Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
W e waited in silence, holding each other in the dark and listening for any sign of approaching Guardians. The air hummed with a steady trill of insects and the rustle of wind-blown leaves—but no footsteps.
Eventually, Alixe emerged from the shadows and slipped out into the woods, and we held our breath in wait. After many tense minutes, she reappeared in the opening.
“No sign of them,” she announced. “They should have come through by now. They must have given up the search.”
“Or they went back to regroup and wait for daylight,” Taran muttered.
“Either way, we’ll be safe here for the night,” Luther said.
I almost whimpered in protest as he released me and stepped into the dim sliver of light spilling in from the opening. The heat from his body disappeared, the chill winter air taking its place, and the wet clothing plastered to my skin turned frigid.
“Maybe we should keep going and put more distance between us and the camp,” Taran suggested.
Luther shook his head. “We already have a long journey back to Arboros City to fetch our horses. I’d prefer not to make it any longer.” He glanced in my direction, frowning. “If we don’t rest, we might not outrun them a second time.”
I knew his words were for my benefit. I started to step forward and argue, but my muscles had gone stiff in the cold. I had to grip the tree to keep from falling as my eyelids drooped.
Living in constant unease, being chained in place for days, my doomed attempt to sail away, the battle at the campsite—it had all worn on me far more than I’d realized.
My need to get to Luther had been a dam forcing me to stay collected. Now that we were together and I could see he was safe, my feeble walls had broken, sending a deluge of exhaustion and emotion coursing through me at a devastating pace.
My teeth began to chatter as the icy chill from my clothes seeped into my bones.
“Rest is good,” I admitted. “We can decide our next steps in the morning.”
Alixe nodded. “You all get some sleep. I’ll take first watch outside.” She gave me a shallow bow, then walked out of the hollow.
I winced at my aching muscles as I gathered what little strength I had and trailed her into the forest. “Alixe,” I called out, shuffling to her side. “Thank you for coming to my aid today. You’re an incredible fighter.”
She dipped her chin. “It’s an honor to fight in your service, Your Majesty.” She gave me an appraising once over, her lips curving with a half-smile. “You fought well yourself—better than many of my soldiers in the Royal Guard. And very bravely, risking yourself the way you did.”
I smirked. “Could you repeat that last part again—a little louder, so Luther can hear you?”
She laughed. “If it were anyone but you, Luther would commend them for being so selfless in battle. You’re a credit to your father.”
My heart swelled, her words as sweet as they were excruciating. When my thoughts turned their darkest, I often replayed that final conversation with my father—how disappointed in me he’d seemed, and how deeply that wound had cut.
I hoped that, wherever he was, he was proud of what I’d done in the Challenging—and I was determined to live a life that would make him even prouder still.
My throat burned with emotion, my energy too depleted to fight it off. I looked down to hide my watering eyes.
Alixe stiffened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t bring him up again.”
“Gods, no,” I rushed out. “Please don’t say that. I don’t ever want him to be forgotten. Your words mean a great deal to me, that’s all.” I smiled as I brushed away an escaped tear. “You showed such respect to him at the palace. I won’t ever forget that.”
“It was my honor. I only wish I’d had more time to get to know him.”
I could not answer without losing my composure, so I took a shaky breath and shifted my weight. “You must think me foolish for asking you not to kill the mortals earlier when they were trying so hard to kill us.”
“It’s not foolish. I understand. And I agree.”
My eyebrows flew up. “You do?”
“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to that night before the Challenging, when you took me and Taran through Mortal City.” Her eyes lowered as she tucked her short blue-black hair behind her ear, her expression unusually troubled. “As Vice General, that city is under my protection. For me to know so little of it, and to see how many are suffering there, some in ways I had the power to prevent...” Genuine pain filled her expression. “I cannot tell you how ashamed I was that night—and still am. I’ve thought about it every day since.”
She frowned. “We Descended have isolated ourselves in our schools and our cities. Even in the army, the mortal units live and train separately. It’s no excuse, but because I never saw the mortals, it was easy for me to convince myself they were doing fine.”
“You cannot solve a problem you refuse to look at,” I said.
“No, you cannot,” she agreed. “So I wanted to say thank you—for making me look. And I’m sorry I was not brave enough to do so on my own.”
“The mortals don’t need your apologies, Alixe. Or your shame. They need your action.”
It was a stern command, but I knew Alixe would understand. She was a woman of deeds, not words. She thrived in battle, and I had faith that a call to action would bring out the very best in her.
“I will,” she vowed, and I believed her.
She gazed off into the woods with brows furrowed, seeming to be working through a dilemma in her mind. After a moment, she stood taller.
“I’d like to integrate the Royal Guard,” she declared. “The mortals should have a hand in governing their own community. And they should be patrolling Lumnos City, too. It wouldn’t hurt for the Descended to see them in positions of authority.”
