Chapter 43 #2
“More excuses.” She sighed. “If I send my gryvern away, then will you face me, or is the mortals’ freedom not worth the risk?”
When Vance’s only answer was a flex of his jaw, Diem whirled on her heel to face Tybold. “You are not to attack these men under any circumst—”
A lever clicked.
A rope twanged.
A flying bolt whistled as it sliced through the air.
Then a loud snap as it hit the ground and splintered.
Vance’s hand was on the ballista’s trigger.
Diem and Tybold were unhurt.
In the meeting room, I heard Taran whoop and Enness chuckle, then Eleanor’s hushed gasp: “They missed!” But while they were watching, I was feeling. And my Queen wasn’t relieved, she was disappointed.
“They didn’t miss,” Alixe said. “They aimed in the wrong direction.”
Then I noticed what I should have seen all along—the way Tybold’s features were slightly out of proportion, the lack of movement in Diem’s hair despite the strong northern gusts. Telltale signs of a novice illusion.
In the memory, the outline of Diem and Tybold wobbled, then vanished.
The eyes of Vance and his men shot across the field to the real Diem, mounted at a safe distance on the real Tybold’s back.
“You could have proven how far you would go for your people, and you wouldn’t have risked a thing,” she called out.
“You have one week to come fight me, Vance, or I’ll make sure everyone in Emarion learns just how pathetic you really are. ”
The memory stopped, and the meeting room came back into view. The others blinked and rubbed their heads as the revelations set in.
“We have seven days to prepare,” Diem said.
“How do we know he’ll come?” Enness asked.
“If he doesn’t, he’s admitting she was right,” Runa said. “Those men are there for him, not Ophiucae. If he loses their confidence, they might not see a reason to stay.”
“Even if Vance doesn’t come, his men will,” Cordellia said. Her gaze slid to Diem’s Crown. “She just gave them the perfect motivation.”
A growl rolled out of me. “Nothing we just learned leaves this room. Treason against the Queen will earn you my sword through your neck.”
Cordellia’s eyes thinned on me. Mine narrowed back.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Eleanor cut in. “Why do we want them here? We’re still recovering from the last attack.”
“Chasing Vance’s men is exhausting our army,” Diem said. “We need to draw them in. We might as well do it where we have an advantage.”
Alixe nodded. “We know the land, we have all our weapons, all our people, we can prepare traps and lookouts . . . Lumnos is the best battlefield we could hope for.”
“It sends a message,” Nidara said. “He might not be willing to risk everything, but you are.”
From her tone, I wasn’t sure it was a compliment.
“What if Ophiucae comes with them?” Zalaric asked.
Diem’s stony stare held, but misgiving rippled through her spirit.
“I’ll handle him. Eleanor, warn the people of Lumnos City.
Send everyone who can’t fight to the arena.
I’ll restore the magic barrier I broke at the Challenging.
They’ll be as safe there as they can be. Send everyone in Mortal City, too.”
“Vance wouldn’t kill mortals,” Auralie said.
Shadows swirled at Diem’s palm. “He already ordered the murder of one.”
Teller’s head snapped up. Auralie paled, realizing her meaning.
Diem rose, and everyone followed suit—a Queen dismissing her subjects.
Despite the disaster of the night before, her authority had become indisputable.
Even the Guardians had begun dipping their heads when she passed, not because of her Crown—she was careful to never wear it in the mortals’ camp, a gesture that had not gone unnoticed—but because of how she greeted them by name, the extra blankets and medicines that simply appeared in their tents when they were ill, the way she gathered them around the campfire before every battle to ask, never demand, their help.
She was becoming something more than a Queen. What she asked of her people wasn’t submission, it was a bargain: if she could be better, so could they.
Gods, I’d never been prouder.
“You learned illusions,” I remarked as I walked to Diem’s side.
“I asked Alixe to teach me after I saw you use them.”
“You could have asked me.”
“Hers are better.”
Hidden deep beneath her somber tone, there was a glimpse of that teasing spirit I adored. To see it glimmer and fade so quickly left my heart a ragged mess.
