Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
“ C ome on Alixe, let’s wake them up.”
My eyes cracked open to the thump of a heartbeat beneath my ear and two familiar voices arguing in hushed tones.
“Leave them be, Taran. The past two weeks have been hell on them both. You know Luther’s barely slept.”
“It’s nearly midday. I want to talk to Queenie and hear what happened.”
“ Her Majesty will tell us when she wakes up.”
I heard Taran’s low grumbles. “Why do you get to decide?”
“When the Queen is asleep, Luther’s in charge. When they’re both asleep, I’m in charge. When all three of us are asleep, you’re in charge.”
“If the three of you are asleep, then there’s no one left for me to be in charge of .”
“Exactly.”
I buried my face in Luther’s chest to hide my laughter. I had turned to him in the night and curled into his side, my head resting on his shoulder. His hand had burrowed beneath my sweater, his flesh hot against mine where it lay in the curve of my waist. The other was joined with my hand atop his bare chest, our fingers intertwined.
“You’re awake,” he said, yawning. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I said honestly. I nestled in closer. “Warmer, at least.”
His arm tightened around me, and I let out a comfortable hum. It was strange how natural it felt to wake up beside him in the woods, limbs draped over each other’s bodies, unhurried and at peace despite the danger that nipped at our heels.
I gazed up at him sleepily. “I could have done a shift on night watch, you know. I may be Queen, but I don’t need to be protected at all times.”
His wry smirk told me exactly what he thought of that claim. Wisely, he kept it to himself.
“You’ll have to take it up with Alixe and Taran,” he said instead. “They let me sleep through my shift, too.” His expression warmed as he brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into my eyes. “Though I confess, I’m finding it hard to be angry.”
Taran’s voice drifted into the hollow again.
“Alixe, I’m bored .”
I could almost see her eyes rolling in response.
“Go kill something then. Preferably something edible.”
I grinned. “Perhaps we should go put them out of their misery.”
“Perhaps,” Luther answered.
Neither of us moved.
I trailed my finger along his scar where it emerged from the makeshift blanket we’d made of Taran’s cloak, and Luther’s muscles tensed. I tried to catch his eyes, but he was staring up, his smile gone, his expression now guarded.
My heart splintered. I knew Luther had a complicated relationship with his scars. They were a reminder of his greatest tragedy—his father’s brutal murder of his secret mortal mother—and a source of his people’s scorn. He’d been mocked for them by family, even by lovers. Yet he’d chosen to keep them, rather than have them healed away.
I still didn’t fully understand why, but I was grateful for it. I was covered in scars of my own, on my skin and in my heart. In a Descended world that demanded perfection, it was our imperfections that had bonded us together.
“Now might be our only chance to speak alone,” he said quietly.
I glanced at the large crack in the tree that opened up to the forest. My stolen cloak hung over it like a curtain, held up by two daggers stabbed into the bark, a thoughtful gesture to give us both darkness and privacy.
I looked back at Luther and nodded. “Tell me what you know about my mother.”
He took a deep breath and sat upright, then grabbed me by the hips and pulled me into his lap until I was facing him, my legs straddling him on either side. He gave me a flat look at my attempts to drape Taran’s cloak over his bare shoulders, snatching it from my hands and wrapping it around me instead.
“I first met her when she became the palace healer,” he began. “I’d been watching the Guardians, so I knew she was their leader, but I also knew she was the best healer in the realm. For the children, that was more important. I let her work, but I kept a close eye on her.”
I smiled. “That sounds familiar.”
“Well, she didn’t attack my guards or threaten to cut off my hand.”
“Pity. It worked out so well for me.”
“For us both.” His arms looped low on my back, nudging me closer.
“One day,” he went on, “I went to Mortal City for a half-mortal child that had been discovered. The girl was alive but had been gravely wounded by her Descended parent.”
I laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently, knowing the similarities to his own story and the brutal memories that must have evoked.
