My gaze narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
Ravyn let out a gasp that was a little too loud, a little too dramatic. “We wouldn’t dare threaten the Queen. But our dear boy does have such a temper, and he is so thrilled about the wedding. If the betrothal were to be broken off now…”
“He might be inclined to do something rash,” Ryx finished for her.
“Let me guess… something like a Challenge?”
Ryx gave a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just threatened my life—and his own son’s.
“There will be no need for any of that,” Remis cut in, once again stepping between us. “Lilian will do her duty.”
“Marriage is not her duty,” I clipped.
“Perhaps we should allow you two to discuss this in private?” Ravyn offered with a sprightly smile. She took her brother-mate-husband’s hand and cuddled into his hip. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Majesty. You’ll look stunning in our pearls at the wedding.”
Remis cut me off before I could snipe back a response, shooting an unspoken warning to his brother that had Garath dragging Aemonn forward to escort House Byrnum from the room. Remis waited until the corridor was empty, then slammed the door and turned to me with a hiss.
“Are you truly so determined to get yourself Challenged?” he growled. “That was not your business to interfere with.”
“Nor was it yours. Lily will marry whomever she pleases, whenever she pleases, but it certainly won’t be forced on her by you.”
He scoffed. “I don’t have to force her. Lilian is a smart, well-behaved girl. She knows her place.”
“Her place?” Luther and I repeated in unison.
“I am the head of this House,” Remis said, “and I will decide—”
“Are you?” I asked, tilting my head as I crossed my arms. “You’re not the oldest. You’re not the most powerful. You’re not even the highest ranking.” I gave him a slow, unimpressed once-over.
Remis’s temper finally snapped. His composed demeanor melted away, replaced with a predatory rage reminiscent of his son’s. “You think you can steal this House from me?” he boomed. “You were a backwater, uneducated nothing. If I hadn’t allowed you to associate with my House, you’d be dead already.”
Luther moved to intervene, and I stopped him with a laugh. “You begged me to claim House Corbois. I walked in, soaking and muddy, and you practically groveled at my feet. You were so desperate to hold on to a crumb of importance, you gave your entire House away.” I shot him a pointed look. “Maybe now you’ll learn a lesson about selling off family for power.”
Remis snarled and bounded toward me. In a flash of movement and light, Luther shoved me into Taran’s arms and unsheathed the jewel-encrusted sword strapped to his back. Magic seeped from his hands and illuminated the blade in a soft glow.
I’d only seen him wield it once before—the day he confronted me at the hunting lodge, believing I’d killed the late King. I’d teased him then about the gaudy weapon, but from the way the entire room had now gone still, with Remis’s eyes bulging and fixated on the gilded hilt, it was clear there was more to it than I had realized.
“You dare draw the Sword of Corbois on me?” Remis spat. “That sword is only to be used to defend our House.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Luther said, his voice quiet but deadly. “She’s our leader now. Your reign is over.”
Remis huffed. “I am your father!”
“And I was your son,” Luther thundered. “That did not stop you from drawing blood then. And it will not stop me from doing so now.”
Taran’s posture drew tight as he gripped me closer. A sourness hung in the silence, the pungent reek of an old, festering family wound being reopened that I did not fully understand.
Remis’s gaze moved beyond Luther to me and narrowed. Luther raised his sword in warning, his magic crackling in the air, while Taran shifted me further behind him.
“You’re lucky I cannot Challenge you,” Remis muttered.
I lifted my chin. “Why wait? I’ll take you on right now.”
He smiled, clearly considering it.
“You’d have to kill us both,” Luther warned. “Are you so certain the Blessed Mother will select another Corbois if you slay two of her chosen in a row?”
Luther’s words struck their target. Remis took a step back and smoothed down his jacket, his expression resuming its usual ambassadorial calm.
“I hardly need to dirty my hands with such things,” he said frostily. “If the progress of her magic training is any indication, the Challenging will take her off my hands very soon.”
Luther, Alixe, and Taran stiffened and exchanged confused glances. “You don’t know anything,” Luther accused, somewhat unsteadily.
“I know more than you think.” Remis turned his back and strode calmly to the door. “Those dungeons are so poorly guarded after all, practically anyone can slip in and hide in the shadows. If only we had a High General with a more vigilant eye for security.” He paused in the doorway. “Maybe then the Queen’s father would still be alive.”
The mention of my father had my temper shredding and rage exploding out of me. Taran barely had time to lock his arms in a cage around my chest to hold me back before I hurled myself forward, thrashing and snarling with the nastiest swears I could invent.
But Remis had no interest in my ire. His barb had been intended for his son, and from the way Luther’s sword drooped and his head hung low, it seemed that, too, had hit its mark.
“Don’t think for a second you will not pay a price for this betrayal, son,” Remis said, “whether she is coronated or not.”
He left, and no one spoke. Luther kept his back to us as he stared at the open door, sword still in hand, the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders the only evidence of the storm brewing within. We all seemed to be holding our breath in wait.
When he finally turned to us, his rage had tempered, his gaze now hard with focus. One by one, he stared us down, barking orders that left no room for even a Queen to debate.
“Eleanor, stay with Lily. Keep her away from my father.”
Eleanor gave a swift nod.
“Alixe, you’re with Teller. Keep him out of sight as much as you can until the Challenging.”
“Understood,” Alixe said.
Luther looked at me for a long, torturous moment, then turned to Taran. He sheathed his sword, clapped his palm on his cousin’s shoulder, and leveled him with an unforgiving stare. “Do not let her out of your sight. Not even for a second.”
“I won’t,” Taran vowed. “She’s safe with me.”
Luther didn’t move, holding his gaze in silent challenge. “Taran,” he said quietly.
Taran placed his own hand on Luther’s shoulder and gave it a firm shake. “I know, cousin. With my life.”
Luther let out a sharp breath and pushed away, heading for the door.
“Wait,” I called out as I ran to his side. He didn’t stop at first, seemingly lost in the darkness of his thoughts. I reached for his hand, and the moment my skin brushed his, we both froze in place. “You really think Remis would hurt Teller or Lily?”