Chapter 74
Chapter
Seventy-Four
“ H ow much longer are we going to wait, Sophos?” the Ignios King griped. “We can’t complete a ritual with only five Crowns.”
Doriel didn’t answer, too busy whispering with the Meros King, their heads stooped, their eyes repeatedly darting my way.
“I have to agree with fire-for-brains here,” the Faunos Queen said, leaning against her arch and boredly examining her nails. “We’ve waited long enough. Let’s try again some other time.”
“The Guardians may not let us come back another time,” I said.
Ignios’s orange eyes cut to me. “Why did they let us come this time? Let me guess—it has something to do with you?”
I shrank back into the Lumnos arch to hide from his view. My Crown had appeared on its own once I’d stepped on the island, refusing to be tucked away. Though its changes had thus far gone unnoticed, I wasn’t eager to draw any more attention just yet.
“Why don’t you go ask them yourself, Ignios?” Faunos ticked her head to the cluster of mortals hovering just outside the Kindred’s Temple. “They look as ready for a fight as you do.”
Indeed, they did. The knee-wobbling relief I’d felt when they let us through without incident had quickly turned to trepidation. They brandished their glares with as much unspoken threat as their weapons. One wrong move from either side would set this place ablaze.
“So sorry I’m late,” the Arboros Queen said cheerily as she ascended the steps to the dais. “There was some, ah... delay while I was docking.” She tossed polite smiles to the other Crowns but carefully avoided looking my way.
“Arboros,” I called out. “I’m glad you’re safe, I was—”
“It’s good that we’re all safe, after what happened last time,” she cut in. “What a terrible incident that was. Don’t you agree, Lumnos?”
Her moss-green eyes widened as she gave me a loaded stare, her head shaking almost imperceptibly.
I managed an awkward nod. Apparently, my mother was wrong—Arboros didn’t want anyone to know I’d seen her in the Guardians’ camp.
“How do we know this isn’t another trap?” Ignios asked. “The mortals know our realms are unattended.” He gestured to me. “She could be ambushing us like last time.”
“Lumnos didn’t have anything to do with that attack,” Doriel finally spoke up. “She swore to it on a bonded bargain. She’s innocent.”
“But her mother isn’t,” Meros muttered. He and Doriel exchanged a tense look.
“What are you two talking so much about?” Ignios demanded. “If there’s something to discuss, come out with it.”
Doriel’s attention slid expectantly to me. We were only missing Umbros now, but since her vote against me was a foregone conclusion—if she had even survived the attack on her realm—there was no point in delaying.
I drew in a deep breath. “Yes. Let’s begin.”
“We’re still missing three Crowns,” Arboros protested.
“We have everyone we need,” I said, hoping that was true. “I asked Doriel to call this meeting because I’d like to put a matter to a vote.” I shifted my weight. “I’d like to request a full pardon. For myself... and for my mother.”
The Meros King scowled.
The Faunos Queen snorted and shook her head.
The Ignios King laughed loud enough to be heard from Lumnos.
“I’ve committed no crime against the Crowns,” I rushed on. “In fact, I’ve committed no crime at all in any realm I’m not the Queen of.”
“You killed Fortos,” Ignios shot back.
Faunos snorted again. “Good for her. He was beastly—and not in the fun way.”
“She also freed half his prisoners, including all the rebels.” Ignios shot her a glare. “Even you can’t like that, Faunos.”
Her smirk faded, her yellow eyes narrowing on me. “No, I do not.”
I frowned. This was not going to plan.
“Fortos attacked me unprovoked. I was defending myself. As for the prisoners...” I squirmed. “It’s complicated.”
A round of groans and scoffs flew up.
“He was torturing them,” I hurried on. “Denying them food and water, drugging them to keep them docile, beating them and warping their bones. He was going to kill my mother without the Crowns’ vote. And he was imprisoning children. I couldn’t let that continue.” My chin rose. “And I won’t apologize for it. If Fortos has lost its humanity, it doesn’t deserve our prisons.”
“If what you say is true, Fortos deserved his fate,” Meros said. “But there’s still the matter of your mother. She’s responsible for attacks that killed people in all of our realms—including yours. Surely you’re not asking us to forgive that .”
“Not to forgive—to look forward. To choose peace over vengeance. The violence between the Crowns and the Guardians has gone on long enough. You’ve been trying to stop them by executing them or locking them away, but every Guardian you strike down inspires five more to rise in their place. The mortals are never going to stop fighting. Never . And they shouldn’t have to.”
