Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
A fter dinner, we were ushered into a small room awash in the trembling glow of firelight. Hundreds of candles were nestled into nooks along the walls, trails of dripping wax cascading over every ledge. Smoky trails of sweet incense marbled the air, mixing with the twang of a stringed instrument from a musician that was nowhere to be found.
The Centenaries sprawled across plush chaises and nests of cushions scattered around the room. Silver platters of powders and pills were offered up alongside various liqueurs, and eyes glassy as sobriety slipped off to bed.
After I’d assured her—repeatedly, vehemently—that she was off-duty for the night, Alixe became a popular attraction. She was currently holding court in the center of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of lust-addled Centenaries scooting closer with every word she spoke.
Luther, on the other hand, had isolated himself the instant we walked in. He’d tucked into a corner, enrobed in shadows that seemed to fit his mood. Hagface briefly joined his side, where her overloud giggling turned my dial from annoyed to murderous, but whatever he said sent her sulking away moments later.
While the Queen had vanished to places unknown, Taran, Zalaric, and I had acquired our own pack of curious Centenaries.
“Is this what you do every night?” I asked them, and they nodded as one. “You don’t ever spend your evenings in the city?”
“Why would we do that?” one asked. “Everything we need is brought to the palace for us.”
“Unless we’re working, we have no reason to go into the city,” another added.
“But it’s so remarkable! The food stalls, the markets, all the things to see and do. There’s nothing like it on the continent. If I lived here, I’d be in the fighting pits every night.” My mischievous grin was met with a sea of blank stares.
One of them angled their head. “Why would we do that when we could be here?”
I looked at Zalaric. He raised his eyebrows with an amused smile and silently sipped on his drink.
For someone as sheltered as me, Umbros was mesmerizing. The diverse mix of cultures was exotic and fascinating, teeming with life. I could explore its secrets for decades and barely scratch the surface of what this realm had to offer. I couldn’t understand how these apex predators could have such power and access, yet isolate themselves so completely.
“This never gets boring?” I prodded. “Spending every night locked away up here, drinking and...” My eyes grew larger as I spied a trio of Centenaries across the room, naked and fucking on a daybed. “...everything else?”
“Boring?” another asked incredulously. “Her Majesty ensures our every desire is fulfilled. How could that be boring?”
“Sounds like a great deal to me,” Taran said brightly. I shot him a frown, and his grin vanished. “Er, not a great deal. A... terrible deal? Awful!”
“Your upbringing is showing, Your Majesty,” Zalaric teased. “It takes being denied what you want to understand the power of wanting more. Satisfaction is the death of curiosity. And this group has been satisfied in abundance.”
“I don’t get everything I want,” Taran grumbled.
“No? Name one thing you’ve ever really, truly yearned for that the Corbois name couldn’t buy.”
Taran glared down into his glass. Zalaric laughed triumphantly, taking his silence as an admission of defeat, but I saw the shadow that passed over Taran’s face. The strife in his family was a painful rift no amount of money or power could resolve. I tucked my hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
“I understand,” a voice called out.
The group shifted to reveal Drusila, the mated Centenary. Now that she was standing, I could see the prominent swell of her growing belly beneath her dress—likely well into her third trimester, I’d guess.
“Her Majesty lets my mate live in the palace. He enjoyed all the luxuries at first, but lately...” She sighed, rubbing the mark on her wrist. “He’s from Meros. He’s a sailor at heart. He longs to explore the world, but as a Centenary, my place is here.”
“We warned you this would happen,” another said. “You should have mated with your own kind.”
Drusila stroked a thumb across her tattoo, and its glimmering ink brightened. “The heart doesn’t care who it should love. Only who makes it sing.”
“Indeed,” I murmured. I thought of my father, who walked away from his career for my mother. Teller and Lily, and their ill-fated love. And Luther...
My eyes found him instantly. Yrselle had returned, and they were talking alone in his corner. He didn’t look happy about it, his scowl carving progressively deeper.
His gaze snapped to mine. I started to turn away, but something roiling in his stormy expression made me linger. Something that sent icy fingers raking down my back.
“Can I see it?”
Taran’s voice dragged my focus back to the group. He was looking at Drusila’s wrist, his eyes round and aglow. She held it out to him, but as he reached for it, she jerked back.
“You may look, but I don’t let anyone touch it,” she said firmly. “Only my mate.”
He let out a dreamy sigh, seeming almost enchanted by her scolding. He nodded eagerly and clasped his hands behind his back.
She held it out again, and Taran and I both leaned in. It wasn’t a tattoo at all, I realized, at least not one I’d ever seen before. The symbol—an intricate knot of swirling lines that resembled two hearts forging into a dagger—seemed alive beneath her skin. It had a dull, silvery shimmer, but when her finger ran across it, it pulsed with a soft, warm glow.