“I took the child to your mother and begged her to save the girl’s life. She did—but she also realized the girl was half-mortal. She knew my duty as Keeper of the Laws was to execute them, not save them. She suspected what I was doing, and she said she wanted to help. She told me she had ways to transport people out of sight of the Descended. I knew her involvement with the Guardians, so I knew she was telling the truth.
“We started working together. She helped me with the children, and I helped with conditions in Mortal City—food and medicine for poor families or supplies for the healers, whatever she requested. Your mother and I were never friends, or even friendly , but together, we saved many people.”
The thought of Luther and my mother working so closely provoked a web of conflicting emotions. I couldn’t resist a pang of jealousy that he knew a side of her I’d never seen. And what had she thought of him? What would she think of my decision to give him my heart?
“As I began to trust her, I gave her freedom to move around the palace unescorted. That turned out to be a mistake. She took advantage and spied on the family—including me. When I found out and confronted her, she told me she had overheard me admit I was a half-mortal in an argument with my father. She threatened to tell everyone the truth and have me executed if I got in her way.”
I swallowed hard. It was difficult to imagine the mother I knew spying on patients and threatening something so vicious. Then again, I was beginning to see that “ the mother I knew ” had only ever been half of the story.
“Wouldn’t King Ulther have pardoned you?” I asked.
His eyes wandered as his expression turned pensive. “Perhaps. I wonder, sometimes, if he knew the truth. If that wasn’t the very reason he made me Keeper of the Laws...” He went silent for a moment, then shook his head. “It didn’t matter. Even if he had, the Twenty Houses would have demanded someone else be put in charge of the half-mortal executions. I couldn’t risk that.”
He hesitated again. “And, to be honest, I didn’t entirely object to what your mother was doing. Under her leadership, the Guardians weren’t violent. They stole food from the palace we could afford to replace. They intercepted shipments of silks to the wealthiest houses, then ruined them to make a point. When a mortal was accused of frivolous charges, they often snuck them out of Lumnos before they could be caught. I couldn’t take issue with any of those acts.”
My heart wrenched. That was what I’d hoped for when I joined the Guardians, not Vance’s quest for violence. I wished so badly I could have joined under my mother’s leadership. Had she kept it from me to protect me because she knew I was Descended—or because she didn’t trust me?
Luther let out a long sigh. “I had been fighting in secret for so long, trying to use what influence I had to make a difference. Taran and Alixe knew some of it, but I kept them at a distance to protect them if I was caught. When I saw what your mother was doing, and how she wasn’t afraid to put herself at risk...”
“You weren’t alone anymore,” I finished.
He nodded. “So I gave in to her demands. Sometimes she would tell me what she was up to, other times she wouldn’t, like when she got your brother into the Descended school.”
“Did she ever mention me?”
“Only once. She said if I came anywhere near you, if I even looked into you or had you followed, she would have me destroyed. There were times when I knew her threats were bluster, but on this, I believed her. She took protecting you very seriously.”
“And you never wondered why?”
He hesitated, shoulders tensing. “It’s not... uncommon that Descended men and mortal women...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That is, as the presumed heir, sometimes... I found that some women... not that you would ever, of course, but...”
I grinned. “You thought she was worried we might sleep together if we met?”
Faint color rose to his cheeks. Luther Corbois, the mighty and terrifying Prince of Lumnos, was blushing . Over me .
“Gods forbid that ever happen,” I said, my smile growing as I snaked my arms around him and pressed my chest to his.
He grunted, then leaned in and kissed the curve of my neck. “You laugh now, but I might be a dead man when we get her out of that prison.”
If we get her out , I thought, my smile fading. Saving my mother from the wrath of the Crowns was a mountain even Luther Corbois might not be able to climb.
“How did you get her to the island?” I asked.
“The King was too sick to attend the Forging Day ritual, so the Crowns asked me to bring a vial of his blood. Your mother found out and demanded to come with me. She claimed there was a rare medicine only available on the island, and she wanted time to harvest a large supply. I hadn’t yet learned about flameroot, or I would have said no. She believed the King would die soon and planned to return at my coronation. I warned her there was no guarantee that would happen, but she was willing to take that risk.”