I cast a hard look at each of them. “Everything has been taken from the mortals—their land, their homes, their books, their wealth. Half of you exile them, others crush them under high taxes and unfair laws, and the rest of you hide your eyes and convince yourself it’s not your problem to solve. But it is. How can we call ourselves caretakers of this continent if we’ve failed its native people? None of you—none of us —are without fault. None of us have done enough.”
Arboros wrung her hands and spoke quietly. “But who’s to say the Guardians will look forward? Umbros gave them safe harbor, and they slaughtered her people. How do we know our realms won’t be next?”
Fear flashed in her eyes. She’d welcomed the Guardians even more than Umbros, and now her realm was filled with them. If the rebels were turning on their allies, she could be the most vulnerable of all.
“There is a powerful Descended man hiding in the Forgotten Lands of Montios,” I said. “He is responsible for these recent attacks, not the Guardians. He has a grudge against the Crowns from the Blood War, and a small group of mortals is helping him take his revenge. My mother is... familiar with him. If you pardon us, she will command the Guardians not to join him, and I’ll...” My throat tightened. “I’ll kill him myself.”
Doriel stepped forward. “Two days ago, this man attacked my realm. I felt his magic—he’s far stronger than any of us, perhaps even stronger than all of us combined. Without Diem, my city would not have survived. She has my vote, and I encourage you all—” They shot a sidelong glance at Meros “—to vote in her favor, too.”
“Why do we need her?” Ignios asked. “If we know where he is, send in the army to get him.”
“Fortos already tried,” I said. “Every last soldier was killed. The army can’t defeat him.”
He sneered. “But you can?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Because he’s immune to magic, and so am I.”
A flutter of murmurs filled the dais.
“It’s true,” Doriel confirmed. “They aren’t just immune—they can absorb it. Attacking them only makes them stronger.”
“I knew something was off about you,” Ignios sniped. “How is this possible?”
Doriel and I exchanged a glance. We’d agreed on the boat to keep the tenth Kindred to ourselves, but there was only so much we could hide.
“According to my research, it’s a rare magic that only a few Descended have,” Doriel answered carefully. “As far as we know, they’re the only two alive who can do it.”
“That’s why I may be the only one who can do it,” I said. “With his immunity, he’ll easily kill anyone who comes for him. But he can’t kill me.”
Not exactly the truth. Though I knew my magic couldn’t hurt him, he had yet to strike at me—and I had no idea what would happen if he ever did.
“This man may be the greatest threat to Emarion we’ve ever seen,” Doriel said. “He could make the Blood War look like a skirmish. Our problems with the Guardians have to wait. We must defeat him first.”
No one spoke. As each Crown debated their vote, a pensive quiet draped the Temple, the only sound the crackling of the nine flaming cauldrons that rose above the arches lining the godstone dais.
My eyes drifted to the opening in the perimeter of portals—a gaping hole that pointed straight for the Forgotten Lands. For Omnos . It was a wonder no one had guessed the truth before.
Then again, that’s how the Kindred had always worked, erasing names and destroying evidence, convincing the world to forget rather than answer for their crimes. They’d obliterated one of their own as ruthlessly as they had dispensed with the Old Gods, and now it fell to me to clean up the mess they’d left behind. No matter how much it chafed at me, thanks to the bonded bargain, there was no turning back.
My resentment simmered as I watched the Crowns ponder whether my patricide would earn me forgiveness—a forgiveness I never owed to them in the first place.
A forgiveness they owed to me , and to a hundred thousand mortals and half-mortals just like me.
And to Ophiucae.
Suddenly, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
The sun had not yet set, its fiery orb perched above the horizon, but the full moon had just emerged from her slumber. Pale and bright, my ever-present and never-useful guardian, her silvery eyes spied to see what trouble I’d find myself in next.
“Well?” Doriel prodded. “Lumnos has my vote. What say the rest of you?”
Meros let out a heavy sigh. “You’re sure of this, Doriel? You’re certain of your plan?”
“A necessary evil, Obaneryn,” Doriel answered quietly. “Whatever it takes to protect our people.”
The golden beads adorning his long dreadlocks clinked as he wearily shook his head. His blue-green eyes darkened. “Aye, then. Lumnos has my vote.”
My pulse grew louder in my ears. One vote. I only needed one more vote . If I could at least secure a pardon for my mother to ensure she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life as a fugitive, all this might be worth it in the end.
“Arboros?” I asked, trying to hide the hope in my voice. I offered up a smile, friendly and conspiratorial. A smile that hinted at the dangerous secrets we shared—with just enough edge to remind her that my downfall could easily become hers, too. “Will you vote in my favor?”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. When they opened, she grimaced.
