Chapter 47
LUTHER
Istared at the paper clutched in my hand, my mind as ever on my Queen. I’d deluded myself into believing that once she stopped pushing me away, things between us would be as perfect as they’d been in Sophos. Though Diem had let me back in, I felt no closer to her than when she’d first returned.
My mind agonized over what I’d denied her last night. If all she’d wanted was rough, I would have been eager to comply. My tastes had always tended toward the dark, and so did Diem’s. But the thought of harming her—inflicting pain not to arouse but to truly make her suffer—repulsed me to my core.
I’d sworn I would do anything to help Diem if she asked, but last night left me wondering if there were some lines I wouldn’t cross, not even for her.
If I had, perhaps she wouldn’t be hiding from me today. When I left this morning for an errand in Mortal City, she still hadn’t returned to camp, and the message she’d sent by stealing the compass was clear: she wanted to be alone.
That, at least, I could give her. And if she wanted me to spend more time pursuing my own goals, as she’d admitted in Fortos, I could give her that, too.
“Is it ready?” Auralie asked, eyeing the paper I held as I approached the healers’ center.
“Not yet. Preparations for the battle yesterday slowed things down.” I took another look at the paper, then folded it up.
Besides the men I’d hired, Auralie was the only person I’d told about this secret.
“They said they need another month. I offered to pay them double to finish it tomorrow.” I glowered. “They just laughed.”
Auralie covered her mouth to hide her smile. “Money can’t solve every problem, Prince. Some things simply take time.”
I tucked the paper into my pocket. “How is your plan coming along?”
Her smile faded. “The situation is worse than I thought. I went to speak with the other mortals on the governing council about replacing Brant since he left to join Vance. Apparently, they wish to resign, as well.”
I frowned. “All three?”
“I suspect the other two feel guilty for the bribes they took, but Bruno Albanon . . . I can’t tell if he’s resigning out of shame for what Henri did or anger with Diem for how she responded.
Henri left Lumnos without telling anyone where he was going, not even Lana.
Bruno’s not sure he’ll ever see his son again. ”
I glared. “Bruno’s lucky he still has a son at all. Diem could have killed Henri for what he did. She should have.”
Auralie winced. We fell in step beside each other as we walked back to the palace, and I forced my temper to cool.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Diem told me Henri was close to you, as well. I can only imagine the betrayal you must feel.”
A troubled look passed over her face. “Henri once asked me how I could be married to a man whose values were so different from mine. I told him I couldn’t—I never would have married Andrei if he was the Descended disciple people believed him to be. Andrei cared deeply about protecting the mortals.”
“Did he know you were a Guardian?” I asked.
“We never discussed it. But sometimes . . .” She looked off into the distance.
“Andrei occasionally received letters from Fortos asking for advice on coming attacks. He would spread them out on our kitchen table, along with a map of the continent, and draft his response. Then he would yawn and go to bed early, claiming he needed to sleep on the matter before sending his letter back.”
“You think he wanted you to see it?”
Her solemn gaze returned to me. “My Andrei was a disciplined man. He didn’t leave a mess untidied, not even for a night.”
I stopped short of asking whether she ever read them. Auralie Bellator was a woman of immensely strong values, but they did not include respecting anyone’s privacy, including her family’s.
“Did you tell this to Henri?” I asked instead.
“No. Perhaps I should have.” Her expression turned pained. “Perhaps, if I had . . .”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “It’s bad enough that Diem and Teller blame themselves. You Bellators are too quick to carry the weight of others’ evils on your hearts.”
She threw me a wistful smile. “Well, at least you’ll fit right in.”
My chest clenched. My eyes rose to the distant palace, and I said a silent prayer to the Blessed Mother that my heart would be waiting there when I returned.
“So what are we to do about the council?” I asked.
“I told the others to reconsider their resignations. If they don’t, we’re going to need more votes.”
“The mortals have my vote. Zalaric’s, too. Nidara is less certain. I suspect she would vote how Diem commands, but Diem won’t want to pressure her unless she has no choice.”
I thought for a moment. At the first meeting, the Unhoused Descended had voted with the Twenty Houses, but now that Marthe and Garath had been ousted from the council, there might be a chance to win them back.
I stopped. “Go back to Mortal City. Find every vendor you know who sells their goods to the palace, and tell them the Crown will no longer purchase from anyone who refuses to trade with the Unhoused Descended.”
