Chapter 86
REMIS
Long ago, when I was just a schoolboy, I learned that mortals believe hell is a glacier.
They describe it as an infinite expanse of frost beneath the roots of the Everflame tree.
They claim that if you do something so terrible in life that your soul cannot be saved, you’ll be cast into the darkness of the tundra to wander alone, too far from their sacred Undying Fire to ever find comfort in its warmth.
They were right.
Hell was a cold, lonely place.
I knew, because I was there.
“This is disgraceful,” Marthe Hanoverre sniped. “The Crowns are gone, and House Corbois is still finding ways to steal all our money for themselves.”
Across the table, Auralie Bellator narrowed her eyes. “No one is stealing your money. They’re called taxes.”
I rubbed my brow, a headache forming between my temples. The governing council had been arguing for hours, and little progress had been made on any point. The mortals and Descended were still at each other’s throats as viciously as if we’d never fought a war together at all.
“The taxes aren’t going to House Corbois,” Luther said. “The council disburses the funds as we see fit.”
Marthe sniffed. “A council run by a Corbois who has crowned himself as King.”
The others might have looked at Luther and seen a reaction of indifference, but I knew my son. He was one wrong word from putting the Hanoverre matriarch in a long-overdue grave.
“I wear the crown to honor the mortals who gifted it to me,” he said in a steady, even tone, “and to honor our late Queen.” His fingers curled slightly, nails biting into the wooden table. “Whether you call me King or Chief of Council is your choice. What you will not call me is a Corbois.”
I sank into my chair, trying to bury my misery at hearing Luther speak our family name with such distaste.
I’d dedicated my life to defending that name, only to watch it crumble to shame in a matter of months.
With both my brothers dead and my magic gone, I couldn’t fight back as the wealth and influence we’d built over centuries was seized by the council, portioned off, and given away.
I would not have fought it, even if I could.
Now that my wife had left me—a husband without magic is an embarrassment I can no longer bear, she’d said—there were only two parts of this family I cared to hold on to.
One was in Mortal City, of all wretched places, ignoring my fervent commands to rest before my grandchild’s impending arrival.
The other was sitting before me, a bronze crown upon his head.
“His name is Luther Bellator, Marthe,” I cut in. “And given that you are no longer a member of this council, if you wish to continue coming to meetings, I suggest you not disrespect my son’s mate and her name ever again.”
Auralie gave me a slight nod, though my eyes were on Luther.
I’d been trying to make amends, but if my words had won me any ounce of his forgiveness, he didn’t show it.
Nearly nine months had passed since his mate’s death, and it seemed he would never abandon his grudges against those who had wronged her in life—a list my name was high on.
This was a cold, lonely hell indeed.
“These are not mere taxes,” Marthe argued. “You took land that belongs to my House and gave it to people who’ve done nothing to earn it.”
Down the table, a mortal man scoffed. “They fought in the war. That’s more than you can say.”
Marthe shot him a glare. “If I remember correctly, neither did you, boy.”
“Henri fought here in Lumnos,” Auralie said. “He gathered mortals to protect the children in the palace when the Montios Descended attacked. All you did was lock yourself in your vault of riches and hide.”
The man threw Auralie a thankful look, though she gave him the same chilly response Luther had given me.
He’d been hailed as a hero by many in Lumnos for what he’d done to save the orphans, even elected by the mortals to represent them on the council, but despite Auralie speaking up in his defense, she seemed to be holding some grudges, too.
“Marthe has a point,” a woman near me said.
She was young—far too young to be the new Head of House Teniers, in my opinion, but the war had forced the younger generations to grow up faster than any of us would have liked.
“The survivors of the war have earned a safe home, I just don’t understand why that home has to come from us.
It’s not the Houses’ fault their realms were destroyed. ”
“You have far more than you need,” Eleanor said. “Your House can lose twice what the council has taken and still live comfortably for the rest of your lives.”
“It’s a matter of fairness,” the woman insisted. “My ancestors earned our House’s fortune.”
“Fairness?” Henri said. “Your ancestors stole that land from mine, then passed laws to ensure we couldn’t get it back. The fair thing would be for the council to take it all and return it to the mortals.”
Several of the Descended council members groaned. “Here we go again,” one grumbled.
“It’s always about mortal and Descended with you lot,” another complained. “We’re supposed to be equals under the new laws.”
“Equal is not the same as fair,” Auralie said.
“Oh yes, it is,” Marthe snapped. “Whatever is done to my people, rest assured, I’ll see it done right back to yours.”
Henri leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Is that a threat?”
“Wonderful,” Norwick Benette muttered. “We’re back at war already.”
The bickering grew louder as more voices joined the fray.
I glanced at my son, curious at his silence.
He was gazing at the empty seat beside him.
Though Diem’s place on the council had ended with her death, he’d refused to have her chair removed from the table.
He’d declared it a reminder to the council of all those who died so that we had a world left to govern.
I feared the real reason was that he refused, even after all this time, to accept that she was gone.
“Son,” I warned, “it will not end well to let these disputes go unchecked. You are their King. You have to step in.”
Luther flinched as his attention returned to the squabbling that had overtaken the room. Some council members had risen to their feet, pointing angrily at each other and trading accusations with insults, while others slumped in their chairs and sighed.
