Chapter 69
Chapter
Sixty-Nine
“ I owe you my thanks for saving my city,” Doriel said, strolling beside me. After confirming Teller was safe, I’d joined them to survey the damage and check on survivors.
“I don’t deserve the credit,” I said. “You risked your life to lead Ophiucae away, and your guards fought bravely here.”
Their smile had a touch of pride. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with them yet, but I’m happy to see our losses were few. I suspect I have you to thank for that, as well.”
I held my tongue. Doriel might not be so grateful once they found out the full story of what I’d done with Vance and the surviving rebels.
“I’ve sent a messenger hawk to Umbros to recall the army soldiers I sent away,” they said.
“Good. I’ll stay until they arrive, in case Ophiucae returns.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Doriel winced. “It’s not an easy thing, as a Crown, to admit that I can’t keep my people safe on my own.”
“You know, many of your citizens joined the fight, too. I can see how much they care for this place. They were willing to die to defend it.”
“Even the mortals,” Luther added from a pace behind us. “When they realized the insurgents wouldn’t hurt them, several came out to protect their Descended neighbors.”
Our eyes met, and Luther’s lips quirked up in his usual subtle, secret smile. My heart squeezed at the painful reminder that I might have never seen it again.
“There aren’t many places in Emarion where mortals and Descended would fight for each other rather than against each other,” I admitted. “You’ve done more to safeguard them than you think.”
Doriel’s eyebrows rose. “So you no longer believe we only bring mortals here to kill them?”
I cringed. “I owe you an apology. I spoke to my brother. I still have concerns, but I realize now there was more to the story than I knew.”
“I suppose I owe you the same apology for my accusations.” Their gaze ticked briefly above my head. “There’s more to you than I thought, as well.”
My muscles tensed. I’d forgotten to hide away my Crown after Ophiucae pulled it out of me. If anyone knew what the Crown of Lumnos was supposed to look like, it was Doriel.
They clasped their hands behind their back. “I’m sending messenger hawks to the Crowns this evening.”
“Good idea,” I said brightly, trying to mask my nerves. “We must stay on our guard for more attacks.”
“The message I’m sending isn’t about the attack. It’s about you .”
I stopped still. “A warning?”
“A summons.” They turned to me. “To complete your coronation. With this man coming after us, it’s too great a risk to let the Forging magic continue to break down. I can’t promise the Crowns will agree to the pardons you seek, but you’ll at least have the chance to make your case.”
“And will you vote in my favor?” I asked hesitantly.
Slowly, they nodded. “I will. And I’ll try to persuade Meros, as well.”
“Doriel, thank you so much. Truly. I—”
“Don’t thank me yet. I have one condition.” Their expression hardened. “I’m going to ask you a question Diem, and if I don’t believe you’re telling me the truth, I’m rescinding my offer, and you’ll get no vote from me. Ever .” The tension between us struck up anew. “If I send hawks to Montios and Fortos... those messages won’t reach their Kings, will they?”
My shoulders fell with a sigh. “No. They won’t.”
Again, their gaze rose above my head. “But their Crown will be at the ritual, won’t she?”
I swallowed. Nodded. “She will.”
Doriel blew out a heavy breath. “Blessed Kindred, how is this possible? Three Crowns. And Fortos—they’ve never had a Queen.”
“I don’t know, either. I don’t even want them. I’d give all three back, if I could do it without dying.”
Liar , my conscience whispered.
“I wonder...” A touch of suspicion surfaced as Doriel looked me over. “If you can absorb magic, maybe that’s how you stole the Crowns, too.”
“The Crowns weren’t stolen,” Luther cut in. “Blessed Mother Lumnos told me to serve Diem as my Queen. And I was there when Blessed Fortos spoke through the King. He acknowledged he was selecting a Queen for the first time. Blessed Montios, too—she left a message for Diem through the late King.” His eyes narrowed on Doriel. “Those Crowns belong to Diem. The Kindred chose her.”
They rubbed at their mouth, looking thoughtful. “But why? The Kindred created the nine Crowns for this very reason—to keep any one person from becoming too powerful.”
“Maybe they saw what the Crowns have done to the continent, and they lost faith in the lot of you.”
Doriel balked. “What have I done?”
Luther prowled closer, his menacing power rolling in waves from his skin. “I know you’ve got every word of scripture memorized, Doriel. Tell me, did the Blessed Kindred command the Crowns to exile the mortals—or protect them?” Doriel opened their mouth to speak, and Luther growled to cut them off. “My Queen wishes to unite. The rest of you only divide. Perhaps the Kindred have had enough of your heresy.”
I pursed my lips, trying not to think about the heat sparking in my blood at my Prince coming so forcefully to my defense.
“Sophos chose not to replace Doriel as the Crown,” I said, opting for diplomacy for perhaps the first time in my life. “Surely that means the Kindred want us to work together.”
