Chapter 64 #2
Taran snorted loudly. “Passed the night same as your siblings, eh?”
“Your Majesty,” Alixe cut in, “your advisors are already gathered in the meeting room. The council will join us this afternoon.”
I nodded. “Let’s invite Symond to the council meeting, too.”
Eleanor winced. “Um, Diem, I’m not sure that’s . . .”
“Absolutely not,” Luther growled.
Teller gaped. “Are you crazy?”
I frowned. “Are we not on the same side of this war? This is the Centenaries’ home now, too.”
The others looked down, abashed, but Luther’s glare stayed firm. “Appointing a Centenary to advise you is wise. Choosing him is not.”
I returned his scowl, though I was secretly relieved our mating had not changed his willingness to challenge me. “We can invite Drusila as well, but Symond is their leader.”
“He tried to kill you, Diem.”
Before that, he’d tried to fuck me. Before that, he’d tried to invade my mind and control me. I couldn’t be sure which of the three would set Luther off most.
“I need the Centenaries’ help,” I said. “I’m not going to get it without Symond. If he tries anything, you have my permission to do whatever you want.”
Shadows thrashed in Luther’s eyes in eager assent.
As if he’d been listening—suspiciously like he’d been listening—Remis emerged from the palace. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing in deferential greeting. “I heard your advisors were meeting. I wanted to ensure I didn’t miss it.”
I cringed, remembering his appointment as my Warden of the Shadows.
Sorae, however, had not forgotten the man who locked her up to keep her from my side. As Remis walked closer, she lunged at him, growling.
“Oh for Kindred’s sakes,” he said, jumping away. “How many centuries have we worked together, Sorae?”
“You put her in chains,” I reminded him.
“To keep the Crowns from killing her to weaken you.” He gave her an indignant stare. “I let you go when she called you from Sophos, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t call Sorae from Sophos,” I said.
“Something summoned her. She nearly strangled herself trying to get free.”
“I did,” Luther said. “When I realized Doriel had betrayed us, I wasn’t sure I could get to you in time, so I sent a warning to Sorae.” He pressed a hand to his mating mark. “I prayed this would help her hear me.”
My breath caught. If Sorae hadn’t come, Luther and Teller would have died on the island. Mating with Luther had healed my wound and saved my life—and mating with me had saved his.
“So you finally told her,” Remis said. He looked wearily at the sky. “Thank the Blessed Kindred.”
Taran snorted. “Took long enough.” He stiffened, staring at Luther. “Wait . . . you told him but not me?”
Eleanor gaped at Taran. “You knew?”
Taran gaped back. “You knew, too?”
Zalaric smirked. “I knew about them both.” He jerked his chin at what was left of my sheer bodice. “I designed the dress to show off your mark and hurry things along. If I had to keep watching you two touch your chests every five minutes, I was going to explode.”
“What is he talking about?” my mother asked, stare darting between us. “What do they know?”
I looked at Luther, and the grins we’d been wrestling to subdue came soaring free. “We’re mated!” I shouted, the words bubbling out of me with a joyous laugh.
“We’re mated,” he confirmed quietly, love blazing in his eyes.
Our friends crowded in as we recounted the unusual details, though we demurred when pressed on why we kept it from each other for so long. The truth, the whole truth, would bring an end to this happy moment, and I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet.
“How did you know?” Luther asked, eyes narrowing at his father. “I told no one.”
“Your illusions are good, son, but they are not perfect. I’ve spent many years looking at your scar and thinking on my role in causing it. I knew you were hiding something there. Watching you with her, it didn’t take long to figure out.”
“Can we see your marks?” Lily asked.
I shifted the torn remnants of my dress to show off the shimmering symbol that lay over my heart, and Luther took off his coat to reveal his.
Lily leaned in toward his chest, hand hovering over it like it was a holy object, too sacred to touch.
I couldn’t unsee the quiet envy that tempered her smile—nor the way my brother watched her, then looked away.
Taran burst into tears, throwing himself into Luther’s arms. “I’m so—sob—always knew—sob—so happy—sob—love you both.” More tears were streaming down his face than at his own mating. His reddened eyes rose to mine, filled with gratitude and oceans of fondness. “You chose him, Queenie.”
“I did,” I said, smiling through tears of my own.
Eleanor and Lily swept me up in ecstatic hugs, then fell into excited chatter with Zalaric about the post-mating party they’d already made up their minds to plan.
Alixe flashed me a congratulatory smile that grew larger as she reached around a blubbering Taran to clasp Luther’s forearm.
“I knew someday I’d be calling you Your Majesty,” she teased him.