“They’re never going to stop fighting, are they?” he asked, quietly enough that I wasn’t sure the words were meant for me to hear. “The hate is never going to end. I made her a promise, but what if the world is too broken? What if I can’t . . .”
His eyes suddenly met mine. They held terror, and a plea for help. I had not seen such a look on his face since the day I found him standing in front of his birth mother, pleading for me to spare her life.
How do I prepare my son to be King? I’d once asked the Blessed Lumnos.
Love him, had been her answer.
I still didn’t know whether I’d failed her command that day. I’d been terrified that if I let Florille live, she would expose Luther as a half-mortal and get him killed, and there was no line I wouldn’t cross to save my child.
But I would not fail today.
Not my goddess, and not my son.
“Since the day you were born, I have tried to make you into what I believe a good King should be,” I said.
“You fought it at every turn. You challenged every order I gave you. You broke every one of Ulther’s laws.
” Luther’s brows rose slightly, and I gave him a pointed look.
“Did you really believe I did not know what you were doing with the half-mortals? Why do you think word of their survival never reached my brothers?”
He frowned. “You knew? And you didn’t interfere?”
“I knew you’d never forgive me if I did. I doubted you’d forgive me at all, after what happened. But I had faith that nothing is ever too broken to heal.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Auralie watching us.
She and I had come to a grudging truce since learning of our mutual grandchild.
After weeks of simmering in resentment while watching her grow closer than me to both my children, I’d finally swallowed my pride and asked her for help.
I’d almost torn out what little hair I had left when I heard her answer: Just love them, Remis. That’s all it takes.
But after watching her these past months, I was starting to understand what she meant—and perhaps what Blessed Mother Lumnos meant, too.
Love them for who they are, not for who I thought they should be.
I set a hand on Luther’s shoulder. “I know you will be a good King, and it’s because you fought me, not in spite of it.
Leaders are not those who follow orders.
They’re those with the courage to do what others will not.
” I nodded to the empty chair beside him.
“Your mate had that quality. So do you. You always have.”
“You would not have won my daughter’s heart if you didn’t,” Auralie agreed.
“Lead them, son,” I said.
Slowly, Luther pushed his chair back from the table. The arguing fell to a hush as he rose to his feet. His brows twitched downward, and his hand rose to his chest, fingers lightly brushing his heart. His gaze cut to the eastern wall and lingered, hard and focused.
After a long moment, he shook his head and looked back at the council. “Since the war ended, I’ve been asking myself one question: Is Emarion worth the price we paid to save it?”
Around the room, heads lowered, eyes looked away. There was not a single soul here who had not lost someone in the war. I suspected they often asked themselves the same question.
“Before Diem was Queen, I asked her what she thought of the progeny laws,” Luther continued.
“I knew she despised them, as did I, but I challenged her with the justification that had always been repeated to me: this is what we must do to keep our realm powerful. A terrible evil, but a necessary one to ensure our Descended remain strong. Do you know what she said in response? ‘If the death of innocents is a cost we’re willing to pay, then we don’t deserve to be powerful.
’” His stare drifted among the council members.
“I sit here and listen to you argue over money and land and control, and all I can think is that if letting your neighbors suffer is a cost you’re willing to pay to hoard your power, then you don’t deserve any of it.
And if this council is going to let the world return to the very same place it was before, if we betray all those who fought and died to give us this chance, then we don’t deserve to rule.
” He took the crown off his head. “None of us do.”
Luther started to set the crown on the table, then frowned, touching his chest again.
“We won the war because we didn’t give up,” he said.
“Even when victory seemed impossible, we never lost hope. We never surrendered. We bled and we suffered, but we kept fighting. We offered up our lives, something far more valuable than land or money, in the service of each other. After centuries of letting our differences divide us, we made it our strength instead. We came together as one Emarion, and we defeated the greatest threat this world has ever known.”
He winced, rubbing his sternum hard. “Councilor Benette is right. We are back at war, so let us name our enemy. This time, it’s not a single, evil man.
Nor is it those whose blood or homeland is different from our own.
It is greed. It is selfishness and fear.
It is hate. It is going back the way we came.
If that is the war we face now, we will only win again if we fight it the same way. And I will—”
Luther froze. His eyes flared wide. He pulled at his shirt as a golden glow began to pulse beneath the fabric.
“Diem,” he breathed.
“Put your crown back on, my King.”
Gasps rippled around the room. Across the table, Auralie let out a choked cry, hands clutched over her mouth. People began to slide from their chairs and kneel, heads bowing with whispered prayers.
The Blessed Mother’s name rose to my lips as I watched Diem Bellator walk into the room, clad in a gown of moon-white light and wearing a crown of silver Fire.
Trembling and silent, Luther sank to his knees.
His eyes gleamed as he gazed up at his mate, who stopped in front of him and brushed her fingers over his brow.
There was a serenity to her face that, strangely, calmed me, too.
I had not realized how much my son’s devastation had become my own until I watched it heal before my eyes.
My dark and joyless tundra began to bloom with warmth.
At that, even I fell to my knees and bowed my head.
Diem smiled as she took the crown from Luther’s hands. “What if our story isn’t over, Luther Bellator?” She gently placed it on his head. “What if it’s only beginning?”
“You’re alive,” he whispered.
“There’s work to be done.” Her eyes sparkled with Fire as she looked at the council. “And I’m ready for the fight.”