Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
O ur plan was simple.
Alixe and Zalaric would use magic to cloak the group from sight. I would remain visible—if the Centenaries sensed someone nearby, they would see me and think nothing of it. If anyone stopped me, I’d claim I couldn’t sleep and I was visiting Yrselle’s library to pass the time, flashing her key as evidence of her consent.
But as I strode brazenly down the palace pathways, spinning Yrselle’s key in my hand, something she’d said didn’t sit quite right.
An “ open invitation to visit ,” she’d called the key. Yet, moments later, she’d admitted her death was arriving soon—and that her successor would make themselves my enemy.
Why, then, would she encourage me to return? Did she want me to challenge her heir—here, in their own realm? What would that accomplish, other than putting my mother’s life at risk and—
I froze mid-step.
My mother .
Yrselle’s vote was the only thing preventing her execution. Leaving now, like this—how far would Yrselle go to get her revenge?
“Is something wrong?” Alixe’s voice whispered from what looked like an empty corner.
I didn’t answer, my mind lost in my grim choices. This was Yrselle’s dinner game made real. The palace was burning, and it fell to me to choose whom to save and whom to abandon to a fiery fate.
Who will live, and who will burn?
“Diem,” Luther’s voice called out.
I closed my eyes, letting the steadiness of it, of him, calm me.
If this was the game, my answer had not changed. I would save them all—or I’d die trying.
“I’m fine,” I answered. “Let’s keep going.”
Though laughter and sex-addled moans rang out unnervingly nearby, we somehow managed to reach the dining room unnoticed. To my relief, the room was dark and uninhabited, and the terrace was empty, no gryvern to be found. We crafted a paltry barricade of chairs in front of the door and settled in for an anxious wait.
While Taran tended to Luther, I tucked Yrselle’s key into my dress and slipped off to the balcony. The moon was no more than a fuzzy glow behind a canopy of winter clouds. She’d watched and laughed at my disastrous sail from Arboros. She was nowhere to be found during our escape in Ignios that set this awful path in motion. Tonight, it seemed she was hiding her eyes, unable to bear watching what was about to unfold.
Perhaps she was still mad at me for showing her up at my Ascension Ball.
Scattered stars peeked through the haze, twinkling enthusiastically as if cheering—or perhaps goading—me on.
“You lot have always been there,” I murmured to them. “You’ve seen it all, the good and the bad. And I’ve always given you a show, have I not?”
They sparkled in wordless response.
“If you have any wishes to grant, I could really use five or six of them.” My eyes burned with fresh tears, my voice falling to a whisper. “Though I’d be grateful for just the one.”
I laid my palm over my heart and thought of Drusila and her mate. Their mating bond ensured they’d be together in the afterlife. If I lost Luther, would he be waiting for me on the other side? Or would this be the end of us, our affection a forgotten blip on the eternal timeline of the ageless gods?
A wild, reckless instinct flared up in my heart. It hissed at me to run inside and beg him to be my mate— now , while we still had time. I gritted my teeth and forced it back with all the reasons it couldn’t happen. It was too soon—he’d think me a lovesick schoolgirl. Or maybe he would refuse, his ridiculously noble heart wanting me to move on and love again after his death. Or worse, he’d accept out of pity. Then the ritual would fail, and we’d both die of embarrassment before the godstone did its work.
Besides, I wasn’t the mating type, right? I was too selfish, too headstrong, too independent. I didn’t believe in fates and forevers.
But I did believe in love.
“Is this the part where you tell me to run off and leave you behind?” Alixe said as she strolled out on the balcony. “Because I’m not sure Luther or Taran will fall for that plan again.”
She stopped at my side, and I gave her a glum smile. “Not this time. I’m staying with Luther, for better or worse.”
She nodded. “I know that’s not an easy choice for you.”
“Do you think it’s the right one?”
“I’m not sure there is a right choice this time.” She stared up at the stars. “Ask me again in a few hours.”
I shut my eyes and reached out to Sorae. The Umbros coast was now clear in her horizon. She’d be here within the hour. I sent her our location and the plan for our escape—and a warning of what she might face when she arrived.
