Her gaze locked on me—on the spot above my head. “Diem said I could come for dinner, and I thought…” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Is—is it real? Are you…？”
Lily’s unexpected arrival snapped me out of my stupor. I waded back to the shore, trying to find the words to tell her that no, this couldn’t be real, not for a thousand different reasons, but the words wouldn’t come. At the moment, real was too complicated a concept.
“This means our King is dead,” Lily murmured. She sank to her knees and placed a fist over her heart. “Long live our Queen.”
“Please, don’t,” I protested, attempting to wring the liquid from my waterlogged clothes. “I’m not your Queen.”
Teller’s eyes darted between us. Slowly, he began to drop to his knees. “Long live—”
“Oh stop it,” I hissed and grabbed his arm, hauling him back to his feet. “Not you, too.”
Lily lowered her head. “Blessed Mother Lumnos has chosen you.”
“Then she made a mistake. I can’t be the—will you please stand up?—I can’t be the Queen. I’m only a mortal.”
Growing up in the poor village of Mortal City, I’d spent my life isolated from the luxurious world of the Descended, the offspring of nine sibling gods and goddesses known as the Kindred, who long ago colonized our mortal home. I knew very little of the rules of royalty, but I did know this much: when a monarch died, their throne passed to the most powerful Descended. Only those with the blood of Lumnos flowing in their veins had ever worn her Crown.
Until now.
Lily rose, her face still aglow with reverence. “Perhaps she decided it’s time for a mortal to reign.”
“Has that ever happened before?” I asked.
She shook her head. “None of the nine realms has ever had a mortal Crown. But they say Blessed Mother Lumnos can see what lies in the future. Maybe she believes a change is needed.”
“Or maybe you’re not mortal,” Teller said quietly.
My focus shot to my brother. “How can you say that? Do I look like a Descended to you?”
He ran a hand down the back of his neck and scanned me from head to toe as if seeing me for the very first time. “You’re tall, like they are. You’ve always been strong. I haven’t seen you bleed from a wound since…” He stiffened. “Since your visions started.”
“Of course you have,” I argued, though as my thoughts tumbled through a web of memories, I couldn’t seem to think of one, either.
Only once—weeks ago, at the royal palace, when a Descended guard had nicked my throat with his blade. But that knife had been Fortosian steel, one of the only substances that could pierce Descended flesh. Their nearly impenetrable skin, along with quick healing and the power to wield magic, manifested in Descended children at puberty—the same time my visions began.
My last confrontation with Prince Luther played in my mind, his striking blue-grey eyes watching me through the bloody handprints I’d left across his skin.
I know you feel my power, he’d taunted. Because I can feel yours, too. You’re no more mortal than I am.
No. No, no, no, no.
I had to be a mortal. My mother would know if the man who sired me had been Descended, and she would never keep that from me.
Would she?
“What about your eyes?” Lily asked, squinting as she looked closer for the telltale blue that would mark me as a Lumnos Descended, as opposed to the brown of the mortals. “I’ve never noticed before. Are they…？”
“Grey,” I answered. “Not like the mortals or the Descended. But I was born with brown eyes, they changed when I—”
Lily’s gasp cut me off. “Grey? Your eyes are grey?”
“Why? Does that mean something?”
“Show me,” she insisted.
My shoulders tensed. I had long ago learned to be wary of the attention my unusual eye color attracted. Children of mixed mortal-Descended heritage were forbidden by law, and any blue-eyed child who couldn’t prove pure-blooded lineage was condemned to execution if they were found.
A strong reason for your mother to lie about what you are, my conscience reminded me.
Lily let out a strangled cry as she took in my smoky irises. She staggered back, then turned as if to flee. “I have to go. I have to tell Luther about this. He’s been—”
“No!” I ran forward and clutched her shoulders. “Lily, you cannot tell your brother. You have to promise me you won’t say a word.”
“You don’t understand, Luther can help you. He saw—”
“I don’t want his help,” I snapped, a little too harshly. I regretted the hurt that flickered across her face, but this was one area where Lily and I would never see eye to eye.
Her brother had been the King’s heir apparent, groomed to take the throne from a young age. His magic was so infamously strong, no one had even been considered a close second. Luther’s name had been all but engraved on the Crown.
And considering that only hours ago, I’d sliced a blade into his throat as we’d threatened each other’s lives—among other deeply unsettling exchanges—I wasn’t in any rush to tell him it now belonged to me.
“He cannot know about this,” I said. “No one can. Not yet, at least. Please Lily, I’m begging you.”
“But you’re our Queen,” she whispered, looking pained.
I gripped her tighter. “If I’m your Queen, then you have to obey me, correct? You must do as I command?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Then I command you as your Queen—tell no one about this. Especially Prince Luther.”
She let out a whimper as she realized she was caught.
“Everyone’s going to know the moment they take one look at you,” Teller said, pointing to the Crown.
“There must be a way to conceal it or take it off.” I looked at Lily hopefully. “Right?”
“King Ulther only wore it for special occasions,” she said, then hesitated. “But perhaps it can’t be removed until you complete the Rite.”
“She means the Rite of Coronation. It’s a ritual held on Coeur?le,” he explained, pointing across the Sacred Sea toward the forbidden island at its center. I’d never been more grateful that my brother was the one mortal invited to attend Lumnos’s prestigious Descended school, making him well versed in their arcane traditions.
“When is that?” I asked.
“After the Period of Challenging. In thirty days, any Descended in the realm can Challenge the new Crown, if they believe that person to be…” He shot me a sympathetic look. “…unworthy to wear it.”
“Good.” I gave a short laugh as tightly wound tension eased from my bones. “Perfect, actually. Luther can Challenge me. Gods, I’ll just give it to him. Let them all find me unworthy, for all I care.”
Teller and Lily shared a somber glance.
“It’s not that simple,” he said slowly. “If someone invokes the Challenging, they must duel until either the Crown or the Challenger is killed.” Teller looked ill. “It’s a fight to the death, D.”