Doriel straightened their jacket with a huff. “Yes. Exactly. And I agreed to help you, did I not?”
“We’re very grateful. Aren’t we, Prince?” I shot a stern look at Luther, who glowered and folded his arms over his chest.
“I’ll call a ritual to be held in two days’ time,” Doriel said. “You’ll get word to your mother to ensure the Guardians give us access to Coeur?le?”
“I will,” I lied. Tentative alliance aside, I didn’t trust Doriel not to follow any message I sent. I’d just have to hope she accomplished her side of our plan on our own.
“Doriel, there’s something else...” My head cocked. “Just before the battle, you made a comment about a ‘lost realm.’”
Their lips pressed to a thin, pale line. “Did I?”
“And I know you’ve seen this symbol before,” I said, tapping the mark at my neck. “I could sense your lie with my Umbros magic.”
They blanched. “That information is deeply confidential, on the orders of the Blessed Father himself. Even the other Crowns do not know it.”
“Make an exception,” I pleaded. “If I’m going to defeat Ophiucae, I have to know everything.”
They frowned, then glanced at the crowded streets and jerked their chin in an invitation to follow. Luther fell back as Doriel led me to a quiet nook.
“I know very little, and that’s the truth,” they began, their voice hushed. “All the records were destroyed. I only know what’s been passed from Crown to Crown and the few details I’ve found in my research.”
“The records of what? ”
Their face turned solemn. “The tenth Kindred.”
A wave of icy shock splashed over me. Hair prickled on my nape, all my senses on high alert, as if my body somehow knew there was a grave danger merely in knowing this truth.
“There was another Kindred?” I asked.
“The youngest, a brother. He had a Crown and a realm of his own in between Sophos and Montios, but he died a few years after the original Forging. The remaining nine Kindred recast the spell and allocated that land to Montios.”
“The Forgotten Lands,” I murmured. “That’s why its Forging magic felt like it didn’t belong.”
Doriel nodded. “They tore down his portal at the Kindred’s Temple and had all maps of the continent redrawn. Anything that referenced him was burned or rewritten. They even tried to kill his gryvern, but it escaped and went into hiding.”
“Why would they do that? Why not let his Crown pass on to his heirs?”
“They believed he had no offspring to inherit his Crown.” Doriel’s eyes roved over me. “Apparently, they were mistaken.”
I staggered back a step. “You think I come from the tenth Kindred?”
“Ophiucae clearly did. It’s the only way he could have the tenth Crown and its gryvern. And his sigil, the star—the only other place I’ve seen it is on a carving at the Kindred’s Temple where the tenth portal once stood. And if you’re his daughter...”
I leaned back against a wall as my thoughts exploded in confused, directionless havoc. “The tenth Kindred... do you know his name?”
Doriel shifted uneasily. “They called him Omnos.”
The name struck a bolt of lightning straight into my godhood. It jerked wildly, trembling with fear and kneeling in reverence. It ballooned to fill my body with heady, eager power, then shrunk away with a gnawing dread. The whiplash of it set my head spinning.
“You recognize the name?” Doriel asked.
“No,” I said, hoarse and breathless. “But I think my godhood does.”
They nodded matter-of-factly, as if my reaction confirmed it. “That must be why traces of the tenth realm remained in the Forging magic. If Ophiucae was hiding with Omnos’s Crown, the recasting of the Forging spell would not have been completely successful. And that would explain why you’re both so powerful, since there are only two of you.” They paused. “Two that we know of.”
I trembled at the possibility that there could be others like me somewhere, hiding in the shadows.
“How did Omnos die?” I asked.
“I... I’m not sure.”
My Umbros magic tingled.
“ Doriel ,” I warned.
They sighed. “I only have theories. There are references to the Kindred making a great personal sacrifice to protect the mortals after the Forging. The details were lost to history, but over the years, some Sophos Crowns speculated that sacrifice was Omnos.”
I balked. “You think the Kindred murdered their own brother?”
“He was the only Kindred who didn’t take a mate, so he never gave up his immortality like the others. He would have lived forever. And if he was immune to magic and could also steal their magic...” Doriel’s stare cut warily to me. “I can see how that might make even the Kindred scared. Perhaps they feared what he might do once they were gone.”
“If no one knew Omnos had children, how did Ophiucae end up imprisoned on Coeur?le?” I shot them a firm look. “I know you know something about that, too.”
Doriel winced at being caught. “I know less than you think. Only one clue—a map of the island marking the hidden door with a note that it should never be opened for any reason. It’s dated just after the Blood War—he must have been imprisoned around then.”
Gods... Ophiucae hadn’t just been in that cell for years. He’d been there for centuries .
“The Montios King and Umbros Queen were alive during the Blood War. You never asked them for details?”
“Of course I did, but Umbros refuses to speak to me. Montios refused to speak to anyone.”
