Chapter 7 #3
Confusion flashed across his face—then indignation. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this situation has become? I’ve gone to great lengths to protect you both.”
I seized the hilt and withdrew it an inch. “One more lie, and even the cease-fire won’t save you.”
“Luther,” Auralie called out. She shook her head. “He’s cost you enough.”
I slammed the sword back into its scabbard, the clang of metal reverberating down the hall.
I clasped Taran’s wrist and lowered my voice. “Take Teller and Lily to the royal suite. If something goes wrong, put them on Sorae. She’ll get them somewhere safe.”
He squeezed my arm and nodded. “What about Perthe—is he back, as well?”
I swallowed, guilt choking my response. Taran looked at Teller, who was equally mute. He and I had never discussed what happened to Perthe on the island. We both had his blood on our hands, and we both knew that nothing would ever remove it.
I gave a silent shake of my head. Taran’s eyes darkened in understanding. “I’ll protect them,” he vowed.
The mention of Perthe had taken the fight out of Teller. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and trudged toward the foyer.
Lily tugged at her curls, looking as if she was struggling not to watch him. “Talk to him,” I whispered in her ear.
I would push her no more than that. That journey was their own, and Lily deserved to be fought for. Eleanor slid a supportive arm around her and started to lead her away.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked Eleanor. “You’re the Regent of Lumnos.”
Her eyes jumped between me and my father. “Um, I . . .”
“I am the Regent of Lumnos,” he said. “Until Her Majesty returns and confirms her appoint—”
“Well?” I said loudly, ignoring him. I held out my elbow to Eleanor.
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, and she slowly let go of Lily, taking my arm. I escorted her past my father, who scowled and stalked behind us. “Be brave, cousin,” I murmured to Eleanor. “Your Queen needs you now more than ever.”
She stood straighter and rolled her shoulders back. “I will,” she promised.
When we approached the meeting room, a foul smell was waiting to greet us. It reeked of ruin and rot, and it felt unsettlingly familiar.
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”
Inside, the stench was joined by cloying perfumes and clouds of incense. Tables along the walls were laden with every sweet-smelling flower in the realm, and still the air was so putrid, I could hardly draw a breath.
The Crowns had already taken their seats in elaborate thrones crafted of Lumnos cedar, each carved with the sigil of their respective realms. The Fortos, Lumnos, and Montios thrones were empty. So was the throne of Umbros.
The Ignios throne was not. Its King slumped against it, back to the door, hidden from my sight.
In simpler chairs placed near each one, I recognized several other Regents and High Generals. I led Eleanor to one such seat, strategically placed between the thrones of Lumnos and Montios.
“Who is she?” the Fortos Vice General demanded.
“The Regent of this realm,” I answered calmly.
“So she claims,” my father rushed out. “Until Her Majesty confirms it, the position remains with me.”
Faunos rolled her eyes. “He’s the only Regent we recognize, Prince.”
“She is the only one we recognize,” Auralie said. “So it seems we’re at an impasse.”
I shot her a grateful nod as the Crowns crowded around the Ignios throne, trading frowns and whispers. “We cannot seat two Regents of Lumnos,” I heard one of them mumble.
“Then let Eleanor sit as the Regent of Montios,” I called out. “Or Fortos.” I smiled coldly. “Or Umbros.”
I took careful note of the reactions that followed. The Crowns looked uneasy—but unsurprised. The Fortos Vice General’s sneer also showed no sign of shock.
My father, however . . . he, Alixe, and Eleanor wore mirrored looks of stupor.
It seemed the Crowns had been keeping more secrets.
Without awaiting their response, I left Eleanor and walked to the seat on Auralie’s left.
I gave deep bows to her, then to Cordellia, and awaited their acknowledgment before taking my seat.
Such theater of formality was comical for the Guardians, but to the Crowns, it was a message in a language they would understand.
Finally, my attention turned to the burnt orange gaze of the Ignios King.
What I saw wasn’t the fiery tyrant I’d battled on the beach—what I saw was barely human.
He seemed to have shrunk half in size, his limbs propped limply on large cushions, stick-thin where his muscles had been eaten away beneath sagging, papery skin. Blackened skin.
Nearly every inch of him was covered in thick tangles of dark, pulsating swirls. Only a few patches of flesh peeked through, but even those had gone greyish and ashy. The onyx veins had even crept into his eyes, turning the whites to a murky yellow-black.
It took me a moment to understand. Another moment to acknowledge where the foul smell had come from, and why it had set my memory writhing.
Godstone.
The Ignios King was not dead—but very soon, he would be.
I had not laughed often in my life. In my entire adulthood, I could count the number of times I had lost myself to uncontrollable laughter on one hand, with fingers to spare.
Today, I laughed.
Loudly.
Joyously.
“You’ll burn for this,” Ignios hissed. No, croaked. His voice was as tainted as his body, reduced to a crackly rasp.
Tears formed in the crinkled corners of my eyes as my laughter grew.
“Prince,” Arboros scolded. “Godstone poisoning is a grave matter.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware.” I grinned at him with hateful glee. “How did it happen? Was it one of the mortals? Ah, what justice that would be.”
“Luther,” my father said sternly. “That’s enough.”
“This is the type of monster we sit across from?” Ignios shouted—wheezed—at the other Crowns. “Those who take pleasure in our dying?”
Auralie lounged in her chair, saying nothing.
Faunos cocked her head at Sophos. “You told us you had a cure.”
Doriel squirmed in their seat. “I thought we had, but it didn’t work. It seems more research is needed.”
“Who was it?” I asked Ignios again. “Please tell me it was my Diem.”
The eerie curl of his smile was cold water on my joy. “If you really want to know . . .”
“This is not what we came to discuss,” Doriel jumped in. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”
“Agreed,” Arboros said.
“Agreed,” Meros grunted.
Ignios shrugged—twitched—and continued to flash his disconcerting smirk.
“Agreed,” Auralie conceded. “Now . . . let’s begin with our demands.”