I had been giving up. It was only his Challenge that had refueled my anger and rekindled my fighting spirit. I almost laughed at the irony. He had indeed saved me—just not in the way he planned.
“I should have known,” I said, wincing. So many times I had doubted him, and each time, he had proven me wrong in spectacular fashion.
Never again.
Perhaps it was a vow I wouldn’t live long enough to keep, but if I did, I would never again doubt his loyalty. Though I would never feel worthy of it, of him, I could at least honor him by accepting it, once and for all.
“Luther,” I said slowly, placing my hand over his heart. “If I don’t survive—”
“No,” he growled.
“You will make a fine King. These people trust you. If you urge them toward peace, perhaps they will listen.”
“You are meant to lead us. I’ve seen it, the Blessed Mother showed me—”
“I don’t put my faith in gods and goddesses.” I smiled sadly. “But I do put it in you. You were born to be King.”
“Not without you. You are my Queen. The realm needs you. The mortals need you. Teller, Lily, Eleanor—they all need you.” His arms locked around me like he was bracing to stop fate from snatching me out of his grasp. “I need you, Diem.”
Deep within my heart, a long-overdue decision was finally put to rest. One door opened—the other locked forever.
“You have me, Luther,” I vowed. “All of me.”
I leaned back to let him see the full depth of that truth in my eyes. No more masks, no more armor—just brutal, bleeding honesty. My heart had been battered by grief and self-doubt, more mistakes than I could count, and regrets that might haunt me forever. It was an imperfect, wounded thing, covered in flaws, but it was strong. And it beat for him—the man who had walked beside me in the hopeless dark and burned for me in the fiery light.
I took his hand and set it over the scar on my collarbone, then laid my palm on the jagged line that slashed his cheek. I leaned in until my lips brushed his.
“I am yours, Luther Corbois. Scars and all.”
This time, there was no mistaking that I kissed him. It wasn’t the bloody lust of our first kiss, nor the sweet tenderness of our second. This was the crash of the surf upon the rocks, the crack of a lightning bolt down the trunk of a redwood, ripping me open to ignite me from within.
We were two ravenous souls, yearning to be lonely no more, and after months of denying ourselves this precious thing that we craved most, this was the breaking of our fast—and he devoured me. His mouth crushed against mine, his tongue seeking me out like a taste he could never get enough of.
The thin material of my suit made me feel all but naked in his arms as our hands roamed each other’s bodies. While Luther caressed each curve with a slow, deliberate focus, as if we had all the time in the world, my touch was urgent, desperate, needing to consume every bit of him while I still had the chance.
Remis’s amplified voice carried through the tent to announce that the fight was about to begin, shattering our hard-won happiness.
“It’s rude to kiss a man like that and then die, Your Majesty,” Luther panted, his breath hot against my swollen lips.
I hummed. “I guess that means I’ll have to live.”
He flashed me that brilliant, unguarded smile that was only for me. My heart squeezed at the idea that I might never see it again.
He laid a brief, adoring kiss on my lips, then another on my forehead. He sheathed his sword and took my hand, and we walked together out of the tent.
The second we were once again under the scrutiny of the crowd, his demeanor changed. His expression cooled, his posture straightened. He scanned the makeshift battlefield in assessment. “You can do this,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your power vastly exceeds his. One good hit is all you need.”
I nodded silently, shaking my limbs to warm up my muscles. I let my father’s lessons run at speed through my mind—how to dodge, how to hide, how to distract, how to survive.
He had spent years preparing me for this. I may not have been the Queen he expected, but I sure as hell could be the warrior he raised.
“Rhon is a prick, and he fights dirty. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Luther glanced at me. “You can still summon your shield?”
I focused on the strong grip of Luther’s hand in mine as I pulled my magic to my chest, just as he had taught me. With a good deal of effort and more time than I’d like, I managed to push it outward into a shimmering arc.
Luther studied it and gave a sharp, approving nod. “Don’t be afraid of your godhood. The magic doesn’t just answer to you, it’s part of you. Be proud of who you are, and embrace it.”
Remis’s voice rang out across the arena. “Your Majesty, Challenger, please take your places at opposite ends of the arena.”
Luther turned to me and took my chin, the slight tremor in his hand revealing what the fierce confidence of his voice didn’t. “You are fearless. You are strong. You do not cower in the faces of gods nor kings. You are fated for greater battles than this, so you do whatever it takes, and you fight like hell.”
“I will,” I vowed.
“Remember who you are, Diem Bellator.” He clasped the medallion at my neck. “But remember you are a phoenix, too. We do not fear the flames, for the hotter we burn, the higher we fly.”
He gave me a final, smoldering kiss, then whispered against my lips.
“Burn, my Queen. Glow so bright, the darkness trembles.”
Luther kept his eyes on me as he backed toward the stairs to the royal box. Just before he stepped off the arena floor, he threw out a whip of shadow toward the crowd. The dark rope instantly dissolved to mist—a reminder of the arena’s barrier and proof that no misfire of magic would escape and hurt an innocent.
My chest warmed at how deeply he understood my heart. With that simple act, he freed me from my fears and empowered me to let go completely.
Once he was safely outside the barrier, I strode to the end of the arena and pulled a small pouch from my belt. I reached inside and took a clump of the dark soil I had gathered from my family home, then sprinkled it across the ground as my father’s voice surfaced in my thoughts.
It’s just another battle. I’ve taught you everything you need to know.
“I can do this,” I said quietly. “I am Diem Bellator. Daughter of my mother Auralie. Chosen of my father Andrei. Protector of my brother Teller. Healer, warrior, and Queen.” My chin rose, my voice growing louder. “I can do this.”
At the opposite end, Rhon Ghislaine bounced on his toes in anticipation, the arc of his shield already glimmering around him. Two circles of ink-black spikes ringed his palms, sending visceral memories of the murder in the alley crashing into my mind.
“You have two deaths to answer for,” I yelled loudly.
He raised his arm, and his spikes doubled in size. “In a few minutes, I’ll make it three.”
I tucked the pouch away, then kneeled to run my hands through the sand, cupping a pinch of it into my palm. Rhon watched me with a suspicious frown.
“Rhon Ghislaine, are you ready?” Remis bellowed.
He cracked his knuckles and lowered his chin, his eyes fixed on me. “I’m ready.”