward me and growled. “ Luther would care. If something happened to you... you know he’d rather die than live with that.”
I echoed his movement, meeting his challenge with a glare. “When he wakes up and tells me that himself, I’ll take it into consideration. Until then, it’s my life to risk.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Maura rushed out. She placed a hand on my back and nudged me toward the door. “You must be tired from your journey. Why don’t you rest while I tend to the Prince?”
My bones went rod-straight. “I’m not tired.”
“Then why don’t you tidy yourself up? Perhaps a nice warm bath?”
“Maura, I’m not leaving.”
“ Diem .”
For a moment, it was my mother standing in front of me. Not in the kind, parental manner Maura had taken to treating me with since my mother’s disappearance, but in a real, all-too-visceral way.
My mother’s unyielding tone, leaving no room for argument. Her age-worn face, her stern yet patient stare. Those golden-brown eyes that felt like the warmest hug when they crinkled.
And I missed her. Gods , did I miss her.
“Please,” I whispered. “I can’t lose him, too.”
Deep lines carved across her forehead as understanding dawned. Long ago, she’d teased me over the apparent interest of a brooding Prince. My despair was proof there was a great deal more between us now than interest .
Eleanor took my arm. “Why don’t you sit with me? We’ll pull up some chairs in here by the fire.”
I took up her offer before Maura could object. Eleanor carefully eased me into a chair—facing away from Luther. Zalaric and Alixe joined us while Taran stayed back to help Maura maneuver Luther’s unconscious body.
Eleanor peppered me with questions about our journey to keep me distracted. I couldn’t muster more than a handful of words to each, and the others eventually chimed in to fill in the details.
As they talked, I gazed blankly into the hearth and lost myself in the dance of the fire. Perhaps subconsciously, I threw my magic into it, and it swelled to engulf the fireplace, hot flames licking at the stone mantle’s edge. The others jumped, startled, and eyed me with uncertainty.
In the orange-red glow of the blaze, Luther’s face kept staring back at me. The inferno during the armory attack. The dragonfyre in the Arboros clearing. The explosions in the Guardians’ camp. The wall of flames on the beach in Ignios.
In some ways, it was fire that had brought us together. Fire that had forged us—melted us down, welded us together, and hardened us into a single, indomitable force.
Fire that would receive him, if I failed—the Undying Fire of the sacred Everflame, the final resting place for worthy souls.
If only fire could also save him.
My hand absently rose to my throat as I thought of the phoenix medallion he had gifted me. I stood to retrieve it when shouting voices came from the main salon.
“You can’t go in there!”
“This is my palace, I can go wherever I want.”
“Those are Her Majesty’s personal quarters.”
“Father, please, wait—”
The door to my bedchamber slammed open and bounced off the stone wall. Luther’s father, Remis, stepped inside, followed by Remis’s wife, Avana, then Lily, Teller, and Perthe, the Descended who had devoted himself to my service after I’d saved his life by dragging him from the burning armory.
“Your Majesty, you’re back,” Perthe gasped, dropping to a knee in salute.
“Indeed, you are,” Remis murmured. He offered only a curt nod as his eyes trailed me in scrutiny before sweeping across the rest of the room.
Teller grabbed Lily’s wrist and tugged her over to me. “Sorry,” he muttered. “He saw us coming back from the gardens and followed us.”
I gestured to Perthe to stand, and he rose, rushing to my side.
“I stayed with your brother the whole time you were gone, Your Majesty,” he vowed. “I never left him, not even for a second.”
“He sure didn’t,” Teller said with a scowl.
“Thank you, Perthe,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Your loyalty is greatly appreciated.”
Lily handed over a basket of garden cuttings. I traded it for a grateful, albeit strained, smile and hurried to set it at Maura’s side.