A blazing flash of anger tore through me. No wonder they both seemed to know about my sire—they were the ones who locked him up.
“Why didn’t you tell the other Crowns?”
“I didn’t think they needed to know. Even Crowns aren’t permitted on Coeur?le except for rituals.”
“Yes, and who could ever have predicted the Crowns might think themselves above the rules?” I said bitterly, drawing an irritable look from Doriel. “Did the map explain why he was imprisoned?”
“No. The Crowns must have discovered him somehow. Perhaps they also feared he would be too powerful, so they lured him to the island where he had no magic, then trapped him there in the hopes Omnos’s line would die with him.”
I ground my teeth, struggling to bite back my rage. Just like the half-mortal children in Lumnos, Ophiucae had been condemned to death for the sole crime of his blood.
I was beginning to sympathize more and more with his drive for vengeance at any cost.
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“No,” Doriel answered, and this time, it wasn’t a lie.
As we finished walking the city, Luther and Doriel made a tentative peace over discussions of the battle and ways to fortify the realm in case of another attack.
I heard none of it, too adrift in my thoughts to be of any help. I could tell from their furtive looks that my uncharacteristic quiet was making them both uneasy, but neither prodded, nor did they slow when I dropped behind them, perhaps sensing I needed the space.
Omnos.
Omnos .
The name went around and around in my brain.
I’d never felt any reaction to the other Kindred’s names. Resentment, perhaps, fascination at best, but nothing like this . This name felt like it owned me, like it was written on my flesh. It beckoned to the cold emptiness I’d felt in battle, goading it toward the surface.
My independent spirit itched to burn it off and free myself from whatever hold it had on me. But another side of me yearned to embrace it, to succumb completely and let the power of it swallow me whole.
And though that instinct terrified me, I couldn’t stop wondering what might happen if I did.
“Diem?” a voice called out.
I looked up in surprise to see Stuart walking toward us. I shook my head to clear away my stormy thoughts.
“I never got a chance to thank you for what you did during the battle,” I said to him. “Without your help, I’m not sure we would have survived.”
He beamed so bright, he nearly glowed. “It was an honor to watch you fight. You were so brave, and so strong, and so skilled, and so... so...” His voice went breathy as he leaned in close. “So beautiful.”
“And so already spoken for,” Luther clipped. He might as well have been invisible—Stuart’s lovestruck gaze didn’t budge. Luther growled and swung an arm possessively over my shoulders. “By me . Her Prince.”
I shrugged Luther’s arm off—earning his deep, unhappy grumble—and leaned forward to set a kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Thank you, Stuart. You’re very handsome yourself.”
Poor Stuart looked like he might pass out—and so did Luther. I wasn’t sure which of them was more eager to snatch me up and run away.
“Stuart can take that sword back to the archives,” Doriel offered, gesturing to my hand.
I looked down at the godstone broadsword. I hadn’t let go of its humming golden hilt since I’d realized it was the same one from my visions.
“Her Majesty should keep it for now,” Luther insisted. “She’ll need it if Ophiucae comes back.”
Doriel looked ill at the mere suggestion. “We’ll find her a replacement. His mortals left several godstone blades behind.”
“None that are worthy of her.”
Doriel sniffed. “That sword is one of our most important artifacts from the Kindred’s era. It’s a priceless relic. It belongs in a museum.”
“It belongs in my Queen’s hand. Swords are meant to be used, not—”
“It’s fine,” I blurted out.
My heart sank. Though I could feel in the deepest parts of my soul that I was meant to wield this sword, I couldn’t risk angering Doriel before my coronation. I’d have to find my way back to the sword another day.
I slid it into the scabbard and offered it up. As Stuart reached for it, my grip tightened on instinct. I had to clench my jaw and force each finger to uncurl before he was able to tug it away.
“I gathered everyone with godstone wounds, like you asked,” Stuart said. “And the herbs and supplies you requested, too.”
“You really think you can heal them?” Doriel asked. “We’ve been searching for a cure to godstone since the Kindred were alive.”
“Not all of them,” I admitted. “But I’ve seen my poultice work before, so it’s worth a shot to try.”
I didn’t mention the cure-all potion from Arboros. I wanted to confront the Arboros Queen about it when I saw her at the ritual in two days, and the slow-moving toxin wouldn’t turn lethal before then.
And I wasn’t entirely convinced it was the Arboros potion that had really saved Luther’s life.
We followed Stuart to the makeshift infirmary, where I set to work on the poultice while a handful of Sophos Descended crowded near me, scribbling notes as they watched.
At the edge of my vision, I spied Luther pull Doriel aside, heads bowed in hushed conversation. After some back and forth, Doriel waved over a few attendants. Luther began speaking to them, his expression indecipherable—not closed off as it normally was, but softer. Eager. When he stopped, they rushed off in different directions, a few throwing sly glances my way.