“So you had no idea what she and the Guardians planned to do?”
A shadow of hurt built in his eyes. “Many people were killed that day. You could have been killed. I would never contribute to that.”
I dipped my chin to hide my face and the shame it would reveal. The weight of this secret had been burying me alive for so long. Though I was anxious to be free of it, I feared what it might cost me.
“I did,” I said softly.
“You did what?”
I leaned away, feeling undeserving of his embrace. “I contributed. I helped them.”
A long, unbearable silence stretched on.
“You knew they were going to attack?”
“No, but...” I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at him. “I was a Guardian, Luther. I helped them gather information. They used it for the armory attack and—”
“I know.”
I sat straighter. “You do?”
“I’ve known for a while. When you took over your mother’s role at the palace, I began to suspect. Then I saw you entering their meetings. When I heard you’d begun treating patients in Lumnos City, I assumed it was to spy. And besides—” His lips curved as he tilted my chin up. “—you’re terrible at hiding your emotions. Every time the Guardians came up, you’d get that same tortured, guilty expression you’re wearing now.”
He brushed his thumb over my forehead, smoothing away the crease between my brows.
“You’re not angry?” I asked.
“No. I’ve always known how much the mortals mean to you. It’s hardly a shock you would join the rebel effort.”
My body sagged as weeks of bottled tension melted away in an instant, replaced by a stunning kind of awe.
Luther had known. He’d known .
And he’d sworn to serve anyway.
His loyalty to me had always left me breathless, but this was something more, a faith that went beyond all sense and reason. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t me he had believed in so strongly, but rather the goddess Lumnos. He’d devote himself as fiercely to any Crown she picked.
But my heart didn’t quite believe it.
“I thought I would be helping people,” I said, sighing. “I didn’t realize how far the Guardians were willing to go.”
“When your mother left for the island, she assured me they wouldn’t cause trouble. I was a fool to believe her. I should have seen the armory attack coming—and the attack at the Ascension Ball.”
I thought back on what Cordellia had told me and frowned. “I don’t think my mother ordered those attacks. The man in charge of the Lumnos cell now, Vance, he—” My back stiffened. I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes going wide. “Luther, my blood. ”
His hands tightened on my hips, but I jerked away and scrambled to my feet. “We have to go—we have to get back to Lumnos right now. We can’t wait—we can’t let him—”
“Diem,” Luther cut in, standing and clamping his hands on my shoulders to hold me in place. “Explain.”
“Vance—he took my blood. The day you came with Sorae, he was stealing it to use on the palace bloodlocks.” I clutched at Luther’s arms. “He’s going to sneak in and kill everyone. We have to get back before he does or... or—”
“Did you give your blood to him, or did he take it?”
“We need to get back. Teller, Lily—they’re in danger!”
“Did you give it to him?”
I blinked at him, not understanding. “I... he...”
“Did you want him to have it?” Luther cocked his head, his expression more curious than concerned. “Did you give it of your own free will?”
“Of course not,” I gasped. “He and his men held me down and cut me open.”
His eyes turned stormy. “Then it’s useless. Bloodlocks only work with blood that is willingly given.”
Air rushed from my lungs. I slumped against him as my hammering heart slowed its rhythm.
“Tell me what you know about this Vance .” He hissed the name like venom, the promise of vengeance rolling like thunder in his tone.
“He’s dangerous, Luther. I’m not sure there’s any line he won’t cross. And he’s not afraid to die.”
“Good. I’ll make sure he gets his wish.”
A shiver crept up my spine, and I looked away.
Luther said nothing for a moment, and then his hand rose to my face, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone. “You don’t want him hurt,” he said slowly, sounding surprised. “Even after what he’s done—you would spare his life.”