“Have you ever seen two gryverns battle?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve heard stories. The Ignios gryvern took on three at once during the Blood War when the other Crowns were trying to force Ignios into joining. It gravely wounded the Montios gryvern—they say that’s why she was weak enough for the Guardians to kill.” Her brows knit together. “I wonder if they dislike it, fighting each other. Especially being the only ones left of their kind.”
I looked over the edge at the pile of bones on the canyon floor. “I think they regret a great many things they’ve been ordered to do.”
“Sorae told you that?”
“No. Tybold did, in his own way.”
“The Ignios gryvern?” She turned fully to me. “He protected us that day in the desert, didn’t he? He led his King away so we could escape.” She shook her head, looking stunned. “I thought gryverns couldn’t disobey their Crowns.”
“They can’t.” I smirked. “His King is just shit at giving clear commands.”
“But why protect us? We’re not even from Ignios. And that gryvern is infamous for being a vicious monster.”
I fixed her with a hard look. “Spend a few millennia murdering innocent people against your will. You might turn into a monster, too.”
She fell silent after that, and we stood shoulder to shoulder in the evening darkness, the winter chill whipping through our hair.
“If I lose him,” I whispered, “I fear what I’m capable of, Alixe. What I’ll do if left alone to my rage.”
I wasn’t even sure she heard me amid the roar of the wind through the rocky gorges, but after a moment, her hand slipped into mine.
“You won’t be alone. We’ll all grieve together. We’ll be furious together. And then we’ll fight together. For him.”
I pressed hard on my trembling lips. “Yes. For him.”
Alixe’s fingers stiffened in mine. Her eyes narrowed on a clump of clouds to the north. “Do you hear that?”
I squinted and strained my ears, but I heard nothing over the whistling wind.
“Is it possible Sorae is here?” she asked.
“Doubtful. Why?”
She slowly stepped backward, dragging me along with her. “Any chance the Umbros gryvern wants to protect us, too?”
Then I heard it— thump, thump, thump .
“ Run .”
We sprinted inside to find the men seated at a table passing around a leftover flagon of ale.
“Gryvern,” I shouted. “Hide!”
They jumped to their feet. Taran slung Luther’s arm over his shoulder, and they hobbled to the shadow of an oversized wooden buffet. Zalaric slid behind a hanging tapestry, a shimmer of his light magic helping his outline disappear.
“Do illusions work on gryverns?” I asked Alixe.
“Perhaps. But it won’t stop the gryvern from hearing us. Or smelling us.”
The thumping grew louder, and I shoved her away. “Go. Hide.”
She hesitated. “What about you?”
“ Go! ”
Her jaw tensed, but she obeyed. She fled to a far corner and crouched low, giving me a final nod before vanishing into thin air.
I grabbed the flagon of ale, then ran to the terrace and splashed it over the entry. It wasn’t terribly pungent, but its odor might mask us long enough for the gryvern to lose interest and fly away.
A winged silhouette emerged from the clouds. My head whipped around in search of a hiding place, but in my panic, the best I could find was a gauzy, fluttering curtain. I swore softly and tucked myself into its pleats.
Seconds later, the floor rattled from an impact, followed by clawed talons clicking against stone. Through the filmy fabric, I spied the yellow eyes of the Umbros gryvern shining in the darkness.
Help , I said silently to my godhood. Do something. Hide us.
My magic turned its curious gaze my way. If it answered, I couldn’t tell. It seemed to be waiting. Watching.
The gryvern paced along the terrace edge, its long tail slapping loudly against the stone. My stomach churned—if it decided to rest here for the night, a violent confrontation would be unavoidable.
The beast dropped its nose to the floor and snuffled loudly in wide, sweeping arcs. I held my breath as it prowled past the area where Alixe and I had been standing.
Suddenly, it stilled. Turned around. Sniffed again. Tilted its head. Took another long, deliberate smell. Then snapped its attention to the dining room.
My sharp inhale was muffled behind my hand. The creature stomped toward me, then paused at the puddle of spilled ale. It sniffed and licked at the liquid, its head angling right, then left.
