Chapter Thirty-Three
It’s dangerous for me to be in Luthian’s house. I know that. But after a single night in my new chambers, I am homesick for it. I feel I’ve been away for centuries.
Kathras sent me here for a reason, gave me the diary for a reason. I know instinctively that Arcus does not want me to see inside the pages of this journal, so I cannot take it back to my royal chambers. Neither would I have Luthian know what I possess. I climb into the bed and duck beneath the blankets, leaving only a small gap for light to show through.
At the start, the queen’s journal is a bore. Tea, gowns, who’s sleeping with who and other court gossip. There’s shockingly little dedicated to the depravity of court.
But about halfway in, a name scrawled on the page stops me.
I grow weary of Arcus’s gilded cage. Everyone else at court is allowed pleasure freely. Why should I not have with Luthian what my mate has with the entire court?
My guardian spoke so casually about the former queen’s death, I never suspected he could have been involved in it. But here he is, mentioned in the pages of her journal. It can’t be a coincidence.
I read on.
My heart will never long for Arcus the way it longs for Luthian. He is my true mate, no matter how destiny might separate us. I need him as flowers need sunlight, as crops need water. Every moment we’re apart is a torment crueler than anyone at this wretched court could devise.
There is nothing in the entry about Luthian returning her love. I’m surprised she wrote even this much. It would have incriminated her if anyone found it.
Was that how she’d been caught?
I turn the page.
He was at the ritual tonight. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I found myself jealous of the spell that milked him of his essence. I want to make him come, with my hands and mouth. Seeing his seed shared among so many made me wild with rage. There is no fidelity at this court, but I would keep him all to myself, as Arcus keeps me.
I vividly imagine Luthian bound to the stone, his chest heaving in the firelight, his body spent and yet forced again and again to spill into one of those golden goblets. The picture in my mind would have made it easy to understand the queen’s infatuation if I did not already share it.
The next few pages are short entries. Arcus’s trip to Lua is discussed, and how she is left behind despite desperately wishing to see the city. I grow to loathe him more as I read his late wife’s words.
Then, I find an entry that is pages long. My throat sticks closed as I read it.
My heart is so full that I almost dare not write this down in case I’ve imagined all this happiness. Arcus hasn’t been gone a day, and Luthian has already come to me, at my invitation. He bade me burn the letters I sent him, for he said he had not the strength to destroy evidence of our love himself.
Our love! I’m overflowing with joy I thought I would never experience in my immortal life. Before Luthian, I saw only endless tedium with Arcus, nights of frustration as he pleased himself with others and denied that freedom to me.
But Luthian is right; we cannot write down our declarations, lest someone find them. Even these words are a risk. But if I’m to be content only with memory, I will not let a single one fade. I will write it all down, so that I will never forget his hands on my body. The way he filled me. The desperation in his voice as he breathed my name while we lay, still joined in the aftermath of our hours of pleasure.
Why should the words of a dead woman pierce my heart so? The sympathy I had for her is difficult to summon as envy darkens my heart. And why? Because Luthian loved her? Because they shared these intimate moments in a romance that was destined for tragedy?
And though I know how it ends, I can’t help myself. I turn to the last pages. The final entry is smudged with tears.
How to explain to such a wonderful being that I am leaving this world? If I had stopped for a moment and considered that death might be the outcome, of course I wouldn’t have done what I did. I would never have chosen Luthian over my life. I never did. Who could foresee that so great a love could turn to darkness?
My stomach churns. Luthian loved her. She died because of it.
This was never about gaining power at court and punishing Arcus for the insult of exile. He seeks vengeance for someone he loved, just as I did. How did I not see it? He warned me about my anger at Thrace, how it would extinguish my spirit. He could warn me because he already knew. We walked separate paths to the same destination, but now my path has ended.
Yet, when I was ready to simply wish my revenge, he talked me out of it.
I missed my chance at vengeance because he was too busy seeking his.
“Cenere?”
I stuff the diary under my pillow and throw back the covers, standing and turning my back to him. My guilt is no doubt written across my face.
