Chapter 43
LUTHER
“How bad is it?” Diem asked.
The silence was answer enough.
You could have heard the flutter of a moth in the meeting room where Diem’s advisors had gathered. After the events of the night before, Eleanor had gently suggested we meet to “assess.”
The fallout had been devastating. The brawl between the Guardians and the Royal Guards had rekindled old tensions, and Diem’s failure to stop it had not endeared her to either side.
Her choice to spare that prick Henri had not been the inspiring act her friend Brecke had hoped for, either.
Many now whispered, If she won’t get justice for her own family, how can I trust her to get it for mine?
Then there was the fire. The strange silver flames Diem created had burned out of control, taking out a number of tents across the various camps, destroying the only belongings some people had left.
It was salt in a wound that Diem had promised to heal, and some had decided to leave Lumnos for good.
I didn’t fault her for what she’d done. Every nerve in my body throbbed with a vicious desire to find Henri and do much, much worse. But I did fear the consequences last night might bring—on our army, on this war, and for the darkness Diem had been fighting inside her.
“The other camps are blaming us for the fire spreading out of control,” Nidara said. “We did try to stop it, but our magic had no effect.” She paused. “I do not think it was made of Blessed Mother Ignios’s flames.”
“Perhaps it was a blending of Ignios flame and Lumnos light,” Alixe suggested. “If Diem is capable of combining the Kindred’s magic, that could give us a significant advantage.”
Enness—a new addition to Diem’s advisors, along with Runa—frowned. “If she can do it, doesn’t that mean he can do it, too?”
All eyes turned to Diem. Hers slid away.
“I’ll handle it,” I said to Nidara. “I’ll speak with the other camps and ensure they know your people are blameless.”
Eleanor looked at Auralie. “How are things with the Guardians?”
Auralie wasn’t listening. She was watching her daughter—and her son, who sat in the back of the room, his stormy glare never rising from the floor.
None of the Bellators were coping well with what had happened.
Teller wasn’t speaking, and Auralie’s efforts to wear a brave face had turned into pretending nothing had happened.
Diem fled on Tybold and hadn’t returned until this afternoon.
Though her aura wasn’t drained, her spirit was.
In her eyes, I saw only shadows. In her heart, I felt only pain.
“Bad,” Cordellia said plainly. “Things are bad. We’re losing people fast. We need something to remind everyone why we’re here.”
“We need to find Ophiucae,” Alixe agreed. “Defeating him will bring everyone back together. Is there any word on where he might be?”
Cordellia shook her head. “Aurelie’s source warned us we might not hear from them again.”
“We don’t need them,” Diem murmured. “I know where they’re coming next.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Here,” Diem said. “To Lumnos.”
Every back in the room snapped to attention.
“How do you know?” Nidara asked.
Diem’s fingers drummed on her empty scabbard. “I went to see him last night.”
“You went to the Forgotten Lands alone?” I growled.
Her eyes cut to me. “Ophiucae wasn’t there. But Vance was.”
I struggled to contain my frustration. Facing an entire army on her own was irresponsible, even for her. Especially for her.
“I didn’t go to fight,” she said quietly. “I just needed to get close enough to . . .” Her eyes pulsed with an ominous darkness. “Can I show you?”
A strange sensation tickled at my mind, like a hand tapping at the back of my skull, its soft rhythm mirroring the beat of her fingers against her scabbard.
She glanced around, waiting for an objection, and when none came, her presence slid into our minds.
For me, its place there felt at home, but the others grimaced at having their every thought laid bare.
But Diem was careful. She kept her godhood small—a simple, glimmering orb hovering in the palm of our thoughts. A possessive surge blazed through me as I wrapped myself around it.
She was mine. Mated or married or not, Diem was mine to love. Mine to protect, to both guide and follow. The brush of her aura seemed to answer: Yes, I am.
I kept that thought close as a vision began to play out: Diem, standing at the edge of the Forgotten Lands with Tybold at her back.
Vance and his minions lining the edge of the blackened forest. A ballista we’d been forced to leave behind at the Guardians camp in Montios, loaded with a godstone bolt and pointed directly at her chest.
My Queen was unafraid. The hatred coursing in her blood was more lethal than the godstone’s venom.
I had seen her at the furthest reaches of her temper, but never like this.
There was no compassion left in her, nor even the furious fire of the night before.
She looked cold. Hollow. A brittle shell filled with an infinite abyss.
She looked as if Ophiucae’s shield was the only thing keeping the Forgotten Lands from becoming a graveyard.
