Chapter 35 #2
“After I left Arboros, I took a stop on my way up north to visit some friends,” he said.
“By the time I made it to Montios, the Guardian camp was gone. Then I stumbled on Vance. Never thought I’d see the day he worked with a Descen—hold on, did I hear right?
That big glowing guy is your father?” Diem grimaced, and he barked a laugh.
“By the Flames, woman, you never stop with the surprises.”
“Believe me, it was a surprise for me, too. Wait”—she gripped his arm—“does this mean you know where they are?”
“’Fraid not. I didn’t stick around long.” His grin gave way to something more troubled. “After the first attack, I knew it wasn’t for me. The way they carved those people up. And the children . . .”
Her eyes went wide. “Are they still alive?”
“Wish I knew. Ophiucae sent them away with some women. Mortals—other Guardians, I think. He wouldn’t tell us where they went, not even Vance.
” He shook his head. “I’m no fan of Descended, but what they’re doing up there .
. . it’s not right. Your mother would never let the Guardians do anything like that. ”
“Indeed,” I murmured.
His eyes shot to me. “You must be Luther. I’ve heard lots about you.” The clip of his voice suggested little, if any, had been good.
“Brecke’s an old friend,” Diem explained to me. “He helped me escape when the Guardians were holding me hostage in Arboros.” She turned to him. “Brecke, this is Luther Corbois, my—”
Her abrupt silence went on a little too long, and Brecke arched a curious brow.
“Her advisor,” I finished. I extended a hand. “Welcome to Lumnos, Brecke.”
Stone-faced, he stared at my waiting hand, then at me. He turned to Diem and smirked. “Look at us. First rebels, then fugitives. Now you’re the Flamin’ Queen. Guess I have a thing for serving Bellator women.”
“You’re joining my army?” she asked.
He nodded. “After I left Montios, I heard some crazy lady claimed to have all the Crowns. I sent Albanon a hawk to see if it was true. He told me to get my ass to Lumnos. Said you were doing something special here, and we needed to help.”
Diem’s face softened. “Henri said that?”
Brecke pointed his chin to the north edge of camp. “Ask him yourself.”
Her breath hitched as she turned to see Henri sitting on a log on the camp’s outer perimeter. Lana was perched on his lap, and they were talking with faces close, his hand pressed to her belly.
“You know,” Brecke said, sidling close to Diem and throwing an arm across her shoulder, “Lana seems like a very nice girl, but I bet all my finest blades that if you offered to take him back, Henri would—”
All the strength in Emarion couldn’t have stopped the feral growl that tore out of my throat.
Brecke chuckled quietly. “Ah. I see. Albanon’s been replaced, too.”
Diem’s good mood vanished. She ducked out from Brecke’s arm and stiffly stepped away. “I’m glad you’re here, Brecke. We could use your bladesmith expertise.” She paused. “Any chance you can craft armor, too?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t do much of it in the army, but the mechanics aren’t that different from a blade.”
“Perfect. Tomorrow, find my High General, Alixe. Tell her I want you to help with our secret project. Tell her I trust you with the truth.”
“You Bellators and your secrets,” he teased, though he preened a little at her trust. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I slid an arm around Diem’s waist, and I didn’t pretend it was anything other than possessive. “Nice to meet you, Brecke. We must go. Her Majesty has an appointment.”
“That wasn’t what you brought me to see?” she asked as I led her away.
“No.” My stomach felt coated with tar. “This is.”
As we approached Henri’s tent, Lana eyed us both, then took Henri’s face in her hands and planted him with a passionate—perhaps also possessive—kiss.
As subtly as I could manage, I watched Diem out of the corner of my eye. She frowned and averted her gaze from the showy display. Though I told myself she was merely being polite, my worst fears jeered that her heart still burned for her former flame.
Lana rose, and so did Henri. “Thank you both for agreeing to this,” I said.
Lana gave a silent nod and a look toward Diem I couldn’t quite interpret. She placed one last kiss on Henri’s cheek, then walked away.
Diem glanced between me and Henri. “What’s going on?”
I squared my shoulders to her and took her hands, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Diem,” I said quietly, “whatever it is you’re keeping inside, it’s eating you alive.
You’re fighting some battle I can’t see, and I promised you I’d never let you fight alone.
” I squeezed her hands. “He was your closest friend. If you can’t talk to me . . . then talk to him.”
The emotions on her face were beyond what words could label. She seemed to be weighing, deliberating, deciding . . . what? Whether to speak to him, or whether to slap me for going too far?
My aura curled around her and held her in a way my body couldn’t. Her mouth parted as my godhood brushed its invisible touch across her lips.
Henri stepped forward and held out a hand. “Come on, D. Let’s talk. Just you and me.”
A stronger man would have walked away.
Once Diem let go of my hands and took Henri’s instead, a stronger man would have given them the privacy they deserved. After all, if Diem chose to act on any feelings for him she might still have, I had no right to interfere—though it would not stop me from trying.
But when it came to Diem, I wasn’t a stronger man. I skulked into the nearby forest, cloaked myself in shadows, and I watched.
They were awkward at first. Both of them made an effort to keep distance between them.
They perched on a fallen log and sat as far apart as they could, teetering on each end.
I couldn’t hear their words—that boundary, at least, I wouldn’t cross—but I could tell the conversation was stilted and slow.
I feared this plan, like so many before, was doomed to fail.
And then . . . he made her smile. One second, she was anxiously picking at the bark of the trunk, and the next, she was smirking. Chuckling. Rolling her eyes and shooting him amused, knowing looks.
There was an ease between them, the kind of second-nature comfort that could only come from spending years at a person’s side. The kind she and I hadn’t had time to acquire.
Eventually, she began to talk.
And then she began to weep. When Henri shifted down the log and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, my self-restraint almost vanished. It was only when he led her into his tent and closed the flap that I finally walked away.
That night, I lay awake, unable to forget the bloodless, stricken look on Henri’s face at whatever Diem had told him.