“It’s so beautiful,” Taran breathed. “No matter how many I see, I never get sick of them.”
She beamed. “I know all marks look similar, but I really think ours is the prettiest.”
“It’s lovely,” I agreed. “But, um... you’ll have to forgive me, but... what is it?”
The entire group gawked at me, save for Taran, who looked lost in a daydream. I flushed, embarrassed by my ignorance.
“My mating mark,” Drusila said. “The ritual requires you to shed a drop of blood and commit your heart for all eternity. If the magic determines your love to be true and unconditional, then the bond is formed, and this mark appears where you bled. It connects you, in a way. He can feel when I touch mine, and—” She looked down as her mark flared brighter, then smiled fondly. “I can feel him, too.”
Taran clutched my hand to his chest and whimpered, resting his head against mine. “I want that.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic after all,” I teased. I glanced at Zalaric with a scheming grin. “What about you—would you like a mate?”
He kept his expression guarded. “Perhaps. If I ever meet someone worth mating.”
Taran tensed against me. He abruptly pulled away and stalked off across the room.
Zalaric’s eyes lowered, his mouth pulling tight.
“What about you, Your Majesty?” Drusila asked. “When you take a consort, do you plan to make them your mate, as well?”
“Oh. I, um ...”
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
Like a moth to a crackling flame, a bee to a thorny rose, my gaze was lured against its will to Luther’s corner.
A corner that now stood empty.
I glanced around the room in search of him, but he was nowhere to be found. Gone—without even a goodnight.
“I’m not sure,” I murmured. “Excuse me.”
I turned away from the group and sulked over to Taran, who was rifling through a coffer of small glass carafes. “Whatever you get, pour me one, too.”
He grunted in response.
I watched with increasing worry as he prepared the drinks in hard, angry movements, splashing liquids haphazardly into glasses and slamming bottles down like they’d done him a grievous wrong. By the time he handed me my drink, more liquid had made it onto the table than into the glass.
He threw his drink back in a single gulp, then grumbled and started on another.
“We’re leaving tomorrow, you know,” I said gently.
“The sooner the better,” he growled.
“Once we’re gone, you might never see him again.”
He stilled for a long moment, then resumed his violent bartending. “Fine. Good. Great .”
“He was only teasing you at dinner.” I arched my neck to catch his eye. “I think what you said really hurt him.”
“I doubt anything I said mattered to him. He only cares about himself.”
I laid a hand on his arm. “You know he helps Luther get the half-mortal children out of Lumnos?”
His movements slowed. “I know.”
“The Lumnos Descended at the inn—he saved them all. He provides shelter and training, and he gives them all the money from the inn. Does that seem like someone who only cares about himself?”
Conflict flickered over his features. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Zalaric burst into a fit of laughter with the Centenaries, two of whom had moved in close, their hands stroking his arm and back.
Taran scowled. “He doesn’t care what I think.” He waved a bottle at me. “Anyway, you’re one to talk. Were you trying to hurt Luther with your answers?”
I recoiled back. “No. I—” I stopped, frowned, then sighed heavily. “Maybe.”
“Thought so.”
I took a drink and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste that chased the fiery alcohol down my throat. Somehow, it felt fitting. “It’s complicated, Taran.”
“Everything’s complicated with Lu. He never gets the luxury of a simple choice. Lives are always hanging on his shoulders. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“I do.” Guilt gnawed at the last remnant of my anger. “I do,” I said again, quieter.
“Judging from how mad you are and how miserable he looks, I can guess whatever happened must be his fault, and I’ll give him hell for it if you want. But I’m certain of one thing.” Taran clamped a hand on my shoulder. “He would never hurt you on purpose. Never. Never .”
I took a shaky breath. “Taran, what if...” My voice dropped to a raw, vulnerable whisper. “What if he changed his mind? I know he cares for me, but what if it’s not... what if he doesn’t want—”
Taran straightened abruptly. “What are you, drunk?” He snatched the glass from my hand. “You’ve had too much. If I’m saying that, you know it’s bad.”
“I’m serious, Taran. What if—”
“Did you huff one of those glittery powders they were handing out? Did the Queen do that mind-wipey thing where she turns your brain into mush?” He squinted at me. “She did, didn’t she?”
“Taran.”
“Have you already forgotten the Challenging? The compass? The way he looked when you almost died back in Ignios? ‘Cause I’ll never forget that. He held you like you were his own heart, ripped out of his damn chest and beating in his arms.” My eyes burned, and his fists clenched. “It was that shithead Symond, wasn’t it? He put this in your head. Where is he, I’m gonna—” He turned to the room with a growl.