Broad feathered wings tucked in tight against its body as it splashed through the ale and stepped to the massive archway leading inside. With lethal focus, it surveyed the room, its scrutiny catching on the overturned chairs at the table, then again at the barricade we’d pushed against the door.
A skittering trill rumbled from the creature’s throat. It sank into a predatory crouch as it scanned the room again and settled its piercing gaze on the buffet near the wall.
Right where Taran and Luther were hiding.
My heart hurled itself against my ribs, desperate to get to him, as the gryvern moved closer. It jabbed its snout against the buffet, and the hefty wooden chest jostled as if it were no more than a pile of sticks.
I jolted in fear, causing the curtain to sway. The gryvern glared in my direction.
Time stretched on for an eternity as I cringed and waited to be discovered, but after an excruciating moment, the creature turned back to the buffet.
I craned my head to see more clearly and let out the tiniest sigh. Luther and Taran were invisible, cloaked behind what I guessed was Alixe’s illusion.
But my relief was cruelly cut short.
Trickles of crimson blood dripped seemingly from mid-air and pooled on the floor. Luther’s wound must have already seeped through the new dressings—a fact that terrified me almost as much as realizing I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
The gryvern gazed at the ruby splatters, tendrils of smoke curling around the end of its snout. With each new drip, it followed the trail upward, stopping eye-level with where I knew Luther’s wound must be. The creature’s lips curled back, its fangs bared. A harrowing growl reverberated through the silence.
Its jaw cracked open, and a dark glow began to swirl in its throat.
Dragonfyre .
I shoved the curtain aside.
“Looking for me?” I yelled across the room.
The gryvern’s head twisted back to face me, its slitted pupils growing wide.
Luther’s voice called my name, then cut off with a strangled sound—Taran’s intervention, no doubt.
“I’m the one you want,” I shouted. “Come over here and face me.”
The creature leapt toward me and crossed the expansive room in a handful of strides. I straightened my shoulders, refusing to cower, even as my hands trembled at my sides.
The gryvern stretched its head high and its wings wide to show off its impressive size. Fire-warmed breath brushed across my skin.
“I have no desire to hurt you. Or her.”
The gryvern watched me, giving no reaction.
“You can let us go. Fly away, pretend you’ve seen nothing. Your Queen will never know.”
Hot smoke hissed in my face in unhappy response.
“Fine. Tell her, then. But I beg of you, give me a head start—enough to avoid a battle so your Queen does not get hurt.”
The beast crouched back onto its haunches, seeming to weigh my pleas against its orders.
I took a risk and stepped forward. “You know she’s going to die soon, don’t you?”
Its golden eyes dimmed as its wings lowered almost imperceptibly.
“You gryverns can sense it, can’t you? The coming of a new Crown.” I edged forward another step. “I don’t want her to die, either. I want us to be allies. Look at my intentions—do you see it in me? Do you see that I only desire peace?”
Its gaze lowered to my chest as if it was reading my heart right through my skin. Its wings folded back against its body. Slowly, carefully, I raised my palm to its snout, letting my hand hover for a knee-shaking moment before I set it on the gryvern’s rough scales.
“Help me,” I pleaded. “Let me escape, and I will protect her as best I can.”
A tense, quiet moment passed between us. A ripple passed across its muscular body, and I felt the faintest press of its snout against my hand.
I let out a heavy breath. “Thank you. You w—”
Thump, thump, thump.
The gryvern and I looked toward the terrace in unison, then back at each other, two sets of wide eyes.
“It’s only my gryvern,” I rushed out. “She means no harm, I swear, she—”
A pulse of terror shot through the bond from Sorae as she swooped low in the sky and caught sight of me standing beneath the Umbros gryvern’s bared fangs. She speared for the balcony with a piercing war cry that promised death and destruction on my behalf.
The Umbros gryvern snapped at me, betrayal in its eyes.
“No, wait—it’s a mistake. She doesn’t know!”
Too late.