“Your army abandoned you already?” Vance called out, drawing laughter from his men.
“Not at all,” Diem said, her tone deceptively light. “I didn’t want to interrupt their fun. They’re busy drinking Lumnos dry.” She flashed a flat, humorless smile that looked wrong on her face. “They have good reason to celebrate. They sent you running without drawing a sword.”
The laughter stopped.
“Why are you here, then? Come to beg your real daddy to accept you?” Vance tutted. “What would poor Andrei think?”
The wrath that exploded through Diem was so visceral, it transcended the bounds of the memory. My body arched at its power, my spine slamming back against my chair. Around the room, I heard quiet grunts and sharp breaths as the others endured the same.
In the vision, Diem’s smile turned colder. “Actually, I’ve come for you.”
She began to stride forward, and Vance’s cockiness disappeared. “Fire the ballista,” he shouted.
“Please do,” she said. “I would love to burn another one of those bolts to ash.”
Vance’s men eyed him. “Father,” one said, “we only have one bolt left. If she destroys it—”
“We’ll make more,” Vance barked. “We have plenty of godstone.”
“Do you?” Diem asked. “I destroyed so much on my last visit.” Her eyes swept across the lines. “Looks like I missed a few pieces.”
The men with godstone weapons shuffled backward.
“I’ve come to deliver a message,” she shouted, raising her voice loud enough for all the men to hear.
“You want to destroy the Crowns? I’m offering you a chance to do it.
” The form over her head began to shift, rotating one by one through each of the realms’ individual Crowns before merging back into its combined nine-peaked form.
“I hold them all, and I’m the last person who will ever wear them.
I made a deal with the Kindred—when I die, the Crowns die with me. ”
The men shared looks that ranged from distrust to cautious hope. Swords and crossbows lifted as realization dawned that life outside Descended rule was one well-placed strike away.
What the hell was she doing? She’d just put an irresistible bounty on her head. If word spread to her army, she might not even be safe here in Lumnos.
And Henri . . . if Diem had confessed this to him the night I’d brought them together to talk, there was no telling how much more damage he could cause.
I gripped harder to her presence inside me. It would be worth baring every secret in my head if I could hide her in the safety of my thoughts.
In the vision, Diem held out her arms. “Go on, take your shot. End the Crowns, once and for all.”
Wood creaked as archers drew back arrows and the ballista swung into position.
“Wait,” Vance said. His eyes narrowed. “She wants us to attack.”
Diem scoffed. “First you run from my army. Now you’re too scared to face me when I’m all alone?”
His lip curled back. “I fear no Descended. Archers, take her out.”
Arrows soared across the field. Diem gave a bored wave, and a burst of Ignios flame gobbled them up, leaving their metal points dropping to the rocky soil.
“That was underwhelming,” she mocked.
Vance’s face flushed scarlet. “Swordsmen, attack!”
His men weren’t so eager. Many held their ground, and those who advanced moved forward at a crawl.
The ground trembled, and a ridge of stone rose from the soil, stopping at waist height. Long shards of glistening ice took form along its upper edge.
“Hope you boys like to climb,” Diem taunted. “Careful, though. That ice is sharper than it looks.”
Vance’s men looked at each other with uneasy glances.
In my own body, I felt myself smile. These men had overcome bigger obstacles than this in battle.
Their hesitance was proof that Diem had gotten under their skin.
For all their chauvinist pride, a woman in a flowing gown and empty scabbard had left them quaking.
And they were right to be scared.
“You told me once that true Guardians aren’t afraid to give their lives,” she called out to Vance. “Your men have proven that. So have the Guardians in my army. But you always find an excuse to stay out of the fight. Guess you’re not as true a Guardian as I thought.”
Vance practically snarled. “I’m more of a Guardian than you’ll ever be.”
“Prove it.” Diem rolled her wrist, and a hole opened in the wall she’d built. “Come kill me yourself.”
“I have nothing to prove to you.”
“Then prove it to your men.” She tipped her scabbard upside down. “Look—no sword. Not a weapon on me.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “I won’t even use my magic.”
The stillness was deafening.
The creases on Vance’s weathered face deepened as his men whispered within their ranks.
Diem’s smirk grew. “I wonder what Ophiucae will do when he realizes the man leading his army is so spineless.”
Vance spat at the ground. “We’re not his army. He serves us. And you can’t fool me, girl. You’re trying to trick us so your gryvern can attack.”