Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
W e caught up to Alixe and Taran, the latter of whom was hurling obscenities at a merchant who had declared him too much of a cute little doll to buy any of the weapons at their booth.
Zalaric sighed dramatically. “I suppose this is my fault, so I have to fix it, as well.”
“Must you? I want to see everyone’s faces when a little girl chokes a grown man half to death.”
Zalaric chuckled as he strode on ahead. “There you are, Theresa. Why are you arguing with that nice man, my pretty poppet?”
“I hope Taran remembers he can’t actually kill Zalaric or we’ll never get home,” Alixe said.
I’d like to see him try , I thought.
She laughed. “Me, too. It would be a hell of a match.”
I frowned. That was... odd.
She gestured for me to follow, then led me to a secluded corner. “I never got a chance to thank you properly for making me your High General.”
“No thanks needed—you earned it. You’re the best person for the job.”
She nodded low. “Your trust honors me greatly.”
“I’m sorry for putting you in a difficult spot with Luther—with both this and what happened in Ignios. I hate that I’ve come between you two.”
“He’ll get over it.” My brows rose in surprise, and she gave a wry smile. “I love Luther like a brother. He’s taught me so much, and I can only hope to be half the leader he’s been.”
“But?” I prodded.
“But... what you said to him was right, and I respect you all the more for seeing it. Under Ulther, the realm and its people were always Luther’s priority. That’s what made him such an admirable High General. Under your reign, though, he is...”
“Distracted?”
“Not at all. With you, his focus is crystal clear.”
I frowned. “It’s just in the wrong place.”
Her expression turned pensive. “When you first took the Crown, Luther told me a war was coming and you were the only one who could lead us through. He claimed you were hand-picked for that purpose by the Blessed Mother herself.”
The same words Luther had said to me at the Ascension Ball—a declaration of faith, his wholehearted certainty that I was fated to bring the people of Emarion together.
“He doesn’t just see you as our leader, Diem. He sees you as our salvation. Everyone’s salvation.”
I stared at my wringing hands. “That’s a heavy mantle to carry. I’m not sure I’m worthy of it.”
“Tell me about it,” she teased. “I’m now supposed to lead our salvation’s personal guard into war. No pressure at all.”
My laughed was tempered by the worry sinking in my chest. “Alixe, have you noticed a difference in him these past few days? Has he seemed... perhaps... a bit sad?”
She gave me a strange look. “Do you think he’s sad?”
I blushed, suddenly feeling silly for asking. “Forget I said anything. You and Taran have known him so much longer. If something were wrong, I’m sure you’d know.”
“It’s true we’ve known each other a long time, but we don’t know him the way you do. I’m not sure anyone does—or ever has.”
My heart perked its ears. “What do you mean?”
“Tell me—do you know how Luther knows Zalaric?” I nodded, and she shot me a pointed look. “I don’t.”
“That’s only one story.”
“Do you know how Luther got his scar?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I don’t. I didn’t know about the visions he was having, either. I definitely didn’t know he’s been helping the Guardians. Neither did Taran, and they’re even closer. And I’m willing to bet there are several more of his secrets you know that we don’t.”
I stared blankly, unsure how to respond.
“Luther has always made time to listen to whoever needs him, no matter how trivial the issue, but he never shares his own burdens.” Her expression turned solemn. “Except with you.”
My insides squirmed. I wrestled a burning urge to sprint back to the inn and curl up in his arms.
“Let’s head to the food market,” Zalaric called out to us, waving us over. “Tabitha here is getting peckish.”
An exasperated moan rang out behind him, and Alixe and I shared a smile as we set off to join them.
“What is this special project you’re working on?” I asked.
“Actually, I’ve been wanting to discuss it with you. It’s a tool of sorts. Something that could protect us against any enemy. But the details are... sensitive.” She glanced around. “Too sensitive to discuss so publicly.”
I nodded. “Keep working on it. We need every advantage we can get. Let’s talk more when we’re alone.”