“No, I will not.”
My heart stopped.
“I have made my realm a place where all are welcome. If I make the wrong decision now, many good people may pay the price. I cannot risk that, not even for...” She trailed off, looking stricken.
Not even for you and your mother .
I finally understood why she’d silenced me earlier. She wasn’t trying to distance herself from the Guardians—she was distancing herself from me . I’d become so contagious an ally, even the simple act of voting with me could bring suspicion on her head.
She was throwing me to the wolves to save her own realm.
“I hope you understand,” she murmured.
I did. I would sacrifice anything to save my people, too—including my sire.
But my hopes were shattering too fast to offer her consolation.
“Faunos?” I croaked out, feeling the hands of fate closing around my neck.
“Sorry, kitten.” She gave a casual shrug, like she wasn’t just sealing my doom. “Can’t have the rebels thinking they can attack my realm and get away with it. Sets a bad precedent.”
All the blood rushed from my head.
I didn’t bother calling Ignios’s name. One look at him, and he roared with spiteful laughter. “Enjoy prison, Lumnos. I’ll sit front row at your execution.”
“I saved your life,” I hissed at him. “My Prince was about to kill you on that beach, and I called him off. I gave you mercy.”
He grinned. “Let that be a lesson. Always take the kill when you get the chance.”
No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
There was no one left to vote in my favor. Like an utter fool, I’d bound myself to either kill Ophiucae or lose my magic—and now I’d have to do it with the Crowns and the army coming for my head.
“I’m sorry, Lumnos,” Doriel said, looking not sorry in the least.
I shook my head frantically. “Don’t you all see what you’re doing? You need my help. My mother’s, too. The Guardians will never let you back on this island.” I stared at each of them with pleading eyes. “The Forging spell is going to break down—all your borders are going to disappear.”
Doriel cocked their head. “Yes, well, about that. You see, I have a different—”
“The vote isn’t over yet, Sophos.”
The voice was as warm as the Ignios sands, but the sound of it sent ice through my veins.
Yrselle sauntered into the Umbros arch. “Hello, Diem. Happy to see me?”
I gripped the dark stone of my portal to keep upright. Her timing was curious, but her appearance was the true shock. She looked every inch the majestic, dangerous Queen she was in a shimmering silk jacquard gown, its voluminous skirts cascading in every direction, edged in black velvet that set off her dark eyes. An exaggerated tulle collar billowed around her head like a puff of smoke caught in perfect stillness, and a cape trimmed with diamonds as big as my thumbnail splayed behind her in a regal train. Tiny, glittering gemstones studded her bronzed decolletage and disappeared down the canyon of her plunging neckline.
“This is new,” Ignios jeered. “Usually you’re barely wearing any clothes at all.”
The chunky baubles dangling from her ears clinked as she shrugged. “I came dressed for a coronation. Several , in fact.” Her depthless gaze sat heavy on mine, then ticked above my head. “I see you’ve picked up a third since I saw you last.”
Doriel stilled, glancing warily between us, while the others looked on in confusion.
“I heard what happened in your realm,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, Yrselle. If I had known...”
“Then what?” One slender eyebrow arched. “Would you have stayed? Traded one last day with your lover for the lives of my Centenaries?”
My throat worked. I wouldn’t do her the disrespect of lying, but I didn’t know the truth.
“I warned you that if you left, my people would die,” she hissed. “I should kill you for that alone.”
“How did you know an attack was coming?” Ignios asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.
“I know more than you could possibly imagine, Ignios.” She looked him over with an unimpressed frown. “Though you do set the bar dreadfully low.”
Faunos flicked a hand dismissively. “Yes, Umbros, you and your spies know all and see all. We’ve heard this routine before. If you know what we’re voting on, then give yours already.”
“Her vote doesn’t matter,” Ignios argued. “Lumnos only has three votes. Without Fortos and Montios, she can’t get to six.”
“Diem has five votes,” Yrselle said. “Or have you imbeciles still not looked at her Crown?”
Six pairs of eyes crept to me—or rather, to my glowing three-peaked circlet of vines, veins, and ice.
The usual cries of this-can’t-be and how-did-this-happen rained down on me from the Ignios, Arboros, and Faunos arches to my right. Across the Temple, Meros gave a loaded glance to Doriel that raised the hairs on my nape.
“If you have questions, take them up with the Kindred,” I said flatly. “I don’t have answers. And I’m about as pleased with it as all of you are.”
“If you have their Crowns... do you also have their magic?” Arboros asked.
