Chapter 22 #2
“So am I. I was a terrible friend. I knew you were hurting, but I was too focused on my own problems to be there for you.” I squeezed him tighter. “Can you forgive me?”
He nodded fervently. “Can you?”
“I can. I do.”
Though I held Henri close, in my heart, I was letting go—of the anger, the blame, the distrust, the regrets, all the burdens our falling out had left on my soul. And of the friendship, for what it had once been and could never be again.
But maybe, with Lana and Luther at our sides, we could find a way to make it something new.
Both of us smirked at the other’s teary eyes. “Are you sure you can be friends with a Descended Queen?” I teased.
“As long as you don’t expect me to call you Your Majesty. You’re always going to be ‘D’ to me.”
No answer could have made me happier.
I moved to pull away, but Henri tugged me back. He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “Tell Luther that if he hurts you, he’ll answer to me.” He kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough to provoke a growl from Luther’s direction, then gave me an impish wink.
“Bastard,” I scolded, laughing. I shoved him away and started toward my Prince, whose eyes solemnly searched mine to make sense of what he’d just seen.
“Do you remember what you said to me that night in the dungeon?” Henri yelled out, though when I glanced back, his stare was on Luther, not me.
“I do,” Luther answered.
“You were an asshole, but you weren’t wrong.” Henri gave a wistful smile. “Don’t ever stop trying.”
Luther’s gaze slid back to me. “I won’t.”
Henri raised his mug in farewell, then walked away.
I stopped in front of Luther, awkwardly sipping my drink. He held out Sorrow’s Edge. “You left this behind.”
Reluctantly, I took the sword, flinching at the whispers that met my touch. Luther had attached it to a weapons belt that I quickly latched around my waist.
“How long were you outside the tent?” I asked.
“Not long. I had business that took most of the night. When I finished, I couldn’t feel your aura. I may have . . . overreacted.” He cleared his throat. “Panicked, a bit. I know you asked me to stay away, but I needed to be sure you were safe.”
“You used the compass,” I guessed. “You found me.”
His gaze burned hot. “I found you.”
We lingered in silence, neither of us able to look away. Our auras twirled and twined together, undaunted by the tension that kept our bodies apart.
Luther risked a step toward me. “Diem, my feelings for you have not changed. If yours have, I beg of you, tell me now. I will still stand by you as my Queen, even if—”
“They haven’t changed.” The words rushed out like a breath, my heart answering before my mind could protest. “But I have.”
To my surprise, he looked as if he understood entirely. “So have I.”
“I need time,” I admitted. “Everything with Ophiucae and the Crowns, everyone fighting each other, and what I might have to do if—” I stopped myself. “It’s a lot to take on. I need . . .”
I need answers.
I need some other way to kill a Kindred.
I need a different fate.
I need you.
“ . . . I need more time.”
“Take as much as you want. I’m here however you need me, even if only to advise you.” He hesitated. “Unless you need space, too.” His jaw ticked. “From me.”
Two sides of me wrestled for control—the strong woman, who would sacrifice herself to spare him, and the weaker one, who couldn’t bear to let go. My mouth bobbed open and closed, the answer changing each time it neared my lips.
I was spared by my mother, who spotted me from across the camp. “Diem,” she called out, waving. “Oh, Luther, I’m glad you’re here, too. We have so much to discuss.” She frowned at my too-large clothes, then looked at Luther. “Did she get dinner last night?”
“She did.”
“And this morning? Has she eaten yet?”
He eyed me. “I’ll get her something.”
“See that you do. Something nutritious. She needs to rebuild her energy.”
“I can answer for myself,” I said crossly. “Luther isn’t my keeper.”
“Being taken care of doesn’t mean being kept, Diem,” she lectured. “You’re the first to offer, but you never accept it yourself. I am your mother, and Luther is your . . .” She glanced between us. Whatever she saw compelled her not to finish. “Let us help you.”
I looked away, not liking how precisely her words had cut. “The only thing I need help with is keeping everyone in Emarion from killing each other.”
“We can help with that, too. I assume Luther has already filled you in on everything that passed while you were away?”
“We, um, haven’t had a chance to talk,” I hedged.
She gave a knowing smile. “Ah, yes, of course. First night alone together in so long.”
My cheeks went hot. “Mother, stop.”
“You’re two grown adults. Sex is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Mother.”
“And Luther and I have put aside our differences.” She gave him a gentle, if a bit awkward, pat on his arm. “I’m happy for you both.”
I slapped a hand over my face.
Luther wisely changed the subject. “You should call a meeting of your advisors this morning. I’d like to ask my cousins what happened here while we were gone. I imagine they’d like to hear the same from both of us.”
My stomach roiled at the thought of the questions my friends would ask, the truths I might have to admit—or the lies I’d have to tell.
“We’ll have time to catch up later,” I said. “I want to visit Mortal City and check on things there.”
“As do I,” my mother said.
I tensed. “I think it’s best if I go alone.”
“No,” she and Luther said in unison.
“I’ve been away for nearly a year,” my mother argued. “Besides, my presence there will help. The mortals may not trust you, now that . . .” She glanced at my Crown.
“Auralie’s right,” Luther said. “No one knows you were trapped on the island. The Crowns claimed you were in hiding with the rebels. The mortals here may feel you abandoned them. Auralie can attest to the truth. But you both need a guard.”
My mother and I responded with loud, matching scoffs.
“Luther, you can’t really believe—”
“I’m more of a danger to them—”
“This is our home, we hardly need—”
“Honestly, I dare them to try—”
“We walked those streets for years—”
He raised a hand to stop us. “Many times I believed someone too weak, too afraid, or too friendly to be a real threat. Time and again, I was proven wrong. I won’t allow either of you to suffer the same mistake.” He looked at me. “Alixe or Taran can accompany you instead, if you want . . . space.”
My mother’s exasperated look turned to one of interest. Her eyes swooped over us, taking in our awkward distance, my silence, the way neither of us quite looked directly at the other. A wrinkle appeared on her brow.
“It’s fine,” I blurted. “Let’s be quick. In and out. The last thing I want to do is cause a scene.”