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “When my temper flares, I feel ready to slay the world. But when the sword is in my hand and the moment of truth comes... I worry I’m not strong enough to do what must be done.” My head drooped low. “A Queen should have more courage than this.”
Luther’s broad hands settled firmly beneath my jaw. “Diem Bellator.”
His use of my name—my real name, and not Diem Corbois or Her Majesty, as I was known to the Descended world—won back my gaze.
His jaw was set, his eyes narrow, his dark brows crowded in tight. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was furious with me.
But what I saw in his eyes wasn’t anger—it was a sense of wonder, enrobed in a boundless, eternal fidelity.
“Don’t you dare mistake compassion for lack of courage,” he growled. “Anyone can slaughter their enemies. Hate is easy—it’s mercy that requires the greater strength. I’ll be damned if I let you believe that beautiful heart of yours is a weakness. Trust your instincts, my Queen—above all else, trust yourself .”
His mouth met mine with a fiery passion that burned of his faith. Every press of his lips was a confession, every stroke of his tongue a fervent prayer. It lit me up from within, coursing through my blood and filling my chest with an emotion so strong I dared not name it.
He had always believed in me. Not in a blind, oblivious way—he, perhaps more than anyone, knew I could falter. He’d been the one to pick up the pieces after so many of my mistakes.
He believed in who I was and what I could do. He saw my vision for what Emarion could be, and the strength that his conviction gave me was incalculable.
With Luther at my side, I felt invincible. And we would need that in the days to come.
I placed my palm above his heart on the curious patch of smooth, unmarred skin that interrupted the line of his scar. “I was so scared I’d lost you,” I whispered. “After the attack, I thought...”
“Never.” He placed his palm over my heart in a mirror image of my gesture. “I’m with you until the very end.”
“Promise?” I asked, knowing the solemn weight that word carried with him.
He smiled back at me, earnest and without reserve. “I promise.”
“ That’s it, ” Taran’s voice shouted. “ I’m going in! ”
The cloak over the opening flapped loudly as Taran flung it away and stomped inside, a bundle of cloth tucked beneath his arm. Sunny rays of light streamed in and illuminated our unusual embrace, Luther wearing only his undergarments while I drowned in layer upon layer of his oversized clothes.
Taran halted in place, perching his hands on his hips as he slowly looked us over. A suggestive grin spread across his face.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyebrows dancing.
“No,” I said innocently.
“Yes,” Luther muttered.
“You know, Queenie, it’s a lot easier to—” Taran made an obscene gesture with his hands. “—if you both take your clothes off , instead of putting each other’s clothes on .”
“Get out, Taran,” Luther ordered.
“But I have a present for Her Majesty.” He tossed me the bundle, which I recognized as my clothes, now dried—and somehow cleaned of the dead mortal’s blood.
I shot him a questioning look, and he shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Alixe found a stream nearby. The shirt was already wet, so we thought a quick rinse couldn’t hurt.”
A lump formed in my throat at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. I walked over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Taran.”
He swung an arm around my waist and hauled me into his side, then grinned at Luther. “You know cousin, if you ever need a third—”
“ Out ,” Luther barked.
“Fine, but if you two don’t get out here soon, I’m making Lu wear Alixe’s clothes next.” Taran backed out of the hollow, winking at me before he pulled the cloak back into place.
I set the bundle down and began to remove Luther’s clothes, first slipping off his overcoat, then tugging his socks free of my feet.
Luther stood nearby to collect each discarded item, politely averting his eyes. “I can leave, if you’d like some privacy.”
I shot him a coy smile and shrugged. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen already.”
With a fair amount of reluctance, I pulled off his sweater, already missing the way the warm, luxurious fabric had cocooned me in his scent. As I handed it off to him, his eyes stayed locked with mine, and it was the profound affection in his eyes, not my bare upper body, that had my cheeks flushing.
I turned my back to him and quickly shimmied out of his pants, tossing them over my shoulder with a nervous laugh, then hurried to put on my own undergarments.