I winced at the deafening boom of the beast’s enraged roar. There wouldn’t be a soul in the palace who hadn’t heard it—and who wouldn’t come running, weapons drawn, in response.
“There,” I snapped, “you did your job. Now go find your Queen.”
The gryvern returned my angry scowl, then launched for the balcony.
“If you truly care about Yrselle,” I shouted after it, “keep her the hell away from me.”
My threat was met with another thunderous roar as it jumped and disappeared into the sky.
The others emerged from their hiding places and rushed to my side.
“What was that about?” Alixe asked. “The Umbros Queen is dying?”
I nodded and grabbed Luther’s other arm, then pulled it over my shoulder. I jerked my head at Taran and we started toward the terrace, Luther limping between us.
“How soon?” Luther gritted out between pained grunts.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Diem.” His tone was sharp. “You need to get your answers from her now , don’t you?”
“I need you,” I shot back. “ Alive .”
Rattling sounded from the corridor, followed by a cacophony of voices. A wood-cracking smack hit the door, and our makeshift barricade of chairs swayed precariously.
I swore under my breath. “Alixe, you take Luther. Get to the balcony and mount Sorae the second she arrives. Zalaric, you’re with me.”
They launched into action. I fortified my mental shield as Zalaric joined me, swirls of light and shadow already conjured in his palm.
“You plan to fight them?” he asked.
“Not exactly. Send your magic beneath the door. Try to keep them away from it, if you can. But if they get through, you run—fast. Get to the balcony. Don’t wait for me.”
He splayed his palms wide in front of him. Waterfalls of sizzling light unfurled in a pool at his feet and flowed toward the doorway, then disappeared beneath the gap at its base. Almost immediately, the angry shouts turned into yelps and cries of protest, and the forceful pounding came to a sudden stop.
I left him there and ran outside just in time to see Sorae skid onto the terrace, her claws screeching as they gouged a trail in the stone behind her. I didn’t know whether I ran to her or her to me, but we collided into each other, my arms clamped around her neck, her snout nuzzling protectively over my shoulder.
She trilled softly.
“I missed you, too,” I murmured. “This won’t be easy.”
She huffed and stomped a talon.
“I know you can do it. I trust you.”
I pressed a kiss between her eyes, a wordless burst of fondness passing between us.
“Take care of him,” I said sternly. “Whatever happens to me, get him home safe, understood? He is your priority. That’s an order.”
I didn’t wait for her acknowledgement. She couldn’t withhold it even if she wanted to.
“Is this necessary?” Luther grumbled as Taran used two belts to strap Luther to his chest.
“You nearly passed out in there,” Taran said. “If you go unconscious, we can’t have you falling, or Diem might swan dive off Sorae’s back to get you.”
“He’s right,” I said. “I would.”
His eyes narrowed at me, but there was no malice in it. Only a silent, simmering affection.
The sound of splintering wood shot from the dining room as chunks of broken chains flew out onto the balcony. I ran back inside to see Zalaric frozen in place, palms out, eyes glassy and dark.
He was still. Too still. Unnaturally still.
Torchlight leaked into the room from the corridor as the barricade crumbled and the door pushed inward, inch by inch. I grabbed Zalaric by the waist and dragged him outside.
“The Centenaries got to him,” I warned. “We have to get out of reach of their magic.”
Sorae crouched low so Taran could haul himself and Luther onto her back. Alixe swung her leg over and helped me wedge a stiffened Zalaric between her and Taran. Sorae’s legs quivered under the strain of their combined weight as she pushed to her feet.
Another boom echoed from inside. A door crashed open, and a flood of silhouettes appeared in the glow of the hallway.
“Get on,” Luther demanded. “Hurry.”
I avoided his stare and ran to Sorae’s front. “You remember the plan?”
Her golden eyes gleamed bright. A wave of worry shot through our bond.
“I know.” I lowered my voice so only she could hear. “I hate it, too. It’s the only way this works.”
The sound of running boots came rushing toward the balcony.
“Go, Sorae. Remember my order.”
“Diem, no ,” Luther snarled. He reached for me, and I lunged back, barely missing his grasp.
