Chapter 18 #3
The others leapt into an animated conversation about everything else we’d missed during our absence.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear House Hanoverre had made no move against Zalaric, though they’d refused to acknowledge him, either.
Their elderly matriarch, Marthe, had ordered all Hanoverres, and Hanoverre allies, to treat him as invisible.
As a result, though he’d made a fair share of connections in secret, his social life had struggled to grow beyond the palace walls, a fact Taran didn’t seem to mind.
The talk turned to gossip of cousins whose names I didn’t remember.
Eleanor burst into laughter at some comment of Lily’s, and as she threw her head back, the light from the palace’s twinkling facade caught on a streak of blue in her tight curls.
She dyed it, I realized. I hadn’t noticed it before in the early evening dusk.
Lily had changed her hair, too, shortening it to her shoulders.
The knowledge coiled around my chest, squeezing my heart to a stop. While I’d been trapped on an island, my friends had been toying with their hairstyles, learning a trade, and falling in love. I’d been in a miserable, endless torture, and they’d been . . . happy.
And though I could never begrudge them their joy, the monstrous loneliness inside me grew a little larger.
Teller and Luther seemed to feel it, too. They watched the merriment like it was happening in a language they barely spoke, forcing smiles when it felt expected to do so, offering only enough of a response to be polite.
I struggled to do the same, but the more they chatted and laughed, the deeper I sank back into the island’s grip. All these weeks, I’d prayed, pleaded, hoped, begged, screamed, wept for the moment I was surrounded again by the people I loved.
My dream had come true, and the only thing I felt was alone.
And yet I was very much not alone. Everywhere I turned, eyes were on me.
The eyes of my friends, my brother, faces peering from palace windows, the Guardians in their distant camp, the fallen Crowns, the Descended soldiers mingling throughout the grounds.
All of them watching me, studying me, wondering where I’d been and what I might do next.
The edges of my vision turned fuzzy. I flexed my hands as my fingers began to go numb. It took all my focus to keep dragging air into my lungs and pushing it out, over and over in a shaky loop.
Suddenly, I was walking.
No—being pushed.
Luther’s hand pressed into the curve of my back. He was leading me away from the group and across the palace grounds toward Sorae.
“Wh-what happened?” I stammered, struggling to get words out as my breathing turned rapid.
“I told them Sorae was injured and you needed to heal her,” Luther answered calmly.
“I healed her wounds on the flight here.”
“I know.”
Sorae’s wings unfurled to their fullest width. Luther kept me close as he ducked beneath the soft curtain of her feathers. His shadows swirled in the air to drown out the world until there was nothing but us in the darkness.
“One word,” he whispered, curling a hand around the back of my neck. “One word and we’ll leave. I’ll take you somewhere quiet until you’re ready. Alixe can handle things here. Sorae will come get us if we’re needed.”
I could have sobbed at how perfectly he understood. He’d never judged me for my urge to run when things got hard. He’d promised to run with me so I never had to do it alone.
My loyal, selfless Prince.
My mate.
“Luther,” I whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you . . .”
“Anything, my heart.” His eyes jumped between mine, searching, offering. “Whatever you need.”
The warm comfort of his hand on my skin slowed my racing heart, and the sounds beyond the shadows came creeping back in. Wails of injured soldiers, the hoofbeats of arriving horses, crackling from still-burning dragonfyre.
As badly as I needed the joy that closing the bond would bring, this was not the time or place. Luther deserved to be more than a quick box to check before the demands of my Crown pulled me away.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just needed a moment.” I forced myself out of his reach, knowing my resolve would shatter with one more second of his touch. The moment I broke away, a sick feeling took root in my gut. It felt confusingly foreign, like it was happening at a distance.
Luther’s hands hung in the air for a moment before slowly sinking to his sides. “Diem—”
“I can’t leave,” I rushed out. “There’s too much here I need to do. But . . .” I swallowed. “Perhaps, later tonight . . . we could go somewhere private.” I swallowed again. “To talk.”
He gave me a long once-over, his expression unreadable. “Of course.”
He dissolved his shadows, and Sorae cast us a curious glance. She alone knew the secret I guarded—I’d felt her ecstatic reaction to it the moment I’d opened my mind to hers. I ran a hand along her fur to avoid Luther’s probing stare. “I should speak with the Crowns.”
He glowered. “You could toss them in the dungeon for the night. Give them a taste of their own treatment, and let them beg for mercy in the morning.”
Gods, the idea was tempting. Tempting enough that I didn’t say no.
I started back toward the palace, gently pushing aside Sorae’s feathered wing. I paused and looked back at Luther. This time, I made no effort to hide the raw, broken mess I’d become.
“Stay with me?” I asked softly.
“Always, my Queen.”