As Zalaric led us across Umbros City toward the food markets, we approached the cavernous central hall. It was louder now than the day we’d arrived. Voices, so many voices—a deafening roar that left my thoughts grappling for space.
It made my magic restless, too. My godhood paced, awake and alert. Analyzing. Listening .
I winced and rubbed my temples. “In a hall this large, you’d think the sound wouldn’t be so intense.”
Taran grinned and threw an arm over my shoulder. “I don’t think that’s the sound, cousin . I think that’s the half-bottle of whiskey you polished off last night. You’re lucky this city has no sunlight.”
The pressure mounted with every step, a crushing weight against my skull. “It isn’t loud to you?”
“Not really. No more than any ball usually is.”
“I don’t exactly have much experience with balls,” I grumbled. Only my Ascension Ball, which hadn’t felt anything like this.
“I do. Do you need some advice? See, men really love it when you put them in your—”
I punched him hard in the side, drawing raucous laughter from Taran and stern looks of disapproval from onlookers who believed me to be attacking a defenseless little girl.
“You two do remember you’re supposed to be avoiding attention?” Zalaric scolded.
We were almost past the main hall when a flash of light flared up just as I passed. I stumbled, nearly knocking over a table of large glass jars. Inside each one, tiny fires danced in a spectrum of colors. They seemed to glow brighter the closer I came.
My focus caught on one containing a sapphire glow. As I reached for it, my fingertips brushed the smooth glass, and the flame arched to meet my touch. A calming burst of warmth shot through my arm.
I pulled back just as the proprietor turned to face us. “Hail, madam. You’ll not find anything like this in all the nine realms.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Bottled dragonfyre, pulled from the throats of the gryverns themselves. Got almost all nine of ‘em. Even...” His voice hushed. “Her Majesty’s own.”
He lifted the fabric draped over his table. Hidden beneath, barely visible, a line of jars contained whirling black flames.
“Used to have the full set,” he said proudly. “Sold the last of my Fortos stock a few years back. There’ll be no more where that came from, but I still have one left from the dead Montios beast.” He jerked his chin toward a sole jar in the center of his stash, where a pale lavender flame burned low and slow, little more than an inch in height.
My fingers twitched closer, pulled by some innate urge. I hesitated, hand hovering in midair.
“What do you use them for?”
“Whatever you like, madam. That’s none of my business.”
“How did you get them?”
He smirked. “That’s none of yours .”
“It’s a ruse to scam the tourists,” Zalaric whispered in my ear. “A bit of oil set alight.”
I wasn’t so convinced. Something about them called to me, and I was finding it harder and harder to ignore the lonely violet flame burning quietly at the center.
Like the Fortos gryvern, the Montios gryvern had been killed centuries ago during the Blood War. If this truly was its dragonfyre, it might be the last existing remnant of the creature that once guarded the desolate mountain realm.
“You must be new to Umbros,” the man mused, a gleam in his eye. “You should know better than to ask about the provenance of items sold in the dark markets. That kind of mistake can get you killed.” He rocked on his heels. “Lucky you only slipped up with me. I can be very forgetful—for my customers, of course.”
My magic stirred at the threat underlying his tone. Zalaric must have felt it in my aura, as he subtly edged away.
I pointed to the lilac flame. “How much for this one?”
“Ah, exquisite taste. For you, a special price.” He paused, sizing me up. “A thousand gold marks.”
I nearly choked. I’d never owned that much money in all my days combined .
I shook my head. “I don’t have—”
“Fifty,” Zalaric countered.
My face snapped to him in surprise.
The man scoffed. “Don’t insult me. It’s worth a hundred times that.”
“It’s only worth what someone’s willing to pay,” Zalaric shot back. “That gryvern’s been dead for centuries. If you haven’t sold it by now, it’s time for a discount.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Nine hundred, not a mark lower. This here’s the rarest item in the market. There won’t be another for sale ever again.”
