I held my tongue—biding my time.
He jerked toward me a few times in an effort to provoke me to act, but I kept up my slow rotation.
Watching. Waiting.
“Are you going to just hop around like that or are you going to throw a punch?” he pushed.
Still I waited.
His grin took on a devilish slant. “Maybe you don’t want to know. Maybe you’re running fr—”
Thwack.
Taran’s head snapped to the side as my knuckle connected with his jaw. He staggered backward in surprise, then lost his balance, tumbling onto his back on the stone floor of the dungeon.
I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. “On my first attempt. How embarrassing for you.”
He winced and rubbed his face. “Fine. I deserved that, too.”
“Well?” I stood over him with my hands on my hips. “What’s the big secret, then? Why can’t I use my magic?”
He let his limbs go limp and patted the ground next to him in an invitation to sit. I rolled my eyes but gave in, curling up at his side.
“Do you remember when Alixe said the godhood is tied to our emotions?” he asked.
I nodded and pulled my knees to my chest, already apprehensive about where the conversation was headed.
“Well, in order for the godhood to feed off of our emotions, we must actually have emotions. And you don’t. Not anymore.”
“Taran, my mother is missing, my father is dead, my brother’s in danger, and I’m probably about to die. Believe me, I have no shortage of emotions.”
“Maybe somewhere in there, but you’re not letting yourself feel them.” He shook his head sadly. “When you got here, you were full of life. You laughed, you cried, you flirted, you got angry. You threatened Luther within an inch of his life. You threatened half of Lumnos within an inch of their lives. When’s the last time you’ve done any of that?”
I hugged my legs tighter and rested my chin on my knee, staying silent.
“I’ve been trying to pick a fight to get something out of you, but you won’t even be angry with me. The moment you start to feel anything real, you shut it down.”
“I just… I need more time,” I mumbled.
“I know.” He reached over and grabbed my hand, wrapping it up in his calloused palm. “But you don’t have time, Queenie.”
I sighed and stretched out on the cold floor beside him, closing my eyes as I laid my head back.
As I had done every day prior, I tried to conjure up some tendril of feeling, some well of anger or sadness that might provoke the godhood into action. It felt like sticking my hand into a firepit—I could sense the dangerous warmth that lay within, but the moment my mind began to register the pain of it, I was jerked back to the cold safety of numbness.
It was no longer a conscious choice, but a reflex, a raw act of survival. Because if I truly gave in and walked into that inferno, I wasn’t sure I would ever walk back out.
“Diem?”
“Yes?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I cringed at the realization I’d pushed him so far away that he doubted even that.
I squeezed his hand. “Of course we are. You mean a great deal to me, Taran.”
“Then can I ask you a serious question?”
“Sure.” I looked over and forced out a supportive smile. “Ask me anything.”
“When are you and Luther going to put all of us out of our misery and fuck each other already?”
“Taran,” I choked.
“Descended men are bigger than mortal men, you know. In every way. One night with Lu, and you’d forget that mortal’s name. Shit, you’d forget your own name.”
He roared with laughter as I yanked my hand out of his and punched him hard in the side, my entire face going cherry red. “Is this another of your attempts to piss me off?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning. I tried to move away and he grabbed me around the waist, hauling me back. “I’d still like an answer, though.”
“Taran,” I warned. “I’m betrothed.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, to a man who couldn’t be bothered to attend your father’s funeral on time. Then when he finally arrived, he looked at you like you killed his favorite hound, even though you were the one grieving. A man who apparently only wants to marry you to be King, from what you said at the ball.”
“It’s complicated. And it’s none of your business.”
“Listen, I’m sure he’s a very nice person… well, I’m sure he thinks he’s a very nice person… but you can’t really believe he’s a better man than Luther.”
I worked my jaw but said nothing.
“Luther would throw himself on a sword for you. He would risk everything to protect you.”
“He would do that for you, too. Or Alixe, or Eleanor, or Lily.”
“Well, yes, he would, but we—”
“And for that matter, he would do those things for a complete stranger.”
“Yes, true, but—”
“In fact, he already has done those things for strangers. Many times.”
“If you could stop being logical for one minute—”
“You don’t have to convince me Luther is a good man, Taran. I know that already.”
“No, Diem, I don’t think you do. Not really.”
Taran’s tone had gone unusually serious. When I looked at him, there was a softness to his eyes, a profound gravity I didn’t often see.
“He’s the best man I know—the best man I’ve ever known. And for all those years, he’s never put himself first, not even once. Every single thing he does is to help someone else. I could give you enough stories to last a lifetime. People he’s helped out of bad situations, children whose lives he sav—”
Taran stopped, catching himself. His eyes filled with panic as they met mine.
“I know about the half-mortal children,” I murmured. “He told me.”
“He did?” His shoulders relaxed, and he shook his head, smirking. “Well, he wouldn’t tell that to a complete stranger, would he?”
I snorted softly. “No, just to a skeptical new Queen whose trust he was scrambling to earn.”
“Stop,” he growled. His voice, and his face, went hard as stone. “Don’t act like he’s one of those scheming court pricks. He deserves better than that.”
I didn’t know what to say. Questioning Luther’s motives had become a crutch that I leaned on every time the evidence of his good heart made me look a little too closely at my own. It was easier to deflect rather than confront the truth. And Luther did deserve better than that.
“I’m betrothed,” I said again, less sure than I was before.
Taran sat up beside me. He raked a hand through his dark blonde waves, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and gave me a pained look.
“He’ll wait for you, you know. It’s going to destroy him, but he’ll do it. He’ll sit back, and he’ll watch you marry that mortal. He’ll defend you to the entire realm while you put a crown on that jerk’s head and let him parade around calling himself King for however many decades he has left. And when he dies, Luther’s going to hold you while you mourn. Even if it takes you centuries to move on. And Kindred forbid, if you have children with that man, Luther will be there for them too, as the best uncle they’ve ever had. And when their mortal father is gone, Luther will step up and love them as if they were his own.”