Chapter 7 #2
If the number of guards hadn’t alerted me to the Crowns, the auras would have.
The presence of magic was thick enough to choke on and laced with bitter, malicious energy.
The few times I’d been in the presence of several strong Descended in the past, I’d been able to feel the blurry edges where one aura ended and another began, but this was unlike anything I’d ever encountered.
The air itself seemed to quiver with a single, impossibly powerful force.
I put a hand on Teller’s shoulder and held him back so Auralie could lead us inside the palace, followed by Cordellia. “If the Crowns sense a rift, they’ll pounce,” I said in his ear. “Don’t give them a reason to be in your life any more than they already are.”
He grumbled, but he steeled his face and obeyed.
A welcoming party of the most miserable sort was waiting to greet us: Doriel, Crown of Sophos, whose betrayal had cost Diem her freedom and Perthe his life.
Mireille, Queen of Arboros, whose cowardice made it all possible.
Ailani, Queen of Faunos, who looked like she wanted to be there even less than I did.
Obaneryn, King of Meros, whose affable, charming smile I wanted to scorch right off his face.
And my father, Remis Corbois, whose crimes were so numerous I hardly knew where to start.
I ignored them all. I looked only at their hands, searching for twitching fingers, rolling wrists, or any other sign of conjured magic.
“You must be Auralie Bellator,” Doriel said smoothly, stepping forward and extending a hand.
Their soft, androgynous features, slender build, and elegant cream-and-salmon suit gave them an innocuous air, though the ominous light cast by the circle of crackling sparks above their shaven head felt better suited to the devil I knew them to be.
Auralie glanced at Doriel’s hand, then back up, saying nothing.
Doriel held their stance—a foolish error, trying to wait out a Bellator. Auralie would age and rot to dust where she stood before she’d back down to a Crown.
“I trust your journey was pleasant?” Doriel asked. “No issues?”
“None at all,” she answered. “The ships we liberated from Meros got us here in no time.”
The Meros King’s smile disappeared. The Faunos and Arboros Queens shared a look.
By now, I’d learned many of Auralie’s methods. This was not the flippant antagonizing it appeared to be. This was a calculated test of the cease-fire, a heavy stomp on its center to see how much weight it could hold.
Obaneryn stepped forward. “Those ships belong to me.”
Auralie advanced as well, unbothered. “They were built by mortal hands. Paid for by mortal taxes. Manned by mortal crews.” She smiled. “Now they serve mortal captains.”
“I treat mortals fairly in my realm,” he argued. “They live and work as equals.”
Cordellia snorted.
“Is that so?” Auralie asked. “Then you must have an equal number of mortals as your advisors.”
His mouth clicked shut.
“Equal number of mortal captains in your fleet?”
“Mortals cannot be captains. They do not control the winds and tides as my people do.”
“Are the mortals not ‘your people’?” I cut in.
He shot me a look that seemed to ask the question burning on every Descended tongue in Lumnos: You’re one of us. Why are you acting like one of them?
But it was the Sophos Crown’s reaction that caught my focus. Color had drained from Doriel’s alabaster skin, their rose eyes wide and round. They seemed to have just now taken note of my presence.
The last time we’d seen each other, Doriel had slammed the Sophos border back down on my godhood as they sped away on a boat with Diem, leaving me on the shore without my magic.
When Teller and Perthe showed up soon after, bound and gagged by a group of soldiers, I realized Doriel had betrayed us.
Perthe was able to fight his way free, but we were too outnumbered to keep them from taking Teller.
The best we could do was steal a boat and make our pursuit—a rescue attempt that went horribly wrong.
Doriel’s eyes slipped over my shoulder to Teller, the boy they’d left on the island to die, and grew even larger.
The Arboros Queen cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should move to the meeting room?”
“A wise idea,” Auralie answered. She glanced at the Faunos Queen. “Ailani, why don’t you lead the way?”
Another test. Of all the Crowns, the most likely to break the cease-fire were the ruthless Faunos and Ignios Crowns, the latter of whom was curiously missing.
Ailani’s yellow eyes shrunk to slits. “How dare you use my name?” Her sharpened, claw-like nails curled at her side. “I’m ‘Her Majesty’ to you.”
Auralie shrugged. “Then I’m ‘Her Majesty’ to you. My people ruled this land before yours arrived.”
“And then my people conquered yours. The strongest deserve to rule. That’s nature’s way.”
“Then I should swear my loyalty to Ophiucae. He’s the strongest among you, is he not?”
The foyer fell deadly silent.
“We can use the names of our realms, as we do on the island,” the Arboros Queen offered, her eyes bouncing nervously around the Crowns. “Will that suffice?”
