I grazed my hand down the length of her snout. “I don’t like it either, but you know the rules. If you come crashing in to save me, the Challenging won’t count. I have to do this alone… even if it kills me.”
Sorae let out a low growl, her breath growing blisteringly hot as azure fire glowed in her throat.
Because the Challenging was a modern creation, not part of the Forging spell that governed all of Emarion’s magic, it worked in direct conflict to Sorae’s obligation to protect my life at all costs. Past Lumnos Crowns had gone so far as to chain her to the ground to keep her from interfering.
I was relying on a stern talking-to.
“You know better than anyone how hard this past month has been for me, Sorae. I can’t go through all of this again. It has to end, one way or another.”
She whined and nuzzled against my shoulder, her wings slumping to her side in defeat. My arms slid around her neck as I pulled her close and laid my cheek against her dark iridescent scales.
“If I don’t come back—oh, stop growling already—I’ve treasured every second with you. Be good to the next Crown. Unless it’s a Hanoverre—then chomp off their feet.”
She snapped her jaws in agreement, but we both knew her promise was hollow. Even if the vilest, most evil heart in Emarion took the Crown, Sorae would be helplessly bound to their will.
I touched the golden chain at her neck. “I wish I could have found a way to free you from this. If I survive…” My eyes rose to hers, and a silent vow passed between us.
A warm flood of affection pulsed across the bond, and I knew it was not borne of obligation, but true feeling. Sorae had little free will in this world, but she had chosen to care for me. I prayed that I could do enough to deserve it.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead and gave one last stroke over the soft grey down of her wings, then turned away before she could see the emotion pooling in my eyes.
“Stay,” I commanded for perhaps the final time.
I took a few steadying breaths and waited for the trembling in my hands to fade away, then strode out of my bedchamber into the main salon and flashed a dazzling, confident smile.
The others jumped to their feet at my arrival, each of them giving off varying levels of nerves. Alixe, as usual, was the picture of self-control. Her calm demeanor showed no sign that today was different from any other day. Taran and Eleanor followed next with their usual bubbly humor, though each laugh was a little too short, each smile a little too strained.
Lily was firmly camped at the other end of the spectrum. She paced the room while wringing her hands, tears ever-present on her lashes. Though I felt guilty at her suffering, I was quietly grateful to see how Teller’s doting attempts to soothe her distracted him from his own anxiety.
On the surface, Luther was playing his role as the unflappable Prince to perfection. His posture was stiff and formal, his words clipped, when he even spoke at all. His features might as well have been engraved in marble for all they revealed.
It was his eyes, as usual, that gave him away. They flickered like a candle caught in a breeze, the pale blue light in them fighting to stay ablaze. His focus, usually deliberate and lingering, darted madly around the room, between the others, over my body, across my face. Even his aura seemed restless, curling protectively around my limbs, then seizing back, only to creep forward again and again.
I held out my arms and looked at Alixe and Eleanor. “I have to admit, you two outdid yourselves.”
“It’s perfect,” Alixe said with a rare grin.
Eleanor rushed to my side to run her hand along my arm. “Blessed Kindred, you look like a warrior goddess.”
The two women had collaborated to design a one-of-a-kind full-body suit of fighting leathers. Though the rules of the Challenging forbid any hard armor or weapons, the suit had flexible material and soft padding that would let me move quickly and dodge attacks with ease.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and my cheeks turned bright pink. The skintight outfit, sleek black and intimidating as hell, revealed every dip and curve of my body—which, Alixe had assured me, was its own kind of defense. I had braided my hair in a circle atop my head to show off the sprawling depiction of Sorae embroidered across my back. Her wings curved around my arms while a plume of flame encircled my neck, all in a shimmering smoke-grey thread that matched my eyes.
“I love it,” Taran declared. “Very sexy, Queenie. When Remis asks who wants to come for you, he better clarify he means fighting or you’ll have half the realm lined up.” Luther let out a low grunt, and Taran grinned, smacking his cousin in the chest. “See? Lu loves it, too.”
I caught Luther’s intense gaze, and the flush on my cheeks deepened.
“Well, Prince?” I teased. “Do you like it?”
His eyes roamed downward, but didn’t quite make it past my lips. “Beautiful,” he said quietly.
Heat flooded through me. I cleared my throat and bounded for the door. “Let’s get on with it, then. I have very important dinner plans I don’t want to miss.”
My entourage dutifully followed, though yesterday’s cheery spirit had been replaced by a hushed anticipation, a whisper of hope that did not dare grow too loud for fear of rousing fate.
My steps faltered once I reached the grand foyer. In two long parallel lines leading down the curved staircase and along the path to the front gate, the members of the Royal Guard stood at attention, each holding a flaming torch in one hand, the other pressed in a fist to their chests.
“A reminder,” Luther murmured in my ear from behind me. “That, Challenged or Unchallenged, you are our Queen.”
The calm indifference I’d been fighting so hard all morning to maintain threatened to crumble and give way.
“Aemonn allowed this?” I asked.
“We’ll find out when he shows up and sees it happening,” Taran answered.
The others held back as I descended the steps. I rolled my shoulders back and set my jaw, determined not to let my growing firestorm of emotions burn through my fierce exterior.
The rest of House Corbois had gathered outside in a swarm of horses and fanfare. Today, the House would join me on the long trek to the arena in a symbolic show of support—and a warning, that a Challenge against me was a Challenge against all of House Corbois.
It was that threat I now clung to against all odds. However poorly the House Receptions had gone, however far the rumors of my lack of magic had spread, House Corbois remained a formidable influence. Risking its wrath was a gamble, especially with Luther, who remained the heir presumptive, standing by my side. If the other Houses feared that killing me would only bring the fury of the next King down on their heads—then perhaps, just perhaps, I might make it through today unscathed.
“Your horse is this way, Your Majesty,” Luther said. His hand found its home on my back as he led me to a stunning dark grey mare with a dappled coat and a glossy white mane pulled into a thick plait. A ring of shouting guards struggled to keep her still, but the harder they fought to restrain her, the more she demanded her liberation, pawing at the ground and rearing her head in protest.
“She reminded me of you,” Luther said dryly.
I raised a brow. “Her coloring or her temperament?”