Chapter 44
LUTHER
It didn’t take long for Vance to prove Diem right.
On the sixth day, a messenger hawk arrived with news that he’d been spotted marching for Lumnos with a large contingent of troops.
Unlike before, they didn’t hide their movements behind an illusion.
They wanted us to see them coming. Diem’s mocking had worked—Vance was so desperate to show he wasn’t afraid of her, he was putting his entire army at risk to prove it.
The prospect of an end to the war lifted everyone’s spirits.
Taran kept up morale with a steady stream of ale and music, and my advisors had been working hard to encourage their respective factions to give unity a second chance.
When we announced that we expected the enemy’s arrival within a day, our army actually cheered.
Knowing the precise moment they would arrive was an incredible advantage, and we set to work exploiting it.
Alixe had already called in reinforcements from Fortos, and she positioned us in an area of the northern forests known as Mort-Feu Pass, hoping to cut Vance off before his army reached the towns.
We filled a clearing there with hidden obstacles and put archers in the trees across the field to surprise them with a rear attack.
Diem had been in a pensive silence all week, but today she was shouting orders and pacing the front lines, checking and double-checking every preparation.
She sent the gryverns away—Sorae to protect the towns, Tybold to protect the arena.
She asked twice if we had time to call in more fighters from other realms. She seemed worried there was something she’d missed.
Something big enough to turn certain triumph into disaster.
“We’re ready,” I assured her, reaching for her hand. Though she let me take it, I might as well have been holding her empty scabbard. Her body was here, but her mind was elsewhere.
“Diem,” I rumbled, adding a touch of the dominant gruff I usually reserved for our more intimate moments.
Her head snapped toward me, her focus finally returning in full.
“We’re going to win,” I said again.
Her nails clicked against the godstone sword I’d forced her to carry. “Do you feel it?”
I knew what she meant. The presence of powerful magic in the air had been steadily growing stronger all day.
I nodded. “With any luck, he’ll bring your sword. We’ll steal it back, and you can end this.”
Her expression darkened. She swept her gaze across Mort-Feu Pass. “Does his aura feel different to you?”
“Weaker than I expected, considering they’re so close. Maybe shielding them has drained his magic.”
“It’s more than that. It feels . . .” Her heel bounced. “I don’t know. Different.” She glanced up at the sky. “Maybe I should call in the other gryverns.”
“We could call back Sorae. Lumnos City would be happy to lose her, considering how loudly she whined when we left her behind.” I teasingly nudged her side. “I think I can still hear her from here.”
Diem didn’t smile. “Sorae stays where she is. I can’t risk leaving the towns unprotected.”
I lowered my voice, mindful of the hundreds of troops surrounding us. “Is that what’s worrying you? You think they’re going to find a way to get past us?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Her attention shifted to her brother, who was standing among the troops.
After a tense discussion about Vance’s involvement in their father’s murder, Teller had insisted on joining the battle.
It was a tremendously bad idea, but Diem couldn’t deny him the chance at revenge she so badly wanted herself.
Through the past week, I’d awoken in the night to find her sitting up, eyes open and vacant as she replayed the memory of Andrei’s murder in her head.
Each time, I would watch until she returned with a jolt, then pull her close and hold her as tears streamed down her cheeks.
She gave me her word that she was not doing it to punish herself, but to memorize the faces of every man there so she would recognize them if she saw them in battle.
I let go of her hand and grazed mine up her back. My fingers dipped below the collar of her fighting leathers and gently massaged her warm, tension-knotted skin.
Something stirred inside me as her eyes briefly closed and a bit of her sharpness softened. I’d always felt drawn to protect her, but ever since Sophos, that urge had become a need. I doubted there was anything I wouldn’t do to bring her gauntlet to an end.
If only I could figure out how.
“Should we get them a tent?” Taran teased from behind us.
“Leave them alone,” Zalaric scolded, whipping a tendril of pale blue light his way.
Taran yelped, though the magic did no damage as it cracked against his skin. “See,” he boasted, grinning. “Your godhood won’t hurt me. You do like me.”
Zalaric groaned. “At least the fortune I’m paying for this ceremony won’t be a waste.”
“Ceremony?” Diem asked.
Zalaric frowned at Taran. “You haven’t told her?”
“I was waiting until she was a little less . . .” He bared his teeth and made a stabbing motion with his hand.