“Until next month, when your stock has mysteriously replenished,” Zalaric muttered.
“You dare call me a liar?”
“We both know these don’t come from any gryverns. Give us a fair price.”
The merchant spat at his feet. “I should open one and make you stick your hand in. Then we’ll see if you doubt the power of my dragonfyre.”
“One hundred.”
The man waved him off. “Get out of my sight. I wouldn’t sell to you for any price.”
Zalaric rolled his eyes and tried to nudge me away, but I resisted, my gaze fixed on the lone jar at the center. My godhood hummed, equally intrigued.
“The Montios gryvern—what was its name?” I asked.
“Rymari,” the man answered gruffly. “She was the oldest of the gryverns, even though Montios was youngest of the Kindred. She was the most beautiful, too. Pure white from tongue to tail, with scales like opals. They say it never stops snowing in the place where she died.”
Zalaric leaned in to my ear. “You truly want it?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
My throat tightened watching the pale flame sway in its vessel. The other jars seemed to blaze with defiance, but this one was so small and weak, so dreadfully alone .
Rise , the voice inside me hissed.
“Rise,” I echoed without thinking.
The flame fluttered, then sparked as if lit anew. It flourished to twice its size, then doubled again, then once more, leaving the jar blazing with a blinding violet light.
“Another trick,” Zalaric said under his breath, though he sounded significantly less certain.
The merchant reached for the jar. As his fingers skimmed the glass, a sizzling sound rose from his hand, and he jerked back with a swear.
“Looks like this one found the owner it wants,” he said, laughing nervously. He rubbed at his hand, his skin now blooming bright red. I realized with a start that his eyes were brown—a mortal.
I turned to Alixe. “How much gold can we spare?” I was surprised as anyone to hear the words come out of my mouth.
She handed over her pouch. “The three of us brought ten thousand marks each. We can pull more from House Corbois’s account, if needed.”
I closed my eyes briefly. The ease with which she talked about such staggering, life-altering wealth, the kind no mortal in Lumnos would ever know...
I forced my resentment away and dug into the pouch, grabbing well over a thousand marks and shoving it toward the man. “Here.”
Zalaric stepped in front of my hand. “At least let me negotiate a better price.”
“Why bother?” I asked. “I did nothing to earn this gold. I’d rather a mortal have it than House Corbois.”
Amazement darted over his face, then softened into something deeper, a complex understanding. He gave me a slow once-over as if meeting me anew.
I turned back to the merchant and handed him the coins, then reached for the jar. The man lunged to stop me.
“Madam, wait, you’ll burn yourse—”
He fell silent as I cradled the jar in my hands. Though the glass was cool to my touch, once again a warm, soothing tingle spread up my arms.
“It’s not too hot for you?” he asked. The beginnings of suspicion threaded through his voice. “Where did you say you’re from?”
“She didn’t,” Zalaric said firmly. He plucked another gold coin from the pouch in my hand and held it up. “We’re not from anywhere. And you never saw us, isn’t that right?”
The merchant smiled. “Of course. I forget all my best customers. It’s the Umbros way.” He took Zalaric’s coin and scurried around the table. “At least let me wrap it up for you.”
I clutched the jar to my chest, feeling strangely protective of it. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s unwise to carry your purchases so openly. It will attract attention to us both.” He began to walk toward me. “Here, let me take—”
His hand closed around my wrist, and I froze.
And so did the flames.
All of them.
Every row, every jar, every hue of blazing fire—completely, impossibly still.
“Don’t touch her,” Taran growled, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade as he stepped forward.
The man’s jaw hung agape. “How... how did you...?”
The flames abruptly grew, both in brightness and heat. Within seconds, our entire half of the market was illuminated with their rainbow glow.
“Make it stop,” the man hissed, releasing my arm. “ Now , before the Centenaries come investigating.”
