Chapter 23 #2
Marthe—along with many others—murmured loudly in agreement.
“We spent all night collecting our dead,” she went on. “Why were you not there to help?” More murmurs, more nods. “Where were you today? Lumnos City is in ruins. Many are dead. What more does it take to get the attention of our Queen?”
“I was in Mortal City.”
Eating berry tarts and swooning over Luther.
“Was Mortal City attacked, as well?” Iléana asked, barely concealing her smile. “Did a gryvern burn their homes?”
Guilt sank its fangs in deep, worse for being caused by Luther’s conniving ex. “No,” I admitted. “But—the Crowns—some townsfolk were imprisoned. The people were upset—”
My stammering was drowned out by a thunderous roar of responses.
I glanced around at the room I’d initially dismissed as selfish elites come to usurp my throne.
Many had half-fallen updos and rumpled clothes stained with soot.
A few had traces of blood crusted on their hands.
It wasn’t jealousy or greed that smoldered in their sapphire eyes—it was betrayal and resentment.
The truth settled over me like a mildewed cloak.
My choice today had been selfish. I hadn’t gone to Mortal City because they needed me.
I went because I was sinking into misery, so I’d run to the one place that felt like home.
Meanwhile, Lumnos City did need me, and I’d let my prejudice against them get in the way.
Marthe rapped her cane against the marble floor until the room fell quiet. “I warned you all before the Challenging. The girl is unfit to rule.”
“We’re at war,” Evrim Benette said. “We can’t count on her to protect us, so we must protect ourselves.”
“Say the word, Queenie,” Taran mumbled, appearing with Zalaric beside me. “I’ll roll Zal into a ball and knock ’em down like pins.”
I let out a sigh and looked at Marthe. “What are your demands?”
Her haunches wiggled like a cat about to pounce. “A council to govern the realm, led by the five largest Houses.”
“Five?” asked a man wearing the golden crest of House Ghislaine. “You said all Twenty Houses would get a say.”
“You will—through us.” Marthe gestured to Evrim, then Remis, then two others from the larger houses. “We’ll hear each House’s concerns and make choices for the good of us all.” She waved a knobby hand at Doriel and Obaneryn. “The true Crowns have agreed to recognize our authority.”
“We did nothing of the sort,” Doriel said quickly, shooting nervous glances my way. “We agreed to hear your offer and discuss it with your Qu—the Queen.”
“What’s to discuss?” the Ignios Regent asked. “It’s a better choice than her. On behalf of Ignios, I give them my vote.”
“Your votes don’t matter,” Eleanor protested. “Diem decides for Ignios. Sophos and Meros, too.” I stared in shock—and pride—at my normally shy friend. “And if House Corbois has a seat on any council, it’s hers to fill.”
Iléana’s lashes fluttered as she rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows she’s not a Corbois, Eleanor. I bet her real father is the man who attacked us. I heard him call her daughter.” Her head gave a smug, obnoxious tilt. “Unless House Corbois intends to claim him, too.”
Jean threw a contemptuous glance at Zalaric, the half-mortal son he’d abandoned for dead. “They’ve already collected one worthless stray.”
Taran let out a snarl, hands clenching into fists.
“Down, boy,” Zalaric murmured. “He’s not worth the time it would take to clean his blood off my shoes.”
“I’ll buy you new shoes,” Taran gritted out. “The prettiest ones you want. Just let me kill him.”
I had half a mind to do the same myself, but I saw through the Hanoverres’ tricks. They wanted me to lose my temper and do something reckless. They might even sacrifice one of their own, if it meant convincing the other Houses I was a danger.
“A fine idea, Marthe,” I said instead.
The competition for the most stunned face in the room was steep.
Eleanor gaped. “You agree?”
“Of course. The people of this realm deserve a voice in its governance, don’t you think? All its people.”
Her eyes flared as my words sank in. The corners of her mouth crept upward. “If it’s a council of the people, surely the mortals will demand some seats.”
“Surely,” I agreed. “It’s only fair.”
Marthe scoffed. “What a vulgar suggestion. I never—”
“The Unhoused Descended, too,” I said.
“Absolutely not,” Marthe squawked. “Being Unhoused is a punishment. We cannot reward them for—”
“If the Unhoused Descended get a seat, then my House gets a seat,” the Ghislaine man cut in.
“Mine too,” another woman called out.
I shrugged. “Fine with me. All the Houses get a seat.”
Marthe banged her cane, screeching about my preposterous, unworkable plan, but her protests were lost in the room’s excited chatter about my offer and the implications it might have on the realm.
One voice did slice through the clamor—low and strong, its familiar timbre pulsing hot through my blood.
“And what of the half-mortals?”
The crowd quieted as they turned toward the man in the doorway, his piercing blue-grey eyes pinned on me.
“Do we get a seat at the table?” Luther asked.
My heart stopped, though the galloping beat of his echoed over the bond.
Did he just . . . ?
“Son,” Remis warned. “A word. In private.”
Luther ignored him and prowled toward me.
“Our voices were silenced by the progeny laws. Those of us who managed to survive were forced to hide, in Lumnos and abroad.” He stopped in front of me, holding me captive in his stare.
“We will fight for this realm. We’ll lay down our lives to protect it.
No time or space will ever change that.” He lifted a hand to the sigil of the Lumnos Crown stitched across his heart.
“This is our home. Our love for it is eternal.”