“That settles it,” Aemonn chirped. “I’ll come find you after lunch.”
“Perfect.” I beamed back at him, relishing in Luther’s discomfort. “And please, call me Diem.”
Aemonn took both my hands and pressed his lips twice against each set of knuckles. “Until tomorrow, Diem.”
He gave me a roguish wink before strolling away, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. For a people who were infamously impassive, these Descended were eager to posture before their new Crown.
Luther watched me, looking as if he had an entire library of words he was feverishly trying to hold back.
“Something to add?” I asked in my most innocent tone.
“You made it quite clear you do not desire my counsel.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
He gave me a long stare, then his eyes roved downward, pausing on my daggers before rising again. “I presume you intend to stay in the palace this evening.”
“I intended to stay in the hunting lodge. Far away from—” I gestured at the remaining crowd. “—all of this.”
“The lodge isn’t secure. You won’t be safe there.”
“Believe me, I can defend myself.”
“No, you can’t.” The words were firm—not an insult, just a fact. “Against a mortal perhaps, but not against a Descended. Not until you’ve mastered your magic.”
My pride rankled. “I told you, I don’t have any magic.”
“We can discuss that tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing to disc—”
“The King’s body is lying in state in the royal suite, but there are guest quarters you can use for now. I’ve already made the arrangements.”
The discussion of where to sleep had my body catching up with my brain, and I was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of just how exhausted I was.
“Fine,” I muttered, my eyelids drooping.
We marched without speaking through a twisting, turning path of dark hallways lined with more doors than I could count. I knew the palace was large from its grand exterior, but inside, it became a labyrinth I couldn’t imagine understanding, let alone ever calling it home.
“You grew up here?” I asked as we walked.
“We all did. House Corbois has held the Crown for as long as any of us have been alive.”
I wondered vaguely if Teller and I would have liked being children here, sliding down the polished wooden stair rails, hiding behind the ornate furniture and making up stories for the stuffy, pretentious-looking ancestors whose portraits lined every wall.
I tried to imagine Luther as a child, giggling and wrestling with Lily in the way my brother and I had. My mind came up utterly blank.
“Did you enjoy being raised in the palace?” I asked.
“To be raised Corbois is a great privilege.” His tone was stiff, almost mechanical. “All our children are well cared for and protected, with every opportunity provided to them. I am very grateful for those blessings.”
“That wasn’t my question. Were you happy?”
He stayed silent for a while, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. “I was presumed the King’s successor from a very young age. My childhood, and all the years since, were dedicated to preparing for that duty. There was little time for much else.”
Despite myself, I felt a twinge of sympathy. I knew how it felt to grow up thinking one’s fate was already drawn in ink.
“My mother began training me as a healer when I was a toddler,” I said quietly. “That was the only future I ever expected to have. It was nothing like being the King’s heir, of course, but…” I shrugged and looked down at my feet. “Mortal women have so few opportunities. Everyone always told me I was lucky to be born onto a wider path.”
He glanced at me, his expression softening. “But it doesn’t feel wider when it’s a path you didn’t choose.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Luther’s eyes roamed across the expansive palace hallways, his stance relaxing as his features turned pensive. It reminded me of the side of him I had glimpsed the morning after the armory fire—unguarded, unpretentious, and disarmingly genuine.
“There were some happy moments here,” he admitted. “This is the only home I’ve ever known. Nearly all my memories take place within these walls, good and bad alike.”
“Is that why you’re helping me now, because you don’t want to leave?”
“No. Though I’m glad you’ve finally admitted I’m helping you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not what I meant.”
In the dim glow of the firelit sconces, I could just make out the upward curve of his lips. There it was again—he was smirking. I tried to muster some energy to be indignant, but I had nothing left to give.
I made a mental note to be angry with him again after I slept.
“I’m not afraid of House Corbois losing its royal status, if that’s what you’re asking. Whatever choice you make, we’ll survive.” He paused. “Though if you do find a way to pass on the Crown, I ask that you not force the children out of their home, in case it returns to a Corbois.”
I frowned. “I don’t want to kick anyone out of their home. There’s been too much of that by the Descended already.”
“Indeed, there has.”
My steps faltered at his unexpected agreement. I swore I caught a flash of surprise blink across his own face, as if he hadn’t intended to say the words aloud.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I prodded. “I’m not asking what your family wants. I’m asking what you want.”
He looked over at me, his gait slowing as he scanned my face.
“Everyone expected that you would inherit the Crown,” I said.
“And you believe that I’m disappointed I did not.”
“Are you?”
He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. His arms crossed over his chest, the action widening his already broad frame.
I’d never thought myself small, not by any meaning of the word. But something about standing in front of this man, with all his size and strength and magic, his refinement and knowledge and ego… It made me feel minuscule. A speck of dust floating through a mighty ray of sunshine.
“If I had been called to serve as king, or if I am in the future, I would accept the role with honor.”
Words hung in the air, something still unspoken.
“But?” I pressed.
Luther frowned. He seemed to be looking through me, rather than at me, as if visualizing some long-buried memory. “No, I’m not disappointed. I’ve always believed it’s my destiny to serve the Crown, not to wear it.”
Again, I searched his face for the truth. I wondered how gullible I must be that I found myself believing him.
His palm curved into the small of my back to nudge me forward, his touch sending a hot knife of adrenaline slicing through my fatigue. I couldn’t miss how his hand clung to me long after I fell back in step beside him, only falling away as we turned into a hall crowded with guards.
“This is the Crown’s wing. The family wing can get quite lively with cousins coming and going at all hours. I presumed you’d prefer something with a bit more privacy.”