Sophos nodded quickly, still looking pale, joined by a fuming Meros. Faunos gave an irritated shrug.
Arboros turned her hopeful gaze to Auralie, who stood in statuesque silence long enough that I wondered if she might push the Crowns too far, but she eventually nodded.
“Leave your blades,” the Fortos Vice General barked. He eyed the sword strapped to my back. “No weapons in the meeting room.”
“Will the Crowns be taking flameroot, then?” Auralie asked.
Again, the group went quiet. “You know about the flameroot?” Meros asked.
“I know even more about it than you.” She pointed a thumb at the door. “Shall I fetch some from my camp’s supply? We’ve got plenty to spare.”
Faces blanched around the room. Knowledge of flameroot was highly guarded, even among Descended. I only learned of its existence while handling my late uncle’s letters after he fell ill. For the Crowns to discover that the rebels not only knew of it, but had their own stockpile . . .
Doriel let out a nervous noise that sounded half like a laugh, half like a whimper. “Let them keep their weapons. A sign of mutual trust.” They gave another pained smile and motioned for everyone to follow.
The mortals and I held still, forcing the Crowns to lead and give us their backs.
My father hovered nearby and watched. On the surface, he was composed, confident, the faultless diplomat—but even his staunch self-control couldn’t hide the circles beneath his eyes, nor the agitated flexing of his jaw.
Auralie and Cordellia breezed past him without acknowledgment. When I moved to do the same, he reached for my arm.
“Luther!”
A voice—light, feminine, and not my father’s—trilled through the hall. I turned to see a blur of saffron skirts and short, glossy curls fly across the foyer and collide with my chest.
“Lilian,” my father whispered sharply. “I told you to stay away.”
“Why didn’t you write?” Lily asked me between sniffles. “I was so worried.”
A heavy weight eased from my heart as I looped my arms around my sister and squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t be certain who might read it before it reached you.”
My father scoffed.
Lily gazed up at me. “You have a beard.”
I tugged at a curl bouncing just above her shoulder. “You cut your hair.”
She grinned. “I did it myself! Well, Eleanor helped. She thought I might need a change after . . .” Her smile wobbled. “After everything.”
“Lumnos’s twat, it’s really him.”
I barely nudged Lily to safety before Taran crushed me in his grip. “Cousin,” I grunted.
Though it sounded gruff, that had always been our way. Taran needed my steadiness to calm his troubled spirit; I needed his heart to keep warmth in mine.
“You gods-damned asshole,” he shouted, thumping me in the chest. “Where in the nine realms have you been?”
“You’re back!” Eleanor exclaimed, jogging forward. She burrowed under Taran’s arm to wrap me in a hug I was glad to return.
Over her shoulder, Zalaric stood a short distance away. Despite his typical reserve, he offered a smile, and I returned it.
I’d always been a private person, keeping distance as a rule, so it surprised me how much comfort it gave me to see them all again. If only the woman responsible for opening my heart was here to fill it, too.
“It’s such a relief to have you home,” Eleanor gushed. “Things here have been, um . . . difficult.”
“Fucking miserable,” Taran mumbled.
“Of course we all knew you and Diem must have had your reasons for staying away,” Eleanor insisted. She frowned and looked around. “Where is Her Maj—oh, Teller, you’re back from Sophos!”
Lily stiffened. She and Teller connected eyes, and the rest of us awkwardly watched.
“Hi, Lily,” Teller said quietly.
Her fingers brushed her lips as if he’d kissed her rather than offered a simple hello.
His gaze dropped, then rose again. “You look lovely. Your hair . . . it’s nice. It suits you.”
Her bottom lip gave the smallest tremble before she locked it away. “Hello,” she clipped, then turned her focus back to me. “Where is Diem? Is she with the other Crowns?”
Find her, my godhood snarled. FIND HER.
Its insistent flare pulsed out unbidden, and the others flinched as they felt the echoes of its wrath.
“She isn’t here,” I gritted out.
“Why not?” my father cut in.
If my glare could slice, he would lay in slivers. With heavy, menacing steps, I strode to him until we stood nose to nose.
My entire life, he’d towered over me—in authority, if not in stature.
He had punished me, threatened me, manipulated me.
When my influence with the King outgrew his, he expanded his arsenal, dangling the people I cared for in harm’s way to keep me under his thumb.
He’d been the unscalable wall I could never escape.
Funny, how he seemed so small now.
“You dare ask me that?” I growled. I tapped the jeweled handle that rose over my shoulder. “You’re lucky the terms of the meeting prevent me from using this.”