“You know,” I teased as I struggled to secure my bandeau, “you’ve seen me unclothed so many times, when we finally get a night alone together, there’s hardly going to be anything worth looking at.”
I stilled at the brush of his fingers against my skin. He pulled the straps from my hands and deftly secured the clasp. My back arched as his knuckles ran a slow trail up my spine.
I held my breath as he brushed the hair away from my ear and leaned in close.
“Diem, when you and I finally get a night alone together, looking will be the least of what I do to you.”
After discussing our options, we decided to stay put for the day. We were well situated, with a stream nearby and overgrowth for easy hiding if the Guardians came searching. If there was no sign of them by dawn, we would set off for Arboros City to gather supplies for the long trip home.
With hours to kill, and against Luther’s ardent insistence that we stay hidden, I’d taken the three of them out foraging for food. Being reunited with my friends and unburdened of the secrets I’d kept from Luther had me in high spirits, and I jumped eagerly at the opportunity to show them a bit of the forest lifestyle I’d grown up in.
I first taught them how to scavenge for wild berries, avoiding poisonous white and yellow types in favor of blues and blacks, and how to test the juices against the skin to ensure they were safe to eat.
I showed them tricks to distinguish edible mushrooms from those that would leave you drooling and seeing fae—and talked Taran out of trying the latter “ just for fun .”
They watched with shock as I nimbly scurried up trees to pluck eggs from unattended nests, then whittled a spear from a fallen branch and spiked a handful of trout from the nearby stream.
I taught them how to make basic medicines—a salve for burns, a tincture for clotting, and a boiled root that could be chewed to ease swelling or pain. Though we were all hale and in no need of healing, I had no idea what the months ahead would bring. If I could give them any extra advantage at surviving, I would take it.
By the time the sun set and we made our way back to the hollow, our arms were full with a hearty bounty.
“Is this really how you lived in Mortal City?” Taran asked. “Running around the woods stealing eggs and stabbing fish?”
“In a way,” I said. “Most mortals couldn’t afford to pay for the work we did as healers. Foraging helped us keep the healers’ center stocked, and hunting kept food on our dinner table. My father sold the extra meat and hides at the market so we could afford the Crown’s taxes.”
The three cousins exchanged uncomfortable looks. Those taxes had funded their privileged lives at the palace and purchased the fancy blades and fine clothes they now wore on their bodies.
“I never enforced the penalties for unpaid taxes,” Luther murmured. “If a mortal couldn’t pay, I made sure the funds became available to them in other ways.”
Taran and Alixe stared at him in surprise, evidently unaware of this part of his efforts.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, “but it does not relieve the extreme lengths many mortals were forced to go to avoid that risk altogether.”
Their faces looked so patently ashamed that I took pity on them and shrugged it off.
“It wasn’t just necessity. The forest was fun .” I grinned at the wealth of memories that surfaced. “Teller and I would explore and imagine grand adventures of life outside Mortal City. It’s where I bonded with my father while hunting and began learning my trade from my mother. It’s where I had most of my... um... romantic activities.”
Luther growled, and Taran cackled loudly and punched him in the arm.
I shot him a sympathetic smile. “I could spend a lifetime in the palace, and I think I’ll still always feel the most me out among the trees.”
Taran nudged my side. “I’m glad we got to see this side of you, even if we did nearly die in the process. When we get back to Lumnos, we’ll have to raze the royal lodge and build a campsite instead.”
“Don’t go that far.” My gaze caught Luther’s. “I have a fond memory or two at the lodge, as well.”
His eyes gleamed behind his stoic veneer. “Once we’re back in Lumnos, you could spend more time there, if you’d like. Many Crowns ruled from the lodge when they wished to be alone.”
“Or almost alone,” Taran quipped, poking Luther with the end of my spear.
Luther grabbed a fish off its tip and whipped it toward Taran, who yelped as it slapped his cheek with a wet smack , but the heated look Luther shot me said he wasn’t opposed to Taran’s suggestion.