I nodded slowly, thinking. “It would give mortals more opportunities to work in Lumnos instead of being forced off to Fortos to join the army.”
“Yes. We should be keeping our strongest in the realm, not sending them away.”
“Your Descended guards won’t like it,” I warned. “There will be plenty of challenges.”
“I suppose I’ll just have to follow my Queen’s lead. Challenges didn’t stop you.”
I grinned, puffing up at her compliment. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Have you discussed it with Luther?”
“Not yet. I was waiting until you were home safe and he wasn’t so...” She pursed her lips. “...preoccupied.”
Her loaded tone had me arching a brow, but I didn’t press further. “Let’s discuss it more when we’re back in Lumnos. I suspect Luther will agree—and if he doesn’t, I can be very persuasive.”
I winked, drawing a laugh from Alixe that had Taran and Luther craning their necks from where they whispered near the hollow’s entrance.
Alixe tilted her head in Luther’s direction. “You know, he may say he doesn’t want you to pick up a sword and face danger head-on, but it’s also why he respects you. It’s why we all do.”
“He’ll have to get used to it. I fear our days of facing danger head-on are only just beginning.”
“Good.” She cocked a hip and flexed her fingers around the hilt of her shortsword, her expression positively devilish. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Your Majesty.”
I grinned and pulled my cloak tighter as I began to shiver. “You really don’t have to use titles with me, Alixe. I’d like to think we’re friends.”
She hesitated, then grimaced. “We are friends. And I know how you feel about titles, but... I confess, I agree with Luther. They’re more important than they seem. And you should use yours.”
“I understand why you feel that way. Your titles are earned. I did nothing to earn this Crown.”
“The Blessed Mother might disagree. She did not choose you for nothing. And you’ve already fought for it in the Challenging.” She tilted her head at me and frowned. “I’ve spent my life trying to escape the Corbois name. I never wanted anything to be handed to me—I wanted to get there myself, through my own hard work. On that, I think you and I are very similar.”
I nodded in agreement.
“But there are some whose respect I will never earn. For them, nothing I do will ever be enough. So I’ve learned to wield my titles without mercy. They don’t have to respect me, but they do have to salute me, obey me, and address me correctly. I don’t need their support—just their submission.
“You, Your Majesty, will face the same thing. You have many detractors who do not like your background or who disagree with your vision... but they are still bound to obey you as Queen. That Crown, and the title that comes with it, is a weapon. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
I thought over her words. I’d been quick to ask the multitude of Corbois cousins to call me Diem, rather than using my title—and they’d been just as quick to treat me with open skepticism and contempt.
Perhaps she had a point.
“You really think it’s that important?” I asked.
She nodded gravely. “On a battlefield, obedience to the chain of command can be the difference between victory or defeat. And, as you said, there may be many more battles in our future.”
My heart lurched—she sounded so much like my father.
I smiled. “Your point is well taken. I’ll think it over. Though I hope before this is all over, you and I can grab a pint and simply be Diem and Alixe for at least one night.”
She gave me a final bow. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Your Majesty.”
I trudged back toward the hollow. Luther was leaning against the trunk with arms crossed, wearing that brilliant, elusive smile that had caught my heart and refused to let it go. Even in the gloomy dark of the wee hours, it was bright enough to light up the realm.
“Why do you look so happy?” I teased. “Did Taran agree to cuddle with you all night to keep you warm?”
“He is my cousin, you know.”
“Since when has that stopped a Corbois?”
He grunted and pushed off the tree, reaching for me. “I’m happy because you’re safe, and I’m at your side, and—” He stopped abruptly as his fingers curled around mine. His smile vanished. “Why are your hands so cold?”
“Well, it is winter.”
“You’re a block of ice.” His tone had gone short and displeased. He reached up and brushed a thumb across my mouth. “Your lips are blue.”
“You’re fussing.”
“You’re freezing .”
“I’m f-fine.” I cringed as my chattering teeth gave me away. His fingertips grazed my throat and an intense shiver rocked through my body. It was as much from the effect of his touch as the cold, but it was too late to argue.
His eyes turned dark. “Get out of those wet clothes,” he barked, reaching for the clasp of my cloak and yanking it from my shoulders. “We’ll hang them to dry for tomorrow.”
“I have no others to wear,” I protested. “I can’t—”
My voice hitched as I looked down at myself. My tunic was soaked—not just in seawater, but in dark crimson blood.
The blood of the man I’d slain at the camp.
Mortal blood.
In the chaos of fleeing, I’d blocked it out, forced myself to ignore what I’d done. Now, the evidence was inescapable.