“Go!” I yelled.
With a final, helpless trill of protest, Sorae pushed off her back legs and launched into the sky. Luther’s furious shouts faded beneath the sound of beating wings.
Her figure grew smaller, and my heart wrenched in two. Even the patter of the Centenaries’ footsteps crowding behind me couldn’t pull my eyes away.
“That was a mistake,” a voice purred at my back, newly laced with poison rather than desire. “Her Majesty will not be disobeyed.”
“Her Majesty can get over it,” I sniped. “And if I were you, Symond, I’d tread very carefully. I’m feeling like a woman without much to lose.”
I turned on my heel and glared, orbs of blazing light hissing to life at my palms.
“Don’t be a fool,” he warned. “You might have pushed me out of your head, but you can’t take on all one hundred of us at once.”
“Why not? I’ve always loved a challenge.” An explosion of crackling sparks shot out in an arc at my feet, and the Centenaries stumbled over each other to back away.
Only Symond held his ground. The muscles under his goateed jaw pulled taut. “She’s going to kill you for this. He can’t be worth it.”
“He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.” My hands curled into claws, rage bubbling to the surface. “You knew he was dying, and you mocked him. You tortured him.”
“And you were happy to let me do it. I enjoyed his pain, and you enjoyed his jealousy.” He smirked icily. “He might be a better man than me. But if he is, do you really deserve him?”
Something cracked deep within me. I hurled my magic at Symond’s chest and growled as it snaked around his ribs and squeezed. He gasped for air, bones creaking, then snapping, but all the while, that taunting superiority stayed plastered on his face.
“Let him go, dear.”
The Centenaries parted, and Yrselle sauntered forward into the moonlight. As she did, her gryvern dove from the sky and slammed onto the terrace at my side. I eyed them both, backing a step toward the balcony’s edge.
“Let him go,” she said again, harsher.
Our gazes met, horns locked. I loosened my magic from Symond’s chest, though I let it hover an inch away.
“I warned you an attack on my people would not go unanswered,” she said.
“This is your fault. You knew Luther was hurt, and you kept it from me.”
“It wasn’t my truth to tell. Here in Umbros, we know how to keep a secret.”
My scowl darkened. “If he dies, I’ll hold you responsible.”
“He was doomed long before he crossed my border.” She frowned. “I admit, I did believe he had a larger role to play. The visions I saw...” Some inscrutable emotion fluttered over her features, then she shrugged. “There’s no coming back from injuries like that. His fate is sealed. It’s time you accept it.”
“No fate is ever sealed.”
“Oh, how I wish that were true.” She looked equal parts sympathetic and annoyed. “You accomplished what you wanted. Your friends are free. Now come inside.”
She swept an arm toward the dining room. I looked at it, then looked at her, taking the smallest step backward.
“I’ll come back,” I offered. “Once Luther is healed and my mother is safe, I’ll come back to Umbros, and we can talk for as long as you want.”
Her lips pressed tight. “I can’t let you leave, Diem. My people’s lives are on the line.”
“Lives are at risk in Lumnos, too. Give me a few days, that’s all I ask.”
“We do not have the luxury of time. Every day, he grows stronger. Soon, even you will not be able to stop him—and if that happens, this entire world will fall, and so will everyone in it.”
“Who, Yrselle? Who is ‘ he ’?”
“Come inside, and I’ll tell you.”
Doubt swirled in my chest. I didn’t much trust Yrselle—she seemed to have a fondness for answering disobedience with death—yet there was a grave sincerity in her voice that gave me pause. If there was any chance she was telling the truth...
But Luther.
Luther ...
Across the bond, Sorae felt my indecision. Even from this far distance, I could hear the soft rumble of her answering roar.
Soon, I soothed her. It’s only for a little while.
The Queen huffed. “This is boring me.” She looked at her Centenaries and flicked a hand in my direction. “Bring her inside. By force, if necessary.”