“Theirs—and yours, as well,” I confessed. “Ignios fire, Meros wind, Sophos spark.” My gaze cut to Yrselle. “Umbros thought.”
She nodded calmly, looking as if she’d known it all along. Looking as if she was confirming it to me , rather than the other way around.
The Temple fell brutally silent.
Crowns were fiercely possessive by nature. I’d felt it myself—when I’d seen the Lumnos light speckling the market hall in Umbros, some part of me had been hissing “ mine .” I’d felt the same way toward the blue-eyed staff in Zalaric’s inn. Though they were technically Yrselle’s subjects, their Lumnos magic had sparked a primal drive in me to claim them, to both protect them and make them kneel.
It seemed the Crowns were battling the same urges now. But I was the one and only bearer of their magic they could never force to kneel, neither by law nor by might.
And that made me a threat.
The sun was halfway to bed, its last rays gilding the tall island brush. Night was quickly arriving, and with it, changing winds. A frosty breeze kicked up the hair on my shoulders and sent it whipping like a warning shot across my face.
“Cast your vote, Umbros,” Doriel said darkly.
“Please, Yrselle,” I said. “You asked me how far I’m willing to go... I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I’m ready to do what must be done.”
“You don’t deserve my vote.” She spat the words, and the last of my hope crumbled. “You deserve to suffer as my people suffered. And believe me, you will.” Her pitch-black eyes seemed to grow even darker. “It’s not just my Centenaries they massacred, you know. They killed every Descended they could find. Tell my dear Zalaric his inn is in need of a new staff.”
I flinched as an awful, poisonous guilt coated my insides. All those half-mortals Luther had saved...
“You have no idea the chain of fate you’ve set in motion.” She smiled, but there was only anger and sadness in its curves. “Every life he takes now is on your hands. No wound I inflict will bleed you worse than that.”
My eyes squeezed shut. My cowardly heart was desperate to run from the truth of her words.
Doriel pulled the ritual dagger from their coat. “Since Umbros has voted no, Diem and her mother are hereby charged as enemies of the Crowns. We’ll complete the coronation ritual to restore the Forging spell, then Diem will be arrested and imprisoned.”
My focus snapped to them. “What? That’s not what we agreed.”
“What we agreed is that I would give you my vote and speak in your favor. I fulfilled my side of our bargain. If you can’t fulfill yours...” They trailed off, and I realized with horror just how badly I’d been duped. If the Crowns imprisoned me and killed Ophiucae before I could, the bargain would become impossible for me to fulfill, and my magic would be gone.
Both threats neutralized—permanently.
My pulse surged with mounting panic. “You can’t hold me. Only Fortos has prison cells strong enough to contain a Crown, and I’m its Queen.”
Doriel’s lips pursed. “There are other cells we can use.” Their eyes swept across the island—to a heavy godstone door laying wide open in the brush.
I stumbled backward, fighting for air. “You... you’re going to do to me what they did to him .”
“My guards told me you let his people go. You may not have planned the attack, but you clearly have sympathies for his cause. I cannot risk you killing him only to step right into his shoes.” They had the gall to look mildly rueful. “I’m sorry, Diem. I have to protect my people.”
Doriel stuck their fingers in their mouth and let out a loud whistle. Seconds later, a bright red flare shot into the pre-dusk sky. Clumps of soldiers appeared on the horizon near every port.
“We’ve been betrayed,” a Guardian shouted from outside the Temple.
“Kill the Crowns,” another yelled. “If we go down, they go down with us.”
They raised their weapons, but just as they ran for the dais, two gryverns dove from the clouds with matching shrieks. The smaller, slower one I recognized as Vexes, the Sophos gryvern. The second I’d never seen, but from the blue-green glow building in its jaws—and the grim look on Meros’s face—I could guess where it belonged.
The creatures banked into a loop over our heads and unleashed plumes of pink and turquoise dragonfyre at every mortal who came near.
Fear and fury rose in equal measures. On the island, our bonds with our gryverns went dark alongside our magic, meaning Doriel had to have coordinated this long before we left the Sophos shores.
Allowing Luther and I to stay in the library hadn’t been a token of appreciation—it had been a distraction to keep us out of the way.
“What have you done?” I screamed at Doriel. “My mother swore to the Guardians that they’d be safe. They’ll never trust her now. You’re going to run the rebels right into his arms.”
“We can handle them. Now we know where his camp is, and after the successful battle in my realm, we know how to defeat him.”
“You didn’t defeat him, you idiot, he left because of me. I told him your people were under my protection. If I hadn’t, he would have wiped your realm from the gods-damned continent.”