“I thought we could try adding the star nettle and blushroom to a drawing salve,” I rushed out. “I don’t think it’s been done before, but—”
“Is that... godstone? ” Avana shrieked. She and Remis stood at the foot of the bed, looking equally pale. “Blessed Kindred, he’s going to die.”
Lily walked to Luther and took his hand. “No, Mother. Diem and Maura are going to save him.”
Maura looked at her, then at me, frowning.
Remis stared down at his son with a haunted look. His head shook slowly. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It’s too late. No one can save him now.”
“That’s what you thought when he got his scar too, wasn’t it?” I said coldly. “Yet here he is.”
He stiffened. “Luther told you?”
“Oh, he told me everything.” My wrath-darkened gaze flitted briefly to Avana. “ Everything . And you better hope that when he’s healed, he’s willing to ask for my mercy on your behalf.”
Several eyebrows raised as Remis glanced uneasily at the now-crowded room. His eyes paused and sharpened on Zalaric. “Who are you?”
He raised his angled jaw. “My name is Zalaric Hanoverre. I’m an old friend of Luther’s.”
Remis’s brows carved inward. “I know every member of House Hanoverre. Why have I never heard of you?”
My hackles raised, but Zalaric was unruffled.
“I’m a half-mortal,” he said matter-of-factly. “I escaped to Umbros as a child. I’ve been living there until now.”
“And he’s here at my invitation,” I added.
“You brought a Hanoverre bastard to Lumnos?” Remis hissed. “Do you have any idea what they’ll do if they find him?”
“I know all about their pureblood pride,” I said, rolling my eyes at the memory. Even House Hanoverre’s sigil, a white rose with a single red drop, symbolized their obsession with keeping mortals out of their bloodline. Zalaric’s mere existence would be scandal enough—his invitation to the palace would be a drama for the ages. “He’s under the protection of the Crown, so they better not do anything, unless they wish to declare war on me and on House Corbois.”
“Everyone has already declared war on us—or have you already forgotten what happened at your Challenging?”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten at all.” I smiled sweetly. “House Hanoverre best not forget, either.”
“And they don’t need to find me,” Zalaric piped up. “I intend to find them myself.”
Remis pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved out an irritated sigh, then looked again at his son. To my surprise, some of the heat cooled from his expression. “Why is she here?” he asked, pointing to Maura. “We should send for a Fortos healer.”
“Godstone doesn’t respond to magic,” I said. “Only a mortal remedy can stop it.”
“And she has one that will work?”
Maura and I exchanged a silent look.
I came around and inserted myself between Remis and the bed. “We’re giving her space to work—which means you can leave.”
“I’m staying here.”
“No, you’re not.”
Remis didn’t budge. “It wasn’t a request. I’m staying with him.”
“The hell you are. He wouldn’t want you here.” Gloves of sizzling light coated my hands and forearms. “But you’re welcome to fight me for it, if you’d like.”
I flashed a cold smile to remind him of our shared secret—that ever since he’d lost his magic from our broken bargain at the Challenging, he was powerless against me. Against anyone .
He flexed his jaw. “Luther and I have our differences, but he’s still my son. Whatever you think of me and my methods, I do care for my family. Everything I’ve done is to protect them. Even Luther would tell you the same.”
I glared at him, and he glared back, the room silent except for the magic crackling at my palms.
My resolve wavered. Family was my weakness—a weakness Remis surely knew and was exploiting at my expense.
But Luther despised his father. Remis had insulted him, threatened him, scarred him. He’d murdered Luther’s mortal mother and nearly killed him in the process. If this truly was Luther’s end, he deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, not the man who’d caused him so much pain.
“Your Majesty?”
Lily’s soft voice called out to me as she walked to join her parents. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. “Let them stay. Please? For me?”
Avana put an arm around Lily’s shoulders, and Remis clasped his daughter’s hand.
Thoughts of my own mother and father bombarded my wounded heart. I swallowed hard. “Of course, Lily. Anything for you.”