Diem abruptly spun around. “Wait—do you mean a mating ceremony?” She looked between them. “The two of you are going to be mates?”
“Bribes were involved,” Zalaric said dryly, though his mouth lifted into a smile.
My lungs burned, and I realized I was holding my breath for her reaction. While Taran enthusiastically explained the when and where, I catalogued her every movement—the slight sink of her brows and flattening of her lips, the way her hand drifted to her chest.
Diem had made it clear she might never take a mate. I’d told her I could live with that, and I meant it. There was no mark nor ring nor title that I needed to love her for the rest of my days.
But in my most hidden thoughts, hope had persevered. Ever since the day in the library when she’d spoken of our future, I’d wondered if, perhaps, in time . . .
“Will you do it, Queenie?” Taran asked.
Diem couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “What?”
“He wants you to lead the ceremony,” Zalaric said, “because you’re our Queen.”
“Because she’s our family,” Taran corrected, “and she’s the reason I found you.”
“Remind me to bill her for that inconvenience,” Zalaric joked.
“I . . . um, I’m so . . . happy for you both,” she stammered, “but I—I don’t . . .”
A thundering heartbeat pounded in my ears. My chest flooded with a tempestuous mix of emotions.
“Diem has never attended a mating ceremony,” I jumped in. “She won’t know what to do.”
“Lumnos’s taint,” Taran said, sulking. “I didn’t think of that.”
Zalaric shot him a look. “I told you that myself. Twice.”
“Yeah, but it was right after you did that thing with your teeth. You know how I get when my balls—”
I cleared my throat. “Maybe Her Majesty could participate in a simpler way. As one of your dagger-bearers, perhaps?” I looked at Diem, whose face had gone white as she clutched the leather over her chest. “All you have to do is present the knife when asked.”
“Perfect,” Taran said. “Queenie and Teller can carry the daggers. Lu can lead the ceremony instead.”
I fought a cringe. “That role is held by someone with authority. I have none.”
A mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “Maybe if you ask nicely, Queenie will make you her Kingie.”
Diem tensed.
“Taran,” I warned.
“If you ask really nicely, Zal might let us make it a double ceremony so you two could speed up this torture you’re putting us all thr—”
“Taran,” I snapped. “I’ll do it.”
He brightened. “Really?” He lunged forward, and I let go of Diem just in time to avoid taking her down with me as he knocked me to my ass with a rib-crushing hug.
I slapped him hard on the back, but our brotherly moment was interrupted by a trumpet’s blare. We quickly climbed to our feet and turned our eyes to a column of shadow shooting through the trees.
The lookout’s signal.
Vance and his men had arrived.
Hardly a word was spoken as we watched the enemy emerge from the forest. It was immediately apparent that this was not the ragtag group of rebels we’d grown accustomed to facing.
Their clothes were nicer, their weapons were fancier.
There was even a line of people at the front of their ranks who inexplicably appeared to be wearing uniforms. And there was something I’d never seen among Vance’s troops before: women.
Plenty of them. In less than a week, Vance’s army had more than tripled in size.
“They’re not shielding,” Alixe said. “Not unless Ophiucae learned how to make his shield invisible.”
“There’s his shield,” I grumbled, pointing to the furthest edge of the ranks, where Vance sat on horseback along with ten other men behind a shimmering veil.
Taran snorted. “Hiding in safety while his people put themselves at risk. He’s proving Queenie right.”
I glanced at Diem. She was quiet, brows drawn in.
Nidara eagerly spun her blades. “Why do they keep fighting for him? He’s going to get them all killed.”
“Maybe they’re happy to die as long as they take us with them,” Zalaric said.
Diem took a few steps forward, her troubled look deepening.
“Your Majesty,” Alixe called out. “We advance on your command.”
Diem shook her head.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“They’re so . . . still.”
I began to see it, too. The host amassed across Mort-Feu Pass looked more like a painting than living, breathing people.
Our soldiers were squirming with energy, but the fighters at Vance’s command were perfect statues.
Their lines were flawless, not a toe out of place.
The only movement was their clothes fluttering in the wind.
Diem raised her arm, and a bolt of shadow sprang from her palm. None of the enemy soldiers even raised their chins to watch as it sailed across their heads and crashed into Vance’s shield.
His booming laughter echoed across the pass.