“I have better tricks than moons and stars, you know,” I said.
Her finger brushed against mine, the only trace of vulnerability she would allow.
Alixe cleared her throat as she approached, and Diem’s hand jerked back. The crack in her armor sealed shut, her stoic face an iron shield.
“Your Majesty,” Alixe began, “when the guards were clearing the debris from the fire, one of them found this.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of burnt rock, but as the charred lump rolled in her palm, pinpricks of light twinkled on its surface.
“Raw godstone,” Alixe confirmed. I expected excitement or relief, but her features were grim. “It was only found in one specific place. A tent . . .”
The silence decayed in her hesitation, rotting and turning to something sinister and bleak.
“The tent belonged to an elderly man that Runa and Enness picked up on the road. A mortal. He was asleep when the fire hit.” Alixe winced. “He’s the only person unaccounted for.”
Diem’s body gave a violent shudder, like a piece of her soul was sawing itself off and shoving away—then, inexplicably, she began to run. Alixe and I shared a confused stare and chased her outside the palace, where Auralie and Cordellia were walking back to the Guardians’ camp.
“What did you mean?” Diem screamed.
The two women turned. “Diem,” Auralie said, “what’s going on?”
“Your notes on treating godstone wounds. You left a note in the margins.”
“Those notes are a decade old. I don’t remember what—”
Diem seized her mother’s shoulders. “You said that godstone equaled death. I need to know what that meant.”
Auralie thought for a moment and frowned.
“I found a book about the Everflame in the Umbros markets that said mortals used to lay dead bodies at its roots as an offering. The book claimed that after the body caught fire and burned, the soil looked like a starry sky. That reminded me of godstone. I thought perhaps that’s why its poison only affected Descended—because they never made an offering, so the Old Gods punished them with death. ”
Diem let go of her mother and lurched back, her face an ashen grey. She waved me off when I moved to follow, and we all watched as her head sunk low and she disappeared inside her tent.
Alixe glanced at the glittering black rock in her hand, then looked at me. Understanding passed between our stares. There would be no more raw godstone to work with. If a life was the cost to make it, that was a price Diem would never willingly pay.
Auralie pulled me aside. “Luther, what was that about?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like I could either burn the continent down or sleep for a century, but nothing in between. “Another setback Diem doesn’t need.”
She gazed at her daughter’s tent, looking pained. “How is she? With everything that happened last night, is she . . . ?”
“Bad,” I confessed. I was growing tired of secrets, and she knew Diem too well to believe a lie. “How are you?”
“My only concern is my children. They’ve lost so much.”
“You lost Andrei, too.” She was practically squeezing her jaw closed to keep her protests back, and my stare turned harsh. “You think you’re helping them by hiding your pain? You’re only teaching them to do it, too.”
“How can I burden my children with my feelings when I’m the one who brought Vance and Henri into our lives?” A flare of rage flashed across her face. “I’ll never forgive either of them for what they’ve done.”
“That anger?” I said, pointing at her. “Keep it. If you won’t mourn, use that instead. This calm, quiet person you’re pretending to be is not what your children need, Auralie. They need the woman who made them who they are.”
Though she didn’t say more, her frown shifted to something fiercer—something more like the determined Auralie Bellator I’d always known.
“The note about godstone Diem mentioned,” I said, “you wrote her name beside it. What did she have to do with it?”
“The Everflame is the Sacred Tree of Life and Death. The story made me wonder, if the Old Gods gave godstone for an offering of death, what might come from an offering of life?”
“What kind of offering?”
“A baby born on the Everflame’s soil.”
I considered it for a moment. I’d always assumed the peculiarities around Diem and her magic had come from her Omnos bloodline. What if her mortal blood was just as unique?
“You think Diem is immune to the godstone toxin because she was born on Coeur?le?” I asked.
“I think the gods have been fighting over my daughter since the day she was born. The Kindred gave her those damned Crowns. Whatever blessing the Old Gods gave her, I pray it’s enough to help her survive them.”