Chapter 7
LUTHER
I’d walked the road to the palace a thousand times, always with the small comfort of returning to the familiar. I hadn’t felt safe there in a very long time—not since I watched my father slay my mortal mother in the bedroom I’d hidden her away in—but at least it had always been home.
Today, it felt neither safe nor familiar. My home was miles away, trapped on an island in the middle of the sea.
I kept a step behind Auralie, lined up shoulder to shoulder with Cordellia and the other rebel leaders who had joined us from Montios, Meros, and Fortos.
Though the Guardians had balked at my apparent promotion, Auralie had decided that my presence would make the Crowns think twice before attempting any kind of trick.
To emphasize that point, I let a ripple of light magic sparkle in a ring around our contingent, an outward sign to all who watched that these people were mine to protect.
And there were many, many watching.
The residents of Lumnos City had gathered along the roads to gawk at our dramatic arrival. A sparse contingent of guards had been posted, though I wasn’t sure which side of their line they were meant to be protecting.
The crowd was unusually quiet. Their twisted scowls and narrowed eyes spoke their displeasure, and it was directed primarily at me. No longer was I the perfect son of Lumnos, the unimpeachable Prince.
I kept my expression stony as ever, though inside I cringed at how my presence among the Guardians inadvertently bolstered the Crowns’ lies about Diem. I wondered if I’d made a mistake by not returning sooner.
Unlike at the docks, the military presence at the palace was significant. Soldiers lined the ivy-coated wall that surrounded the grounds with a second perimeter at the palace itself. Archers crouched on the roof and behind balustrades on every balcony. Including, to my irritation, Diem’s rooms.
Sorae wasn’t happy with it, either. She let out a piercing shriek as she swooped across the front facade.
“I suggest you tell your guards to leave the royal suite,” I yelled to Alixe, who rode ahead of us on horseback, “or their day is going to become a good deal hotter.”
“They’re Emarion Army soldiers,” she called back. “They are not mine to command.”
“You’re the High General of the Fortos Queen, are you not?”
She brought her horse to a sudden stop, then turned around to face me. “The rumors are true? Diem wears the Fortos Crown?”
Murmurs rippled through the soldiers. “Fortos does not have Queens,” a red-eyed man said, emerging from the throng. “Diem Corbois is an imposter.”
“Diem Bellator,” Auralie and I said in unison. We exchanged a look.
“Whatever her name is, we don’t recognize her Crown.” He sneered. “She’ll answer to the Kindred for her thievery. Until then, as Vice General, I’m the ranking officer of Fortos.”
Sorae unleashed a plume of sapphire flame across the palace. Shouts rose from the royal terrace, and two charred bodies tumbled over the railing and thumped to the ground.
“Well then, Vice General,” I said dryly, “my condolences on your loss.”
His face turned as scarlet as his eyes. “You broke the cease-fire!”
“We did no such thing,” Auralie cut in. “You may not recognize my daughter as Queen, but that creature does. We can no more call off its attacks than you can.”
“And it seems she does not like soldiers in her Queen’s chambers,” I added.
The Vice General looked at Alixe, who wisely did nothing more than arch a brow.
He muttered something to another soldier, who took off running inside.
Moments later, the remaining archers withdrew from the royal terrace.
Sorae set down on her perch hard enough to send an avalanche of pebbles raining down the palace walls.
Cordellia edged toward me, looking around with uneasy eyes. “If the Crowns are here, shouldn’t their gryverns be, too?”
“Likely hiding nearby,” I said quietly. “The Crowns don’t like the gryverns to interact.”
I thought of what Diem had told me about Tybold, the Ignios gryvern, being Sorae’s long-lost love. Diem had made her a promise on our behalf to find a way to reunite them. If my theory about Diem taking a fifth Crown was correct, all it would take was a dead Ignios King.
And as it so happened, he and I had unfinished business.
I glanced up at Sorae, who stared off into the trees. Don’t worry, girl, I thought grimly. I’ll keep our promise.
Her eyes swung back to me, her head tilting slightly.
“The meeting will begin at midday,” Alixe said. She gestured inside. “If you’d like a chance to freshen up—”
“No need,” Auralie said. “We’ll prepare our camp.” She pointed to a field north of the palace. “I understand there’s empty land this way, with a nearby stream?”