Her eyes lit up as she worked out my plan. “I’ll send hawks to the mortal farmers near the outer coast, as well. You’ll have Eleanor tell the same to the Descended vendors in Lumnos City?”
“I’ll do it myself, first thing tomorrow. As for today . . .” My gaze turned west. “I think it’s time to take a trip.”
“Faster,” I hissed.
Sorae’s head swung back to me, her eyes narrowing to irritated slits. I’d given the same command twice, despite the short flight home lasting less than an hour.
At the moment, an hour felt like a lifetime.
When I’d returned from Mortal City this morning and Diem still had not come back, I nearly canceled everything to go find her.
It wasn’t unusual for her to disappear for a while when she felt overwhelmed, but rarely without a gryvern—and never without her magic.
Sorae knew even less about Diem’s absence than I did.
With their bond severed, she could no longer sense Diem’s emotions or location.
If Sorae wanted to find her, she’d have to look for her like everyone else.
That’s precisely how I’d convinced her to fly me to the western coast to meet with the Unhoused Descended.
A compromise: she could search the forests by air, and I could be home by nightfall.
But as the sunset-streaked skyline of Lumnos City came into view, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my Queen wouldn’t be waiting at the palace for my return.
“There were so many more than I expected,” Zalaric called out over the wind from behind me. When he heard I was planning to meet with the Unhoused Descended, he’d asked to come. “I counted at least sixty half-mortals among them.”
“And those were just the ones brave enough to come forward,” I agreed. “There were surely more in hiding.”
“They’ll see they can trust us,” Zalaric said firmly. “Especially once you take over as Chief of Council.”
I glanced back. “I suppose I should have asked for your vote before bringing you along to ask for someone else’s.”
“As long as you don’t ask me to be your second, you have my vote. I’m serving on the council as a favor to Diem. I have no desire for a life in politics.” He smoothed a hand along the brocade trim of his silken robes. “I’m far too pretty for that.”
I studied him for a moment. “What kind of life do you desire? If you wish to open an inn like you had in Umbros, Diem would make it happen. Nothing would make her happier than emptying more of the royal vaults.”
“Please, Luther. I’m too pretty for that, as well.
The inn was never about the inn. It was a place for the half-mortals to be safe until they were ready to make a life of their own.
” His features gave way to something a little softer, a little more pensive.
“It was Margie’s idea, that inn, but she was never able to save enough gold. ”
I held out a palm and let an orb of light glow for a moment, then rise up and disappear. “May the Old Gods watch over her spirit.”
Zalaric’s eyebrows shot up. An offering of magic to the mortal gods was heresy, punishable by death.
But my Diem would never enforce it, and if any mortal deserved to spend their afterlife in the gods’ favor, it was Miss Margie, the woman who had taken in the half-mortal orphans and found them new families to call home.
All except for Zalaric—the little boy she’d kept and cherished as her own.
He held out his hand and matched my offering, then watched the rising wisp of shadow melt into the clouds. “There are going to be a lot of orphans when this war is over. They’ll need a home. Schooling. Training in their magic.”
“You want to open an orphanage?”
“I want to make sure no child ever finds themselves walking the streets alone with nowhere safe to go.” He smiled tightly. “Not again.”
The memory of the day we first met resonated in the silence between us. How far we’d come, thanks to the two women in our lives who had been bold enough, and selfless enough, to fight for half-mortals like us.
“I did not think I would ever meet a person worthy of Taran’s love,” I said. “You, Zalaric Hanoverre, have proven me wrong.”
Muscles flexed on his throat beneath the scar from the botched execution that had nearly taken his life as a child.
He sometimes hid it beneath jewelry and silks—particularly around the Hanoverres, I’d noticed, perhaps to deprive them of the satisfaction of seeing his pain.
Today, he’d left it bare, paired with a low-cut robe that made the rippled line stand out against his oiled, dark umber skin.
One of the Unhoused Descended had remarked on our scars, giving us the chance to tell our stories.
Once they saw how we, like them, had suffered from not fitting the Twenty Houses’ mold, it led to discussions of what could be done to make old wrongs right.
I’d left the coast not only with their vote to lead the council, but with a growing optimism for what Emarion could be and the role that I could play within it.