Chapter 61 Love Was Here
Love Was Here
Desdemona
I
’m hauled through the castle of Ilyria for what must be my punishment. But I don’t fight back for one reason only.
The guards said King Lucian requested me.
I have to see it for myself, and as they pull me down the halls—not toward the dungeon—I believe I will.
We round the bends and walk up the steps. Steps I’ve only seen in reverse—when I was running from the same place I’m walking to.
We enter a large room, people scattered throughout, staring ahead. I follow their gaze to Lucian, who stands with arching windows overlooking the Great Sea behind him and two looming thrones beside him. A crown rests on his head.
Do I laugh or bow? Both feel wrong.
“Desdemona,” Lucian says, his words reverberating through the high ceilings.
He tips his head down, showing me respect that isn’t due.
I wait for an answer—to know why he summoned me, why he suddenly wears a crown—but Lucian looks away.
His gaze returns to the rest of the room and never comes back to me.
“Nineteen years ago, I was born to Leiana and Labyrinth,” he announces. “But not the Leiana and Labyrinth you knew. The queen you called Leiana was actually a woman named Ramona, and Labyrinth is Silas Aibek. Two people I thought were killed eighteen and eleven years ago.”
“I’m sure some of the older nobles in this room had memories returned. That some of you now recall that I was born and raised in this castle, though not by the queen and king you know—but by the queen and king they impersonated.” He points to King Labyrinth.
Not king anymore, and, I guess, not Labyrinth. How has Lucian learned all this in the last few hours?
“Silas,” Lucian says, “whom you know as Labyrinth, was actually Labyrinth’s younger brother and next in line to the throne. He played a role in the murder of my birth parents, the true sovereign bloodline.
“Before you all today, the most powerful Lyrians in the world, and the most powerful Phoenician standing,” Lucian says, dropping to one knee as his hand rises toward me. The guards tighten their grip on my bicep, as if they think I’m here to be punished. Their eyes remain on Lucian.
But this isn’t punishment.
Lucian couldn’t… could he?
His gaze finally meets mine. His eyes are wide, eyebrows scrunched together, like he’s hopeful and scared at once.
He is.
His hand stretches out further, like it’s trying to reach me as he says, “I ask Desdemona Althenia to be my queen.”
Something rises in my throat, and I swallow it hard.
My head shakes once—useless. The guards guide me closer to Lucian, the center of the room opening for me. A handful of men and women in elaborate gowns and suits stand on either side, all their eyes on me.
When I reach the front of the room, standing before the platform leading to the imposing thrones, the guards let me go. The steps feel wrong before I even touch them.
When I’m beside Lucian, he rises, his lips finding my ear as he whispers, “I’ll explain it all, but I need you here, with me, for what is to come.”
My forehead tightens. He doesn’t want me for me—of course not; this is a political move, and those are never made out of love. I wonder if most are made out of fear.
Lucian is my only focus as I ask, “What’s coming?”
“Answer me, Des.” Lucian drops to one knee, pleading. “I can’t promise you much, but I can promise this: I’ll be yours, completely, in every way you’ll let me.”
For a moment, I’m stunned. Does he think I’m strong enough to withstand power, or does he want me to give in?
Either way, it’s something I’ve grown to desire.
He’s giving me the chance to be the most powerful person in the universe.
And not a single person in this room tries to disagree with him.
Because, right now, he is the most powerful person in the universe.
If I’m married to him, I don’t think he could kill me—his wife. And if his restraint is not out of duty, then the overabundance of guards for the Queen of Ilyria would keep him from fulfilling his fate.
Maybe this is my best chance at power and survival.
The school uniform I wear looks ridiculous compared to the elaborate gowns and capes the others in this room don. With what I’m about to say, I feel I should be wearing something a bit classier.
“Okay,” I say, voice depleted.
“You’ll do it?” he asks, his voice full of breath.
A single nod answers for me. “I’ll marry you.”
Lucian smiles, but his eyes don’t light up, and his dimples don’t show. It’s the first time he’s smiled at me this way—devoid of meaning.
His gaze leaves mine faster than it found me, turning back to the audience.
His voice is full, echoing through the room.
“I imagine you all have questions, the first of them regarding Folkara and who will take the throne. It’s with my deepest regret and condolences that I announce today, Folkara has fallen. ”
“What do you mean Folkara has fallen?” Calista cries as I process the words.
Chatter consumes the crowd, and Lucian silences it with a raised hand. “Today, the world collapsed.” His voice is tight, but he schools his tone into diplomacy as he continues. “I fear if we do not act soon, the apocalypse is near.”
Chaos erupts.
The room tilts, and my footing slips for half a second before I catch myself. Folkara—that isn’t possible. He’s mistaken. It was just a… it couldn’t have been the whole world.
Folkara was my home. What happened today was just a tremor. My power and the Weapon—we’ve never caused something like this. All the disasters have been small, none deadly except the tremor that took down the academy.
Lucian doesn’t meet my gaze when I need his.
Please, absolve me, I want to cry. Tell me you’re mistaken.
When he finally glances at me, he shakes his head—small, almost imperceptible, but it’s everything I need. Folkara is gone, and I killed them.
My hand presses to my mouth, trapping my breath and holding my face together for the room’s sake, for the people I’ve just vowed to rule.
Lucian turns to me, offering his hand. We walk down the steps, slippery against the leather of my school shoes, with guards joining behind us as we exit and move through the halls.
The moment we step into a room and the door closes, I turn to Lucian. It’s near impossible to speak.
“Say you were lying.”
Lucian shakes his head, looking down. “Des—”
My forearm stings as I shove it into his chest. His back hits the wall with a thud, and a small painting crashes to the floor. Glass shatters at my feet.