“No!” I clutched his arm. “No fighting while drunk. That’s an order.”
He groaned. “Now you sound like Luther.”
“That probably means I’m right.”
“Come on, I’ve been wanting to kick that scrawny creep’s ass for days. It’ll be fun. Quick, you distract the Queen, then I’ll—”
“Looking for me?” Yrselle said smoothly.
Both our heads snapped to the side as she approached.
“Oh, no,” I rushed out. “We were only—”
“As a matter of fact, we were. I have a bone to pick with y—”
I slapped my hand over Taran’s mouth. “He’s drunk. So drunk. Talking gibberish, really.”
“Nrrr, yrrr drnnnk,” his muffled voice shot back.
The dark arches of her eyebrows lifted slowly. “If there’s a problem, please, allow me to address it.”
“No problem here.” I speared Taran with the fiercest glare I could manage. “Right?”
He glared back silently.
“In fact, I think Taran was just about to go talk to Zalaric. Right? ”
His glare turned lethal.
I not-so-gently pushed him toward the group, and he reluctantly began to skulk away, glowering and mouthing: This isn’t over.
“Oh—Taran, was it?” the Queen called out. She smiled frostily. “Kill one of mine, and I kill one of yours. Understood?”
He glanced at Zalaric, then back at her. “Can I pick which one?”
“ Taran ,” I hissed.
“Fine,” he moaned, shoving his hands into his pockets and stomping away.
I half-smiled, half-cringed at Yrselle. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless. I think.”
“Oh, my warning was for his benefit, not mine. He may be a skilled fighter, but against our magic, even the finest warriors are brought to their knees.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I murmured, remembering how a single Centenary turned away a mortal army two hundred strong at my Ascension Ball. “I understand why the other Crowns fear you. Your Centenaries alone could turn the tide in a war.”
“I’m glad you recognize that.” She looked out, surveying the room. “You know, the others were quick to condemn me for culling my people down to one hundred. They called me barbaric and heartless.” She smiled bitterly to herself. “But they were secretly grateful. They wanted my people dead even more than the mortals did.”
I bit my tongue to hold back my opinion—that they were right, it was barbaric and heartless.
“It must have been difficult,” I said instead, “choosing which of your people to live or die.”
“Most were volunteers, actually.”
I balked. “They willingly chose to die?”
“It’s a long tradition in Umbros for our people to choose their own deaths. It’s a great honor, especially when done in service to the realm. Our elders and those whose magic was weak—they were happy to have a choice for a death that was meaningful. We have a Hall of Remembrance here with their portraits so their sacrifice will never be forgotten.”
“And those who didn’t volunteer?”
“As Crowns, we’re called to do whatever is required to protect our people. Even when it pains us.”
Again, I held my tongue.
“Did you enjoy my library today?” she asked.
“Indeed. I could have stayed there all day. Oh—I still have your key in my room.”
She waved me off. “Keep it. Consider it an open invitation to visit whenever you like.” Her eyes gleamed. “There is much here you may find useful.”
“I was surprised to see so many books on the mortal histories. There were several in the markets, too. I thought they’d all been destroyed.”
“I never agreed with those policies. And I never implemented them in my realm.” She sneered and shook her finger at me. “I’ve been a good friend to the mortals, you know. Never treated them badly. The Blessed Father knows. That’s why he told me everything. That’s why he showed me your—”
She stopped herself, pursing her lips.
“Showed you my what?” I stepped closer. “What did Umbros tell you?”
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
“Please, I need to kn—”
“ Tomorrow ,” she repeated curtly. “You’ve waited twenty years to know your fate, Diem Bellator. You can handle a few hours more.”
I huffed an irritable sigh. Yes, it was only a few hours, but I was sick of my future always feeling just out of reach. Close enough to fascinate me, terrify me, taunt me, inspire me, but never enough to take a firm hold.
“Mortals do have much freedom here,” I forced out, frustrated but resigned. “I hope future Umbros Crowns follow your example.”
She let out a short, loud laugh. “Oh, the next Crown isn’t going to do any of this.”
“How do you know?”
“I know my successor, and I know their plans. Crowns can always sense their own heirs—though most are wise enough to keep it to themselves, lest they find their death arriving sooner than expected.”
My eyebrows danced, leaping and dipping, as surprise mixed with dismay. “But the late Lumnos King was certain Luther would be his heir.”
“The knowledge only comes near the end of a Crown’s life. Your predecessor was unconscious in his final months. Had he awoken and met you, he might have recognized you as his heir.”
The King did have a brief moment of lucidity the morning of his death—he’d seemed to know me, even recognize me. I’d believed he was crazy, lost to the delusions of his illness.
You , he’d gasped. You’ve finally come .