Alixe shot me a hard stare. The field in question was fortified with a magical barrier that even dragonfyre couldn’t pierce. It was a tool for training the Royal Guard—and a nightmare for housing royal enemies.
It was also a highly guarded secret. The only way Auralie could have known it existed was from me.
The problem was . . . I’d never told her.
I returned Alixe’s glare, giving no sign that I was as surprised by this as she was. A vein twitched along her temple. “Very well.”
“We’ll also be setting up our own patrols, both inside and outside the palace gates,” Auralie said. “Do I have your word they’ll be undisturbed?”
Alixe tensed. “That’s quite unnecessary. Under the terms of the cease-fire—”
“I know the terms. I also know the Crowns.” Auralie smirked. “We’ll keep our own patrols.”
For the next few hours, the Guardians set up camp in their efficient, systematic way.
We had no way of knowing how long negotiations might last, but the Crowns would not want to be separated from their realms for long, especially at wartime.
The more settled in we appeared, the stronger a message it sent: We can afford to wait. Can you?
When the tents were up, the campfires were lit, and the first Guardian patrols had made their rounds, Alixe returned to escort us inside.
Two cell leaders stayed behind at camp, and another stayed with the ships to keep them ready in case we needed to flee, so only Auralie, Cordellia, and myself set off to attend.
Teller came running behind us. “I want to hear what the Crowns have to say about Diem.”
“This meeting is for Guardians,” Auralie said. “You’ve made very clear you want no part of the rebellion.”
“Luther’s going,” he fired back. “He’s not a Guardian.”
“Yes, I am.”
I was as surprised as anyone to hear my admission.
I’d been working alongside them for weeks, but always separate, always an other.
And yet, I’d been fighting in secret for years—working against the Crowns, undermining their laws, intervening to save mortal and half-mortal lives.
What did that make me, if not a rebel myself?
“Auralie,” Cordellia warned her, “if you walk in there as Diem’s mother, with her brother and her”—she waved a hand at me—“whatever he is, it will send the message that we’ve only come for her.”
“Is that so bad?” Auralie asked. “Imagine what they might offer us to leave her where she is.”
She said it so plainly, I started to think she might be willing to sacrifice Diem after all. And so did Teller—the ire in his glare was scorching.
Cordellia looked less convinced. Her tone turned sharp. “You swore this wasn’t about her.”
Auralie met Cordellia’s simmering stare without speaking. A moment later, she sighed and turned to Teller. “I’m sorry, my little scholar. You can’t.”
“I’m not a scholar,” he sniped. “Not anymore. I’m not little, either. And I’m not yours.” Auralie flinched as he barreled on. “That palace is the only home I have left. Keep me out of the meeting if you want, but I’m not staying in your camp one minute longer.”
He marched for the palace, flying past a bewildered Alixe. I set off in his wake as the two mortal women followed behind.
Alixe joined my side. “Is Teller alright? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice before.”
“He’s fine.”
Her mouth pinched at my curtness. “Lily will be happy to see you. Your father tried to persuade her into a betrothal to Lorris Benette. I think it was Remis’s attempt at a compromise—a few more years to do as she pleases until the boy comes of age.
You’ll be happy to know she refused. She says she will not marry without Her Majesty’s consent. ”
A surge of pride raced through me. My sister had never denied our father before. She had taken the wrong lessons from my example, determined to serve our family in whatever way she could—a selflessness Father had been happy to exploit.
But Lily was also keenly perceptive. If she conditioned my father’s request on Diem’s approval, she must have suspected that my father had the power to bring Diem home.
“The half-mortal children?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Safe,” she answered. “Your father kept his word to halt all executions.”
“Mortal City?”
“A few skirmishes. Nothing serious.”
“Zalaric?”
“Doing well. Taran convinced him to lay low until you and Diem returned.” She smirked. “Taran put Zalaric’s bed in his suite so he can keep watch. Zal complains about it daily, but when I offered him his own room, he declined.”
I almost smiled. In the midst of all this misery, there was at least one shining, beautiful thing. My closest friend had given his heart away, and at last he’d received one in return.
“Is Diem safe?” Alixe asked quietly.
My warmth chilled to frost. “She is not.”
My godhood’s chanting picked up volume—Find her. Free her. Save her. Touch her.—and magic twined in restless tendrils at my palms.
Alixe tensed and put a few steps of distance between us. We said nothing more until we reached the palace.