Taran gasped, head popping up. His eyes grew large. “Lu, you’re Queenie’s mate! That makes you . . .”
“No,” Luther said sternly.
“Kingie!” Taran cried. “Queenie and Kingie!”
“I am not King,” Luther said, trying unsuccessfully to peel his cousin off. “And I am certainly not Kingie.”
“You’re the Queen’s mate,” Lily said. “That makes you King Consort.”
“Only if Her Majesty wishes.” He said it quickly, almost dismissively. “The title means nothing to me.”
It meant everything to me.
I understood his reluctance to claim it, after a lifetime neither wanting nor believing in a future as King. But a part of my soul had fused to his, and his to mine, and there was no title, no throne, no life I did not want him to share.
“And if Her Majesty does wish it?” I asked.
He looked at me, again searching for confirmation that this was a choice made of love, not obligation. He pressed a palm to his chest and slowly dipped his chin. “Then I vow to serve her people for the rest of my days.”
His cousins erupted in cheers. My brother clasped Luther’s wrist, then turned his smirk on me. “You found someone willing to put up with you forever? The Old Gods must have been working hard on that one.”
I laughed and looked at our mother, whose hands were clutched to her heart, eyes closed and lips moving with whispered words. I only caught one—Andrei.
Remis edged past Sorae and came to stand in front of me. He held my stare, saying nothing.
Remis Corbois and I had more in common than I wanted to admit.
He loved his son—though I’d doubted it once, his anguish at Luther’s godstone wound had been too much like mine for me to deny.
And he’d shown that love in the same way I had: by protecting Luther, even when it drove them apart.
I suspected we both worried deeply that the path we wanted for Luther was not the path he was fated to walk.
“I used to pray to the Blessed Mother that his affection for you was a ploy to hold on to power,” Remis said. “The possibility that he might genuinely love you filled me with a terror I have not known since the day I believed him dead by my hand.”
“Father,” Luther warned, his smile fading.
I set a hand on Luther’s arm to quell his rising ire. “I just want Luther to be happy,” I told Remis.
“A man cannot be happy unless the people he loves are safe,” Remis said. “I fear that’s something that you may never be.”
I nodded, understanding too well. But perhaps there were more important things a person could be than safe.
Luther slipped an arm around me, staring hard at his father. “I am happy,” he insisted, “and I will protect her.”
“Someday, son, I pray you will see that I have tried to do the same.” He took a deep breath and smoothed his jacket. “Well, now that the news is out, let me formally welcome you as our newest Corbois.”
My mother cut him off with a sharp noise. “I believe it’s Descended custom for couples to take the more powerful partner’s name, isn’t that right? Luther tells me my daughter is the most powerful Descended there is.” She flashed Remis a conquering smile. “That makes him Luther Bellator.”
Emotion exploded through the bond—my own glowing pride, and from Luther, a feeling that mere words could not describe. A feeling that nearly brought me to my knees.
My mother turned to him, beaming warmly. “Welcome to the family, son.”
Luther’s hand trembled on my side. “Thank you,” he said, voice rough. “I will endeavor to do the name proud.”
Remis’s frozen smile had never looked more miserable. “What a blessed occasion,” he rasped.
Again, Taran burst into tears. He circled an arm around Teller’s neck and dragged him back to Luther’s side. “More brothers,” he wailed, crushing them both against him.
“And sisters,” Zalaric said, hooking his arm into Lily’s and winking.
“It doesn’t matter what our last names are,” I said. “We’re all family now, one way or another. That means we have to look out for each other. No more holding grudges or seeing each other as enemies..” I glanced around at each of them. “Can you do that?”
“We’re with you, Queenie,” Taran said, squeezing Teller and Luther so hard they both let out a grunt. He shot out a hand-shaped shadow that pat Remis on the head. “Right, Uncle?”
Remis forced a smile. “I’m at your service, Your Majesty.” He looked at Taran. “But if you do that again, I’ll tell everyone what you hide under your bed.”
Taran blanched. “You know about that?”
Zalaric looked intrigued. Luther barked a laugh. Remis’s smile turned a little less fake.
He was trying. For Luther, for his family, he was trying.
I looked nervously at my mother. Her stubbornness was the stuff of legend. I doubted there was anything that would win her acceptance of Remis if she’d made up her mind not to give it.
But she was trying, too. And she was, if nothing else, strategic.
She gave a light shrug. “As your father would say, never turn down allies in wartime.”
I drew in a deep, grounding breath. “Good, because there’s something I need to tell you all . . . and we’re going to need every ally we can get.”