I backed away, shaking my head. “I didn’t... I don’t even know how—”
The jars began to vibrate. Glass clinked as they rattled against their shelves. In my arms, the purple flames thrashed against the walls of the vessel, almost as if it was trying to get to me—to protect me.
“ Stop ,” I pleaded under my breath.
The rattling immediately fell silent.
“Calm down,” I whispered. “I’m safe.”
Slowly, the flames faded back to their original state, and the brilliant light receded to a muted, flickering burn.
“How did you do that?” the man demanded.
Zalaric didn’t wait for me to answer—not that I would have had any answer to give. He threw an uneasy glance at a pair of red-caped men in thick body armor sauntering toward us, then pushed me in front of him. “Let’s go.”
I tucked the jar under my arm as we hurried away. Zalaric gave a languid roll of his wrist, and shadows crept in thick at our backs to shield us from sight.
“I—I think I’ve seen enough of Umbros,” I stammered, my mind reeling.
Alixe nodded. “Let’s go back to the inn.”
Zalaric looked disappointed. “Are you sure? I thought you might like to see the iron markets.” He glanced at Alixe. “There’s a vendor there who can help with the project you asked me about earlier.”
“You should go,” I told her. “That’s important. You too, Taran—I don’t need a chaperone. And Luther’s at the inn, so...” Taran grinned as I trailed off, his eyebrows wiggling, and my cheeks turned hot.
“We’ll at least walk you back,” Alixe said. The hard edge in her tone said it was a declaration, not an offer.
I relented, and we walked together through the maze of tunnels leading to the inn. The deafening buzz in my head eased, though it didn’t go silent until I waved goodbye and slipped into our suite.
I slumped against the door and leaned my head back, forcing my still-racing heart to calm. The room was dark and silent except for the crackle of the fireplace. I walked over to stoke it and noticed Luther stretched out on a divan, propped at an awkward angle with a newspaper open in his lap. His head had lolled to the side, his eyes closed.
Even in sleep, his face looked troubled. His skin was unusually pale, making his scar less prominent but his dark features even harsher.
On the table in front of him sat a stack of fresh gauze and a large bundle of herbs. They were the same kind I’d used to make my poultice, but these had been harvested differently and tied with twine.
I set down the jar of flame, then eased beside him, gingerly lifting his head and laying it in my lap.
For a long time, I sat in silence and watched him sleep, wrestling with my need to know whatever secret he was still hiding. It had become more than simple curiosity. It had taken on a sense of urgency, a foreboding warning not to let it go. It was the same feeling that had pushed me to buy the lavender fire—and the same feeling still nagging me to speak to the Umbros Queen.
But being Queen meant making compromises. I’d pushed Luther far enough. I would respect his wishes—even though I feared what might come of it.
I laid one hand on his chest and ran the other over his hair, my nails gently scratching his scalp. He made a satisfied noise low in his throat and stirred slightly. His eyes opened on me and lit with recognition.
He stiffened.
I stilled. “Is this alright?”
Stormy emotions rolled through his eyes, though eventually he nodded, and I continued my slow strokes. He set a small gold object down on the table and laid his hand on mine on his chest.
“Was that the compass?” I asked.
“I like to keep it nearby,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “Where are the others?”
“Still out with Zalaric.” I glanced at the herbs on the table. “I see you went shopping. Without me.” My eyes narrowed in jest. “How dare you.”
He gave a small smile, and my heart smiled back. “You said you were running low. I bought more, in case...” His muscles bunched under my hand as he swallowed. “...in case Taran needs them.”
I brushed my thumb along his sweat-beaded forehead, trying to smooth the deep creases of worry carved between his eyes. Though I felt confident Taran was healing, Luther’s distress hadn’t eased—it almost seemed to be worsening .
He glanced at the jar of purple flames. “What is that?”
“According to the seller, it’s bottled dragonfyre from the Montios gryvern. According to Zalaric, it’s a scam for gullible suckers. I’m choosing to believe the former.”
I smirked down at him, but he didn’t react, still watching the flame intensely.