Doriel’s face went a shade paler, but they raised their chin, stubbornly burying themselves in the quicksand of their choice.
I whipped around to the others. “Don’t you see this is a coup? You’re happy to let Sophos single-handedly take control of the army?”
Their apprehensive looks said they very much were not , but at least for now, none was willing to speak up on my behalf.
“An enemy of the Crowns is unfit to rule,” Doriel interjected. “The Fortos Regent has stepped in to lead the Emarion Army.”
“How convenient that they’re answering only to you,” I shot back.
The sudden sound of laughter sliced through the tension, and my furious gaze flicked to its owner. Yrselle was watching with blatant amusement, no doubt savoring my demise.
“Clever, as always, Sophos,” she said between husky chuckles. “You thought of everything. Shame you showed your hand a bit too early.” Her smile spread wide. “I have not yet cast my vote.”
“But you said—”
“I said she doesn’t deserve my vote.” Her gaze cut to me. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t give it to her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ignios muttered. “You would pardon her after what was done to your realm?”
A storm settled over her features as she ignored him to stare me down. “There is much I could have told you, Daughter of the Forgotten. About your father and your magic. Your fate. About Omnos.”
Doriel’s head snapped toward her.
“The future is so much darker now,” she said. “If there is even still a future at all. Where victory was once certain...” She sighed and shook her head. “I share the blame for not telling you sooner. Blessed Father Umbros warned me that our fate hung in the balance of your choice. He urged me to trust you, Instead, I tried to force your hand. That decision cost me much. This decision will cost me everything .”
“Get to the point,” Faunos groaned. “Are you voting with her or not?”
Still, Yrselle’s shadowy eyes did not leave mine. “Take the rosebane. Use my key. Heed my warnings—especially about my heir. And don’t forget what you pledged to sacrifice to see your plans through.”
She twirled her fingers—a seemingly idle gesture, were it not for the glint of glittering black inlaid beneath the sharpened points of her nails.
“I am giving you the thing I value most, Diem Bellator. Use it wisely.” She smiled coldly and held her arms out to her sides, her voice rising. “My answer is yes. I cast my vote in Diem’s fav—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish before a godstone blade plunged into the hollow of her throat.
Her blood splattered across the crisp white linen robes of the dagger’s bearer.
“Ignios!” Arboros screamed. “What have you done?”
Yrselle stumbled, clutching her throat and choking as red liquid dribbled from her parted lips. She swung her hand forward and just barely missed Ignios as he darted back.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for years ,” he said. He pulled his blade free of her neck and stabbed her again—and again, and again.
“Blessed Kindred,” Doriel breathed. “Ignios, this space is sacred! ”
Meros ripped off his tunic and revealed a hidden baldric of weapons strapped to his chest. He grabbed the longest blade and thrust its point forward. “Come anywhere near us with that thing, Ignios, and I’ll paint the heartstone with your innards.”
“Obaneryn,” Doriel hissed. “You know weapons aren’t allowed here.”
Ignios fisted the fabric of Yrselle’s dress to hold her upright as her body began to slump. “No need for that, Meros. I only needed to eliminate one vote, so I chose the one that’s pissed me off the most. Although...” His eyes turned to me with a violent gleam.
Despite my thundering heart and shaking hands, I reached in my boot and pulled the dagger I’d hidden there. “Try me,” I barked. “I dare you.”
“Of course you brought one,” Doriel huffed.
Faunos and Arboros reached beneath their skirts and drew their own blades from straps tucked high on their thighs.
Doriel threw up their arms. “Do none of you obey the rules?”
A quiet gurgle drew me back to Yrselle. Her hand was wrapped around the Ignios King’s wrist. Her nails sank into his flesh, and her bright, bloody smile stretched from ear to ear.
He grunted and reared back for another blow. With one last thrust of his godstone knife into her heart, Yrselle’s eyes fluttered, and she was gone.
The ground began to tremble.
The fire atop the Umbros obelisk hissed and faded with a wisp of smoke. The light illuminating the etched sigil of its realm—a skull with a chain around its throat—guttered into darkness.
Far away, a gryvern wailed in mourning.
A sharp pain pressed between my temples. The air felt hot. Too hot. Too heavy. Like it was crushing me in from the top of my head.
“No,” I whimpered. “Please— no .”
The blade clattered from my hand as my knees crashed to the floor. I gripped my head and screamed.
Two beams of dark light shot through the sky.
One from the heartstone.
And one from me—the new Queen of Umbros.