“Cousins, please stop playing with our dinner,” Alixe scolded.
Taran handed off the spear to Alixe and unceremoniously dumped the bushel of berries he’d gathered into my arms. “Sorry, Queenie. Lu’s gotta pay for that one.”
Taran threw his head back and let out a wild roar. Alixe groaned and rolled her eyes, but Luther’s expression turned exhilaratingly savage. He barely had time to shrug off his overcoat, its pockets bursting with mushrooms and eggs, before Taran came barreling into him.
“There’s no magic out here, Princess,” Taran yelled triumphantly, ramming a fist into Luther’s ribs. “You might have a fair fight for once in your life.”
“I’ve never needed magic to put you on your ass,” Luther grunted back as he drove a shoulder into Taran’s torso.
They tumbled to the ground in a flurry of blows and swears. This was no doubt a regular occurrence, as they paused in unison just long enough to rip their shirts off and set aside their weapons before clashing again. The glow of the sun’s final rays turned their skin into liquid gold as their muscular bodies rippled and flexed with effort.
I sauntered up to Alixe’s side, humming in appreciation. “A lot of mortal women would pay their life savings to watch this. And men.”
She crossed her arms, looking significantly less enthralled. “A lot of Descended would, too.”
Luther pinned Taran to the ground and glanced up at me with a wild-eyed smirk that had my stomach dancing.
“Think I can tell a few more sad stories and guilt them into oiling up and wrestling for the good of the realm?” I asked Alixe. “I could probably make enough to replace the Crown’s taxes entirely.”
“Taran will do it,” she said. “Just bribe him with a cask of good wine.”
“And Luther? What do I bribe him with?”
She glanced at me and dragged her eyes up and down my body pointedly in response.
She turned back to our campsite and I reluctantly followed with one final look at the free show. When we got to the hollow, we dumped the bounty we’d collected into a pile and set about separating the items and brushing away the stray dirt.
Eventually, Luther and Taran joined us, arms draped around each other’s shoulders, sweating and panting and looking distracting enough to make my cheeks hot.
“Who won?” I asked.
“Me,” they both answered.
Alixe frowned at the spear of fish. “We could build a fire to roast them, but I’m not sure how we would get it alight. I lost my flint during the battle.”
“I can manage that,” I answered.
“Your magic is back?” Taran asked, and I shook my head. “Then how?”
It was an effort not to roll my eyes. As formidable as they were, with the best education and training gold could buy, I sometimes forgot just how magic-dependent their upbringing had been.
“Have you learned nothing from me today?” I said. “The forest always provides.”
I set about gathering the items I would need while the others collected wood. When I finally crouched at our makeshift firepit to generate the glowing embers, Alixe watched with rapt fascination. Once the fire was lit and roaring, she made me repeat the process again and again, then she pulled together her own supplies to practice until she’d done it successfully several times.
“I’m surprised they didn’t teach you in the guard,” I said as we turned our skewered fish over the flames. “It’s one of the first survival skills I learned.”
The three Corbois glanced awkwardly at each other.
“Descended have little need for survival skills,” Alixe answered after a long silence. “If we leave the cities, we bring a caravan of supplies. If there’s anything we run out of or forget...” She hesitated.
“You simply take it from the first mortal you find,” I answered for her, and she winced and nodded.
I knew well the laws permitting Descended soldiers to seize any possession from a mortal without repayment “ in instances of urgent need .” My father had lost many a haul of freshly caught game when hunting near them in the woods. It seemed urgent need more often translated to passing fancy .
I bit back a snide retort, reminding myself that these Descended, at least, were trying.
But it was times like these where I understood the Guardians the most. Though I adored the three Descended sitting beside me, when confronted so plainly with their obliviousness, the urge to unleash all my anger at them for years of injustice from their kind could be difficult to withstand.
Luther’s knee nudged mine. “Things will change,” he said quietly. “We will change them.”
My jaw tightened. “Yes. We will.”