“Why did you buy it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I had a feeling I should. A hunch, I suppose.”
He nodded slowly, like he’d already known that would be my answer.
“Have you ever been to Montios?” he asked.
“Not really. Henri and I went once, but we didn’t stay long.”
His chest rumbled at the mention of Henri. “Who did you visit there?”
“No one. We just wanted to step over the border and defy their ban on mortals. We thought it would be fun to see if we would get caught.”
“Fun? You could have been killed.”
I grinned. “That’s what made it fun.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s a miracle you made it to adulthood.”
“Father used to tell me that almost daily.” I tried to sound lighthearted, but my throat went tight at the memory of my father, my voice wobbling. Luther kissed my palm in silent support.
“What other realms have you been to?” he asked.
“All of them except Sophos now. This is my first time in Umbros. I’d never been to Ignios before, either. Hopefully I’ll never have to go back.”
His hand tightened on mine. “You should go to Sophos. Find an excuse to request a visit. It doesn’t have to be long—a day trip to the libraries, perhaps.”
“I doubt the Sophos Crown would welcome me. They already think I’m an imposter.”
“Then do what you did in Montios. Sneak to the border and step over it. Just for a moment.”
I frowned down at him. “What good would that do?”
“Call it a hunch.” He sat upright and closed the newspaper that had been sitting in his lap, then handed it to me. “I found this on a table in the tavern. There’s something in it you should see.”
I scanned the pages with genuine interest. We had nothing like this in Lumnos—at least not in Mortal City. The only news we got came from tavern gossip or mortal travelers passing through on the Ring Road.
Most of the newspaper highlighted local news—marriages, babies, and the like. It was unexpectedly quaint, given Umbros’s depraved reputation. Among all the sin and excess, thousands of refugees who had fled their own realms had built a thriving community here all their own.
What really caught my eye, though, were the images scattered among the printed stories. They were lifelike and vivid, seeming almost lit from within. They shimmered with hints of movement—hair blowing in the wind, eyes crinkling with a smile. It was a novel trick of magic, perhaps from a Lumnos illusion or one of Sophos’s innovations.
There were stories from elsewhere in the realm, including one on my coronation-gone-wrong. I was shocked to see an acknowledgment that the rebels had taken Coeur?le, especially since the Crowns had formally denied it.
“Do you think the Umbros Queen has seen this?” I asked incredulously.
“I’m not sure—but there’s something more important.” He pointed to a story on rebel attacks in the northern realms. Apparently, the Emarion Army had deployed a battalion of eighty Descended soldiers to Montios—and every last one had disappeared without a trace.
“Gods, an entire battalion? I didn’t realize the Guardians were that strong.”
“They’re not. But someone helping them is.” He reached over to turn the page for me, and my heart jumped into my throat.
Staring back was a face I’d never forget. Striking features, colorless and pale. Silvery, glittering skin. A brilliant glow radiating around him, illuminating a horde of armed mortals at his back.
“It’s the man from our vision,” I breathed. “The one who called me—”
“Daughter of the Forgotten,” he finished. “The same one who asked you to help him kill all the Descended.”
I stared into the man’s eyes. A shiver rippled along my spine and seemed to burrow straight down into my bones. It was like he was watching me somehow, seeing me from a continent away.
Like he knew me.
Like he was waiting for me.
The vision I’d had the day of the Challenging flashed through my mind. The battlefield. The dead bodies. The sword in my hand, and Luther at my side.
The man offering me his hand as I was torn apart by a desperate need to fight and a senseless urge to surrender .
I slammed the paper closed and shoved it to the side. My heart was thundering, my godhood reeling. “He’s real. And he’s here in Emarion.”
“And helping the Guardians,” Luther said.
“I should be happy to see Descended and mortals working together... but this doesn’t feel like a good thing, does it?”
When I met Luther’s gaze, his eyes were dark with shadows.
“No. It doesn’t.”