Luther’s eyes slid to me, his lips curving up at having caught me watching him. He returned the favor and let his gaze drag slowly, greedily, down my body, bathing every inch of me in his undivided focus. I was fully clothed right down to my wrists, but the way his eyes burned with dark intention, I felt like I’d been stripped and laid bare.
My thighs squeezed as I forced my attention down to my work. Stop drooling, I scolded myself. You’re mad at him, remember? He ran off and left you.
Yes, to save a bunch of schoolchildren from Vance , my conscience fired back, mocking me in my own sarcastic tone. How dare he be so selfish?
“Oh, shut up,” I muttered.
“Did you say something?” one of the Descended chirped.
I pointed to my bowl. “I said I’m finished up.”
She wrinkled her nose at the mixture. “We’ve tried this recipe before. It doesn’t work.”
“It worked once for me.”
“ Once? ” she repeated. They all exchanged the same exasperated look. “One time isn’t statistically significant.”
“One is better than zero,” I said defensively.
“If you only did it once, how do you know it was this that saved them? It could have been any number of other factors.”
Another nodded. “You have to cure it at least twice with the same treatment. That’s when you know there’s something there.”
I scowled. Logic and procedure were never my strong suits. I was more of a run-fast-and-wing-it kind of girl.
They all sighed and flopped their notebooks closed, offering up empty smiles and paltry excuses to slip away.
I frowned down at my bowl. Technically, I had healed two patients, but the poultice I’d given Luther had never worked.
Come to think of it, the poultice I’d given Taran only worked the first time I made it, even though I’d used all the same ingredients in the second batch, right down to the water from the Ignios spring.
I used the Sophos magic to call forth my memories from the little house in Ignios where I first tended Taran’s wounds, scouring each moment for a hidden clue. I watched myself prepare the herbs, just like I’d always done, then mash them into a paste, just like I’d always done. Then I cut my linen strips, just like I—
An image flashed into my head, as vivid and real as if it were playing out right before my eyes.
My palm, accidentally sliced open.
My knife, its blade edged with crimson.
My bowl, tainted with a dot of...
Blood.
An unexplainable rush took over. My eyes darted around to ensure no one was looking—only Luther, watching me as always—then I grabbed a small knife and pressed its point into my thumb. Drops of dark crimson trickled into the bowl. I hurriedly healed the wound and cleaned the blade, then stirred until it disappeared.
I waved the Descended woman back over and offered up my bowl. “I think you should try this.”
She eyed it with disinterest. “You’re, um... very kind, but we have, uh... other methods.” She smiled, though it didn’t touch her eyes. “Better ones.”
“You should try this one,” I urged. “If you check tomorrow and none of the wounds have improved, then you can try your other methods.” I returned the false smile. “Your better ones.”
She grudgingly took the bowl from my hands and hovered nearby, eying me like she was waiting for me to leave so she could throw it out. I crossed my arms and flashed her a patient smirk. Finally, she heaved a sigh and coaxed the others into helping her.
“What was that about?” Luther whispered from behind me. The intoxicating heat of him washed over me, and though my posture stiffened in stubborn protest, my treacherous neck arched as his lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Did you always add your blood?”
I gave the tiniest shake of my head.
“Another hunch?”
I let out a short, noncommittal hum.
His knuckles trailed the length of my spine, setting my skin shivering and yet fiery hot.
My jaw tightened. “You’re distracting me.”
“You’re ignoring me.”
I didn’t answer.
“Very well then,” he murmured. “If that’s how you want to play this.”
His fingers tenderly combed through my hair and brushed it away from my neck. Even my obstinate defiance couldn’t stop my eyes from fluttering at the tingle of pleasure that skittered over my scalp.
“I don’t mind fighting for your attention.” A gasp flew from my lips as he suddenly fisted my hair, forcing my face to his. “You’ve always been my favorite opponent.”
My traitor of a body refused to pull away, trapped in the hold of his pale blue gaze. “You fight dirty,” I hissed.
Luther smirked. “For you, my love, I’ll sink to any low.”
I scowled at the blissful feeling swirling in my chest. First my body, now my heart. If my temper was a commander, its army was dropping like flies.
“Doriel’s invited us to join them for dinner,” he said. His eyes dropped to my lips, and my mouth went dry. Another soldier down. “Is that what you want to do?”
Yes was the only smart answer. I needed to explain my decision to Doriel to let the mortals go. I needed to probe them for more information about the other Crowns. I needed to make some allies and recruit more people to join my war.
“No,” I breathed.
“Thank the Blessed Kindred.” He abruptly grabbed my hand and tugged me away.
“You’ll tell me if it works?” I called out to the Sophos woman, who was applying my poultice to the final patient.
But I didn’t catch her answer as Luther dragged me from the building and set off into the city.