“You were lying!” I shout. “For power—for the throne. You have to be.”
He just looks me in the eye. It’s enough for my arm to stiffen, nearly falling. Lucian’s free hand glides up my back and into my hair, holding me tight. I don’t mean to, but I fall into him, my head dropping onto his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Desdemona,” he whispers.
I don’t want him to be sorry. I want him to be wrong. But he isn’t. Of course the Weapon didn’t stop at tremors—of course it would get worse as my power got stronger.
“Everyone’s dead,” I say, voice low.
Except Damien.
Lucian doesn’t reply. How could he? His hand moves through my hair, thumb gliding along my scalp. My tears fall on his suit.
“My mom.” She’s there, but only as an image in my mind when I think of her. She knew what was happening—the world was falling apart because of me—and still she came back. “Did you see?”
Without a word, Lucian nods. If he saw her, then he saw it all. He saw a world fall apart because of me.
Pressing away from him, I make sure I have a clear view of his face and body.
“How did this happen?” I ask. Not because I don’t know, but because I need to know what he does. Have I already failed at hiding my treachery from him?
Lucian breathes, his chest rising quickly. The way his mouth opens and closes without anything to say tells me enough. He doesn’t know. It’s terrible, but I’m relieved.
Against my better judgment, I reach for his hand. Lucian looks at my fingers on his knuckles like they’re rain in a dry spell. Then he gulps, wrapping his hand around mine, stroking it with his thumb. I let him touch me, holding me the way only he can.
“When we were locked up, Leiana brought your dead body to me,” he says.
“She begged me to kill you. It was the first time I saw you after I had my memories back. They felt like dreams, something from afar that I was able to look in on but never grasp. Yet, even dead, when I saw you, I knew you were the most important person to me.”
I nod.
“Your mother felt that, as well,” he whispers. “If she came back to you, she must have.”
I pucker my lips. I know I was the most important person to her—but I’m not sure if it was out of love or fear. That’s the distinction that haunts me.
My silence holds. He keeps staring, long enough for me to find my words, low and tentative. “Why are we getting married, Lucian?”
Lucian nods, as if he knew this was coming. “You might be the only person who can fight what is to come.” He takes a breath. “You’re the only one I could stand having next to me forever.”
Forever—because our lives are interlocked. I’m immortal, and he can’t die until I do. That way, he has all the time in the worlds to kill me.
I smile at him, weak and insincere. “Why do you think I’m the only person who can fight what’s to come?”
“I got back memories on Folkara,” he says. “In them, there was someone named Mial. He’s controlling everything. I remember seeing him with my father, Leiana, and Labyrinth—Ramona and Silas.”
Fighting Mial won’t save anyone, and I almost want to say it. Everything bad I know about him is a stranger’s version of the truth.
“Even if it weren’t for the war that’s to come, you’d be the only one I’d ever choose. I choose you, Desdemona.” Lucian picks up my hand and kisses my knuckles reverently. “I will forever choose you.”
“You sound very noble,” I mutter, deflecting from my fear.
“If that’s what you want me to be,” he says. “Gods, I’ll be anything you want.”
That’s good. I need him close enough that he won’t destroy me, but far enough that he won’t see my fear.
“A part of me will always love you, Lucian,” I say. “I think we both know there’s love between us. But I don’t know how to carry it forward. Too much has happened.”
Lucian’s shoulders fall, his gaze shifting down for a moment. “I know.”
“I’ll marry you. Not because I choose you. But because, after everything, I think you’re the only person I could stand with forever. And for once… I want you to see something good in me.”
“Don’t,” he says. “I’ve seen more than you know—not just your strength or courage, but your kindness, resilience, and resourcefulness.
I’ve seen how you stand by people when you deem them worthy, and ever since then, it’s been my heart’s greatest desire to be one of those people. Whether I knew it or not.”
I shake my head.
“You already said it, so why shouldn’t I say it again?” he whispers, holding my hand tighter. “I’m a taker, Des. I always have been. Yet there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t give to you. There’s not a bone in my body I wouldn’t rip out and stitch into yours if you needed it.”
I swallow. The saliva coats my lips and throat as I whisper, “On a cosmic level… we’re doomed to fail.”
“Then we’ll fail. We’ll fail again and again, and I’ll still be the fool who begs to have you in his arms. I’d tear the stars from the sky for you. Disobey the gods and plague the seas. Fuck, I loved you before I knew you. I even loved you when I was dead.”
I suck on the insides of my cheek. What I’m about to do feels like reaching into my chest and taking out my heart. But I know it needs to be done.
“And I’d do anything you asked me to. As your wife, as your friend, as an old love.” I tip my head down, eyes steady on him. “But that’s all this is. A mutual understanding that love was here, and that it can’t stay.”
At that, Lucian shakes his head.
“More than love, we need respect, Lucian,” I say, trying to guide him in my direction—to protect myself.
Finally, he drops my hand, conceding. “If you ever need me,” he says. “I’ll run to you.”
“I know.” I nod once. “And so will I.”
He shakes his head as he stands, his eyes growing distant as he steps toward the door. But this is the way it has to be.
This is how we survive.
This is how we beat the prophecy.
This is how we win.
My immortal life, along with his.
“Your wedding and coronation will be tomorrow evening. I’ll send a seamstress for the gown?” he offers.
I don’t look him in the eye. “Okay.”
“Until tomorrow?” Lucian asks, his gaze lingering too long on the little things—the emblem on my academy coat, the painting behind me. But no matter how long he looks, his gaze remains distant.
I frown, trying not to let it spread across my entire face.
“Til tomorrow.”