She threw me a grateful smile and, cleverly, led them away to a seating area far across the room.
I flicked away my magic and turned back to the bed. As I stared at Luther’s tainted skin, the darkness that covered it seemed to leech inside my own soul.
Teller and Taran appeared on either side of me. Teller put a hand on my shoulder, a gesture so much like our father. The gruff familiarity of it almost did me in.
Taran crossed his arms. “Lu’s going to be pissed he missed that showdown between you and Remis.”
“I’ll be happy to put on another one any time he wants.”
He huffed a laugh, then looked down. “I’ll go to Ignios and get more water from that spring, if you think it will help. You should stay here. He’ll want to see you if—” He paused, clearing his throat. “—when he wakes up.”
I leaned my head against Taran’s shoulder. “Let me think about it,” I murmured. Risking my life for a wild guess was one thing; risking Taran’s was another. “Maybe there’s a better way.”
Burns still coated his arms from our battle over the sea. I placed a palm against his skin and let my magic soak into him. He shivered as the welts flattened, then faded, then disappeared, taking with them the last hint of his godstone wounds from Arboros, as well. We exchanged a silent, loaded look, but said nothing more of it, and after a long moment, his head arched over to rest against mine.
Zalaric came to stand at his other side and subtly hooked a finger around Taran’s, and Eleanor and Alixe gathered close to Teller. The six of us stood in wordless vigil, each of us lost in our own murky shades of grief and fear and the unknown.
“I never told him I love him,” I whispered. “What if I never get the chance?”
“He knows,” Taran said firmly.
Alixe and Eleanor nodded, and Teller’s hand tightened on my shoulder.
Much time passed as Maura slipped countless mixtures into Luther’s mouth and onto his wound. She sat at his side and joined our watch, waiting to see if any of them might have an effect.
Eventually, she began repacking her bags and giving me furtive glances that said we needed to talk. Bile rose in my throat at what that conversation would bring.
I extricated myself from my friends and walked with her out to the balcony. Sorae was flopped on her side, resting but not sleeping, her golden gaze flitting between her Queen and her Prince.
Maura turned to me and took both my hands in hers. “I’ve done all I can, my dear. I’ve used all my strongest remedies. His body simply isn’t responding.” Her eyes began to water. “If there was anything I could do, anything at all, you know I would do it for you. You’ve already lost too much.”
I blinked at her, feeling suddenly numb.
She placed a hand on my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Diem. It’s time to say your goodbyes.”
I blinked again. “Did you bring my mother’s notes?”
“I did. I left them on the table by the bed. I’ve already been through them, though. There’s nothing—”
“Thank you.” I stared at her blankly. “What do I owe you for the visit?”
She gave me an anguished look. “Nothing, dear.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue. I made a mental note to send a pouch of gold later and shot a silent request to Sorae, who dragged herself tiredly to her feet.
“Are you alright returning by gryvern?” I looked out over the balcony. “I could arrange a horse, but with all the soldiers on the streets...”
“Gryvern is fine,” she rushed out, though she jumped as Sorae shook out her matted fur.
I helped her load onto Sorae’s back and murmured a request in my gryvern’s ear to fly gently. As I stepped back, Maura reached forward and grabbed my wrist. She slipped something cold and glassy in my palm, then curled my fingers around it and patted the back of my hand.
“If his condition declines,” was all she said.
I backed away as Sorae took flight and the two of them shrank on the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky, but there was no sign of the usual jewel tones of sunset. Only an infinite expanse of dreary grey.
I walked to the edge of the balcony and unfurled my palm on the stone balustrade. Inside was a small jar with a blue-green liquid I recognized. A sleeping draught—our most powerful one. It would cut through pain, no matter how excruciating, and offer the patient blissful relief from their misery.
It would also slow their heart and lungs. Only a little, if given no more than a drop. But if given more, it was a painless way to ease a terminal patient into the release of death.
A final mercy for a soul already lost.