Luthian hurries to my side. “I know things are difficult, but you can’t be here. If Arcus finds out—”
Tears glaze my eyes. I hate crying when I’m angry. I know I look foolish and childish. How can I expect an immortal being to take me seriously if I crumple to bits in my fury?
Luthian stops himself. “What’s happened? Has someone done something to you?”
“Yes. You did.”
I turn to find him, mouth open, unable to utter words.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re really here.”
I can see it the very moment that he knows. His silver gaze goes mirror-like, then dark. “Who have you been speaking with?”
“It doesn’t matter who I’ve been speaking with.” I can hardly admit that I’ve encountered revelations from the dead. “You said you wanted Cassan to be king. I never questioned why. I took you at your word when you told me you simply wanted to regain favor at court.”
“Taking a faery at his word was your first mistake.” He paces, unable to face me. “Your mother should have—”
The mention of my mother opens another wound, which has been festering ever since, “You were born for it.”
“My mother was desperate for a child! She would have agreed to anything for those wishes. Did she know what you were going to use them for?” I demand. “Did you know you were going to use me?”
“Cenere—”
“No! Your first word should have been a denial!” Tears flow freely down my face. “Anything you say now is some excuse you’ve constructed. The only thing that will stop me from leaving this place forever is the truth! You were in love with the queen. Did she die because of you?”
My words hang in the air like a noose awaiting his neck. I watch a lifetime of sorrow play out on his face in the heartbeats before he speaks, and though I expect him to break, he does not. “I loved her. I love her still.”
“She is dead!” I pound my fist against my chest. “I live. And I want you. I’ve made no secret of it. Yet, you choose Firo. You choose a dead queen over me. I will never be the one you choose!”
“Because I cannot have you!” Luthian roars. I’ve never seen him so angry. “I cannot have you and my revenge, and I choose my revenge!”
If he thinks I can’t match that anger, he is woefully mistaken. “And what of my revenge? What do you have to offer me in this bargain now that it’s been stolen from me?”
“I didn’t take your precious revenge.” He throws a hand out as if pointing at Arcus, though he is, I hope, far from here. “Arcus did that. I’m sorry for you, I truly am. But I have waited centuries. I have planned for centuries. The things I’ve done—”
“Like giving a faery a human child you would later exploit?” I shout. “Creating me as a weapon with singular purpose? What is my existence for once you achieve this grand revenge?”
“What you do with your existence after I visit my vengeance upon Luthian is not my concern.” It’s a lie. Not even a master manipulator can hide it.
He cares for me. He simply cares for his revenge more.
“I cannot uphold my end of the bargain,” he says simply. “If you wish to be released from it, that is all you need to say.”
“I wish to be released from my bargain with you.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I have been tricked.
“Then you are released,” he snarls. “You have one wish left.”
My eyes brim with tears. “How can you be so cruel?”
“I have always been cruel to you.” There is nothing in his voice now but contempt. “It’s not my fault that you interpreted it as love. Now, leave my house, for I am finished with you.”
“No, please!” I cry, but he vanishes. The fire in the hearth goes out. The furnishings disappear, one by one, until all that is left is an empty room, and Parphia’s journal lying on the floor.
I collect it up, wipe the tears from my face, hold my chin high, and walk down the stairs. The great hall, too, is absent of its table and chairs. The curtains are drawn against the daylight.
The place that I thought of as home is gone now.
Clutching the queen’s journal, I step out of Luthian’s house for the last time, the door opening directly into my new, mirrored cell.
* * * *
I stroll through the gardens aimlessly, until my legs are as numb and aching as my heart.
It’s nearly nightfall when a scream of pure terror rings out over the burbling of fountains and the chirping of songbirds.
I follow other alarmed courtiers through an archway sculpted in a hedge; the faeries can locate the sound far better than I can. Some of them fly rather than use the paths the rest of us take.
We exit into a part of the gardens I’ve never seen before, decorated by statues quite like the ones in the library. The courtiers all recoiled though, from a central figure.
An alabaster minotaur, draped in a familiar piebald hide, still dripping blood.