The breath rushed out of me, then came back in short, panicked gulps. I threw off Taran’s baldric and tried wiping the blood away, scrubbing my hands against the thin linen fabric, the scarlet stain spreading further onto my skin.
Blood on my hands, I thought, staring in horror at my trembling palms. Corpses at my feet.
“He was a m-mortal,” I rasped out, my voice hoarse. “He was just trying to protect his people... my people...”
“It was an accident,” Luther said gently. “You were only trying to stop his attack.”
“I swore to use this Crown to protect them, and then I killed them.”
He reached for me and I flinched away, feeling unworthy of his touch. I clutched my hands to my chest and squeezed my eyes closed, unable to bear the kindness on his face.
“You did everything you could. More of them might be dead if not for you.”
“None of them would be dead if not for me,” I shouted. My voice reverberated through the forest, hanging among the swaying branches. “Sorae killed some of them, too, and disfigured gods only know how many more—all because of me , Luther!”
“Look at me.”
I staggered back. “Who even knows how many might have been hurt by the bombs, or burned by the fires, or—”
“ Diem ,” he growled. “Look at me.”
I forced my eyes open. Luther stood in front of me, his hands hovering a few inches from my face.
“May I touch you?”
His expression was calm, his voice steady—no longer gentle, but not harsh, either. My mountain in the windstorm, my island in a turbulent sea. I didn’t answer, and he waited patiently, not moving any closer.
“Let me touch you,” he urged again, quieter.
I gave the slightest nod, and his hands carefully came to rest on the sides of my face, holding my gaze to his.
“The war isn’t just coming,” he said, “it’s here. The battles have already begun. People are going to die—that’s unavoidable.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I just don’t want them to die because of me.”
“But they will, Diem. There will be blood spilled by every side. Some of it will be at your command, some may be by your own hand. And you can mourn them—you should mourn them—but you cannot carry their deaths on your shoulders.”
“You did,” I shot back weakly. “I’ve seen how you blamed yourself for the half-mortals you couldn’t save.”
Pain shadowed his features. “Yes. And it ate me alive. It turned me angry and hollow for a very long time.” His fingers grazed my cheek. “I will not watch that happen to you.”
My despair over the mortal’s death mixed with the bone-rattling chill of hypothermia’s early stages. The cold, the fatigue, the despair—it had all become one jumbled fog I couldn’t see my way out of.
A violent shudder worked its way through my limbs, and Luther’s jaw clenched. He took my hand and tugged me into the hollow of the tree. Taran was already asleep and snoring softly, but he’d folded his cloak and set it by the opening.
Luther pulled me into the dark blindness of the shadows. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of my tunic, his fingertips pausing on my icy skin. “May I undress you?” he whispered.
I managed out a quiet yes , and he wasted no time. He peeled the drenched linen over my head, then used the clean side to swipe my bloody palms. He removed my footwear, then loosened my waistband and slid the scratchy trousers down my legs. His touch turned even lighter as he tugged away my undergarments, taking care to keep his movements brief and deliberate.
When I was naked in the darkness, he came around behind me and unbraided my hair, tenderly combing it with his fingers to loosen the strands.
After a few moments of rustling, to my surprise, a thick sweater dropped over my head, hanging loosely off my frigid bones. The fibers were exquisitely soft, like no knit I’d ever felt before. It was already warmed with body heat, and it filled my nose with Luther’s woodsy, peppery musk of cedar and moss.
More rustling followed, then Luther’s hand brushed against my ankle, guiding it up and through a ring of gathered fabric, and again with the other leg. His knuckles grazed along my thighs and hips as he pulled up a pair of breeches, the supple leather like velvet against my skin. A pair of warm socks covered my feet, and a heavy overcoat settled on my shoulders.
“Luther,” I said softly. “You can’t give me all your clothes. You’ll freeze.”
“I have Taran’s cloak. I’ll be fine.” He ran a hand up my arm and over my shoulder, clasping around the back of my neck. He pulled me in and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Lay down. I’ll be back soon.”
I wanted to argue, but my legs had other plans. I barely made it gracefully to the soil before collapsing on my side, curling into a ball, and letting my eyes flutter closed. At the edge of my consciousness, I caught Luther and Alixe whispering just outside, but the steady rumble of Taran’s snoring was a strange lullaby that dragged me into sleep’s depths.
Sometime later, I was roused by a warm body curling up behind me. A heavy arm draped protectively over my side, and I clutched onto it, groggily pulling it tighter. A second arm looped beneath me, then around me, until I was enfolded into a hard wall of muscle.
He spoke quiet words in my ear. Though I was half-asleep and too drowsy to retain them, they pushed my fears to the fringes of my mind and filled me with calm.
His heat seeped into mine, and mine into his. For the first time since my coronation, I was warm, and safe, and content.