I straightened suddenly. “Wait—you said you know your heir now. That means...”
“My reign is coming to an end.”
“Yrselle... Gods, I’m so sorry.”
She gave a wry smile. “You’re more sorry than you know. We could have been quite the allies, you and I.”
My heart sank. “How much time do you have?”
“Impossible to say. The awareness of one’s heir can come months before death for some Crowns, mere minutes for others.”
“Is there anything I can do? Any way to stop it from happening?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. Fate cannot be changed. That’s why it’s called fate .”
A heavy unease settled in my chest, though I wasn’t sure why. “Perhaps you might tell me your heir, so I may begin building an alliance with them now?”
She looked down, smiling to herself, then shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“I’ll keep it to myself, I swear it.”
“That’s not what worries me.”
“Then what is?”
“You,” she said simply. “My successor will be your most difficult adversary. They will stand in the way of what you need to do. They will drive a wedge between you and those you love, they will cost you a terrible price, and there’s a strong chance they’ll put you in a premature grave. I fear telling you now will only make it worse.”
I blinked. “Can you ask them to... not do any of that?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did.” Her lips curled up. “Unchangeable fate, remember?”
My hopes at an alliance crumbled to dust. Her words at dinner had lit an ember of hope in my soul that I might not lead this war alone—but now that ember had faded to dark, cold ash.
“Well, I don’t believe in fate.” I gritted my teeth. “Whatever you’ve seen—I can change it. Just tell me, give me a chance, and I’ll show you.”
She swished a hand. “You young new Crowns are always the same. So temperamental. Insist on making all your own mistakes.”
“Then why tell me anything at all? If the future’s set in stone, what good will it do?”
“Not everything is fated. You were destined to wear a Crown, and you’re destined to fight a war. Whether you win or lose remains to be seen.”
I scowled. As a mortal, my life had followed the narrowest of roads bordered by towering walls that left only the illusion of choice. When I became Queen, I’d naively believed those barriers had come tumbling down—that I might step off the paved path and forge a trail all my own.
But lately I felt like I’d only traded stone walls for gilded, bejeweled ones.
“For a bunch of dead people, the Kindred love meddling in our affairs,” I said under my breath, then immediately regretted it as she fixed me with a reproachful look.
“The Kindred are not dead, child.”
“I thought they died with their mortal lovers?”
“They bound their physical bodies so they could age and pass from this world together. But they did not die as you and I understand it. The afterlife is only for those with mortal blood in their veins—the mortals, the half-mortals, the Descended. The Kindred have no mortal blood. Their bodies perish, but they endure.”
“So they can’t ever die? They just... ‘ endure’ ? Forever?”
“Oh, their kind can die.”
“Then how?”
“Shockingly, the Blessed Father kept that detail all to himself,” she said wryly. “But it is an interesting question, isn’t it?”
She sipped her drink, then set her glass down and looked at me. “We have much to discuss tomorrow. It’s time you finally learn who you are and what you’re meant to do. But for now...” She reached across me to grab a trio of bottles by their necks, then tapped me on the nose. “I’m going to enjoy this evening like it’s my last.”
She winked one onyx eye at me, then turned and strode toward the fleshy pile of moaning, undulating Centenaries in the back of the room.
The sounds of their pleasure ignited my own smoldering desire. The gaudenscium had worked as advertised, leaving my blood heated and my core aching. But unlike Yrselle, the object of my longing could not be so easily fulfilled.
The reminder of it was more than I could take. I set off for the door. As I was exiting, I heard my name.
“Are you leaving?” Alixe asked, jogging toward me. “Perhaps I should escort you, just to be safe.”
“I’d prefer some time alone. I’ll be fine.” I glanced at the quickly growing orgy behind us. “I think the Centenaries have other things on their minds tonight.”
She rocked on her feet, seeming to hesitate. “I spoke with Luther today. He apologized. He told me he was proud of you for making me High General, and proud of me for earning the job, and...” Her cheeks flushed pink. “...well, he said many kind things. All is well between us now. I thought you’d want to know.”
My muscles eased from a tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying. “That is a relief, Alixe. I’m happy to hear it.”
“There is something else, though...” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her forehead wrinkling. “I’ve been thinking on what you asked me—about Luther acting strange. Today at the bathhouse, it was as if he wasn’t really there. Not distracted, but as if a piece of him was somehow... gone .” She worried her lip. “I thought I’d seen him at his lowest when he failed to rescue you from the Guardians. Now, though...”
The somber gravity on her face rattled my nerves. “And you don’t know why?”
“He claimed he was only tired.” She gave me a hard look. “Luther Corbois does not get tired. And if he does, he certainly doesn’t let anyone see it. You were right—something is very, very wrong.”