Immediately, a swarm of sharp-clawed fingers slammed against my mental shield. The impact punched the breath from my lungs. I staggered back and collided into one of the potted olive trees lining the balcony’s edge. It wobbled, then toppled to the side and disappeared over the rocky cliff. The ribbons tied to it pulled taut, and one by one, each of the other plants along the edge fell in a cascading wave, until there was nothing between me and the open canyon but a gust of winter wind.
A few Centenaries began to approach. I threw up my shield to keep them at bay, smirking as they smacked face-first into the shimmering dome. I was gloating so confidently I almost missed the rustling feathers of the Queen’s gryvern rearing on its hind legs. Rows of jagged fangs cracked wide with a bursting dam of black flames that surged in waves toward my feet.
Fight , my godhood snarled.
Panic shot through me, and instinct took over.
Magic spilled from my hands. Its angry energy seeped from my skin into the night air—air that suddenly felt unseasonably cold for a realm this far south, even in winter.
When I looked, I understood why. The half of my shield facing the gryvern was now coated in a blanket of glittering ice. Droplets of water slid in an arc to the ground as the dragonfyre heated the frozen barrier, but the shield held, each melted drop replaced by more ice, more frost, more snow.
I sucked in a gasp at the crust of shimmering ice crystals that tipped my fingers. My skin pebbled and my breath clouded in the impossibly frigid air.
Unable to get to me on foot, the Centenaries doubled their mental attacks. My own thoughts were crushed by the relentless hammering of voices in my head— Stop. Give in. Obey. I ground my teeth as I fought them off, my muscles twitching against the urge to do as they commanded. Though my vision spotted and my knees wobbled, I managed to hold them off.
“Impossible,” Symond breathed.
“You can’t begin to fathom what is possible,” the Queen crooned, her eyes on me. “End this, Diem. Let me show who you are and what you’re meant to do. It’s time to claim your inheritance in full.”
Something deep in me purred at her words, almost as if my godhood was... agreeing with her.
“We can’t get through, Your Majesty,” Symond admitted. “We need your help.”
“Careful, dear,” I said, taunting her with her own words. “This could be very revealing.”
She hesitated. Lines creased at the corners of her eyes and mouth as she weighed my challenge. If she backed down now, she’d look like a coward. But if she took me on and lost, she’d be blood in the water—surrounded by one hundred hungry sharks.
Apparently, the sharks won.
Her thought magic sliced into my head like a flaming arrow. My mental shield was weakened by the Centenaries’ barrage, and I felt her honeyed voice pierce through.
Give in now, she warned. I know your weaknesses. Do not force me to use them.
I shouted in protest as one leg involuntarily buckled. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Yrselle. Let us be allies, not enemies.”
Give in , she snarled in my head. You will dearly regret it if you don’t.
Her hold on me sank its claws deeper and forced me down to my knees.
“You see?” she said haughtily, flashing a triumphant smile to her Centenaries. “Even the mightiest of Crowns must kneel to me.”
I fell still.
Above my head, a circle of shadow took form. The dark matter swirled, thickening into ropey vines tangled in sharp thorns. Pinpricks of light winked into existence, along with hunks of jagged crystals.
“I am Diem Bellator.” I stared up through my lashes, the glow of the Crown casting ominous shadows down my face. “And I kneel for no one.”
Fight .
My godhood roared, its wrath mirroring my own. I gave myself over to its smoldering rage.
My mental shield dropped, and her thought magic crashed in from every angle. But instead of controlling me—it ignited me.
A silvery moon-bright glow shone from my skin, a wave of fire and frost coating me like armor. My blood boiled away to a rush of newfound energy searing through my veins.
I was invigorated. Indestructible. Invincible.
Immortal .
“You and I stood right here on this balcony at lunch,” I said, my voice sounding unearthly and foreign to my own ears. “Do you remember what you asked me?”
I pushed back up to my feet, heels at the edge of the cliff. My shoulders rolled back.
“You asked how much of my soul I was willing to set ablaze to see my plans through.” My chin rose. “And do you remember my answer?”
Yrselle’s eyes grew. “Diem—”
I spread my arms wide.
“All of it.”
I tilted my head back, and I fell.