Teller crushed me in his arms, then pulled back and gawked. “Are you wearing a dress?”
I smirked and flipped my hair theatrically over my shoulder. “Madness, isn’t it? This was all they had.”
“I think she looks beautiful,” Lily offered, watching us with soft eyes and a sweet smile. “She looks like a Queen.”
“You do,” he agreed. He looked me over with wonder. “You look like… like…”
“Say something nice, or I’ll sic my gryvern on you.”
His eyes flew open. “Gods, that’s right—you control the Lumnos gryvern now.”
“Sorae’s incredible, you’re going to love her.” I gasped. “And wait until you see the library, it’s enormous. You’re never going to want to leave.”
He blinked at me and raked a hand across his mouth, then took a step back and looked me over again. “You’re smiling.”
The last time I’d seen him, I was sobbing in his arms, begging for his help to find a way out. I reached inward and fumbled around for the shattered part of my soul that had wanted to give this all up and run back to my quiet, forgettable life, but the pieces were no longer where I’d left them.
“Did you find anything useful in your books?” I asked cautiously.
“Not yet. They all say the same thing—the Crown only passes through death. I’ll keep looking, though.”
“Yes—keep looking.” I wasn’t sure what to do with my expression, feeling a little ashamed that his answer hadn’t bothered me in the slightest.
“How did you end up in the palace?” he asked. “I thought you were going to some lodge to hide.”
Lily flinched. Her brows crowded together as she studied the floor. I could almost hear her guilty heart thumping away in her ribcage as she waited for me to reveal her betrayal.
“I decided to come to the palace and tell them,” I said instead. “The gryvern would have found me anyway, so there was no use in hiding.”
Lily’s look of surprise, then gratitude, was bright enough to light the realm.
I quickly recounted my introduction to House Corbois, setting out the proposal Luther and Remis had made. I could see the cogs of Teller’s clever mind churning as he evaluated my possible moves.
“It’s a smart offer,” he said, “for you and for them. Especially now, before the Challenging.”
“How does the Challenging work? Do I have to fight every person in Lumnos who thinks I’m not good enough?”
“No, thank the gods. If more than one House raises a Challenge, the Regent selects the strongest Challenger to fight. If you win, then you can be coronated.”
I shrugged. “That’s not so bad. Father trained us well. I can take on one Descended.”
Teller gave me a grave look. “It’s a battle of magic only, D. No weapons allowed.”
My stomach dropped. “Is there any possibility no one Challenges me?”
Lily jumped in. “Oh, yes! Especially if they believe you’re a Corbois. The other Houses won’t want to risk making an enemy of us.”
This proposition with Remis and Luther might be worth considering after all.
I frowned and rubbed my temples. The effort of thinking amid the voice’s endless drone—Fight. Fight. Fight.—had given birth to a brain-splitting headache.
“Diem,” Teller said slowly. “When are you going to tell everyone back at home?”
I ignored his question. “One of the cousins mentioned an Ascension Ball—do you know anything about that?”
“A ball?” Lily squealed.
Teller smiled at her happy outburst, the affection in his eyes reminding me so much of the way Henri sometimes looked at me. A knot tightened in my gut.
“It’s your presentation to the court,” he explained. “It’s the official beginning of the Period of Challenging.”
“Is there some kind of test at this ball, too?”
“The books didn’t mention one.” We both glanced at Lily, who offered a shrug in return.
A new voice, low and booming, reverberated through the cavernous chamber.
“Have you not realized that everything you do between now and the Coronation is a test?”
Teller froze.
Lily gasped.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.
He spoke again. “The next time you organize a secret meeting in the dungeon, little sister, try to remember to close the door behind you.”
Lily chewed on her lip and gazed at the floor. Teller started to comfort her, then glanced nervously toward the stairs and pulled back.
“Go away, Luther,” I grumbled.
“Your Majesty,” he said coolly. “There are many people looking for you. What a blessing none of them thought to search this far downstairs.”
His patronizing tone was like waving a torch near a barrel of kerosene. The voice was no longer chanting—it was screaming.
In the distance, I sensed Sorae pacing her perch and screeching wildly.
“Calm down,” I mouthed, telling myself I was talking to the gryvern and not my own spiraling temper. “I’m fine. There’s no danger.”
Fight.
The voice, apparently, felt otherwise.
“What do you want?” I snapped at Luther.
“I believe you and I have some matters to discuss.”
I glared. “Oh, there are quite a few things I wish to discuss with you.”
When I looked at him now, all I saw was blood. The blood of so many children, slaughtered before their lives had even begun.
Luther’s emotionless eyes slid to my brother. “Is she normally like this?”
Teller raised an eyebrow. “You mean irrationally angry at everything and everyone?”
Luther nodded.
“Yes.”
Fight.
I practically snarled.
Teller shot me an apologetic look. “But she wasn’t always. Only recently. Only since…” His voice trailed off, the answer coming through our shared stare. Since she stopped taking the flameroot.
My blood was boiling. No, it had long passed boiling—it had been left to stew over a roaring fire and was now curling into steam from within. How dare they discuss me as if I wasn’t right here in front of them?
Fight.
I wanted to pummel them. I wanted to tear them to the ground. I wanted to drag my nails across their skin. I wanted to— “You need to use your magic,” Luther said.
I squinted, fighting to focus on anything but my hunger for violence. “What?”
“The godhood—that’s what we call the source of our magic—it hates being trapped in a physical body. Being leashed for too long without release makes it angry. The longer you hold it in, the angrier it gets.”
“You describe it like it’s a living thing.”
“In some ways, it is. Don’t you hear it talking to you?”
Fight. Fight.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Between the dull throb of pain in my forehead and the vengeful chorus in my thoughts, I could barely follow the conversation.
Five minutes. I just needed five gods-damned minutes of peace and quiet.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
“Shut up,” I seethed under my breath.
Luther’s lips curved smugly at being proven right. “What’s happening to you is normal. Descended who are new to their magic are often overcome with anger because they don’t yet know how to soothe their godhood.”