Chapter 59 #4
I began to panic. I knew I couldn’t hide my magic’s loss forever, but I’d hoped to wait until Vance and his men were found. My army believed my magic to be its strongest weapon, and if we had to face one last battle, I feared the consequences to their morale.
I felt my hands rise toward the orb before I could think my doomed plan through, and the crowd let out a cheer. Their hands fell, their magic fading to make room for me to do what all of them combined could not.
“Diem,” Teller whispered, “what are you doing?”
The orchestra hit their final note and let it hold, sustained, eyes peering at me over their music.
Suddenly, a flash of light exploded at my palms. A glowing stream spiraled around me, then arced across the sky. It collided into the shield and instantly crushed it into a cloud of glittering mist. From within the shield, a mass of white broke apart, its pieces fluttering toward the ground.
The crowd erupted. Their hands returned to the air, this time stretching toward the twirling items.
“Did you do that?” Teller asked.
I shook my head. I looked at Luther—he gazed back, but his frown was written with questions, not answers.
“Let the Blessed Mother Lumnos guide the Gilded Gryvern to its home,” Zalaric announced blandly, feigning irritation as a clapping Taran hopped up and down beside him. Zalaric’s eyes found mine, softened, and winked.
Thank you, I mouthed.
I’ll send you a bill tomorrow, he mouthed back.
“They’re little gryverns,” Teller said. He grabbed a handful from the air and squinted at the tiny scraps of translucent paper. Each one had been folded into miniature versions of the creature, their pleated wings causing them to flap in chaotic circles as they fell.
A cloud of them rained down over me, their tiny tails tickling my nose.
I reached up to catch a few, wanting to save one for Sorae, who’d been spending every waking hour patrolling the borders and coast. My eyes caught on a gleam of warm light—one gryvern unlike all the others, whose edges had been tipped with gold.
Its wing had crumpled, causing it to tumble in a fast descent.
I held out my palm to catch it, but just as it grazed my skin, another paper gryvern bounced off my finger and knocked it aside—right onto Lily’s shoulder. She plucked it off and gasped. “I found it,” she yelled, beaming. “I found the—”
Her smile vanished. She looked at Teller, who was distractedly unwrapping one of the miniature creatures to study its folds. Lily quickly placed it in my palm.
“Her Majesty found it,” she announced, a good deal louder and a great deal less enthused.
I frowned. “Lily, you—”
“It’s a very good omen,” she interrupted.
“They say the Descended who catches it will be the next to mate.” Her lips pressed tightly as she nestled into Teller’s side—Teller, a mortal, who she could marry but not mate.
Her joy of a moment earlier had transformed into something bittersweet, something made of love and sacrifice and complicated, contradicting want.
He dropped the paper he’d been studying to wrap an arm around her waist, and she hurriedly washed her face of anything less than bliss.
She’d apparently learned a thing or two from Luther about hiding her true emotions, though where Luther’s mask was stone-carved reserve, Lily’s mask was purity and light. For Teller’s sake, I was grateful for her kindness. For her sake, my heart broke.
I gave a subtle nod to let her know I understood, and her eyes crinkled with silent appreciation. “You’re the right person to catch it,” she offered. “You and Luther would make perfect mates.”
The mark on my chest burned in agreement.
“Queenie!” Taran hollered. He bounded through the crowd, nearly toppling over countless guests, and swept me off my feet into a lung-squishing hug. “Well, this is ironic, huh?” he murmured in my ear.
I froze in his arms. Shit. What did he know? How did he know it?
He peeled away with a knowing wink, but before I could ask, he lifted me up to perch me on his shoulder. He turned to the crowd and pumped his fist. “May the Gilded Gryvern lead her to her mate!”
The guests echoed his cheer, raising their glasses to me. I looked at Eleanor, wondering if she’d told him, but her bittersweet smile, and my gut instinct, told me no. While she was adept at collecting other people’s secrets, when it came to mine, her lips were a vault.
Alixe came winding through the celebrants. Though she’d been at the ceremony, I hadn’t seen her since. Her somber features didn’t look like she’d returned for dancing and drinks.
I tapped Taran’s shoulder, and he gently slid me back to my feet. He grabbed my hand as the music resumed. “Come on, Queenie, I’m claiming a dance before Lu steals you to himself for the rest of the night.”
“I’m afraid I have to steal Her Majesty first,” Alixe interrupted.
Taran poked out his lower lip. “It’s my mating day. Let me have one dance.” His eyebrows wiggled at me. “I’ve got things to discuss.”
“Sorry, cousin,” she said. “So do I, and mine are rather urgent. A boat of Centenaries just arrived.”
Taran’s smile dropped instantly into a glare. “If they came for Zalaric—”
“They didn’t. They’ve come to seek asylum.” Alixe’s eyes cut to me. “Umbros has fallen.”