I reached for his fingers, wanting to feel the familiar brush of his skin one last time, and his hand jerked away. He didn’t bother to look back as he followed the waiting guard around the corner and out of sight.
I stared down the hall. I could still feel his touch on my thighs, my lips still swollen from his kiss. But now, without the warmth of him against me, I felt…
Confused. Unsure.
The weight of Luther’s attention wasn’t helping. I didn’t dare look to see what judgment awaited me there.
“Whatever you’re thinking, keep it to yourself,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“You need to hear it.”
“My love life is none of your concern.”
“You are the Queen of Lumnos. Your love life is the entire realm’s concern.”
My jaw clenched so tightly my teeth creaked in protest.
“And you made it my concern when you—”
“I didn’t kiss you,” I hissed, whirling to face him, “you kissed me. Maybe I didn’t push you off as quickly as I should have, but that—”
“—wasn’t what I was going to say,” he said curtly. “You made it my business when you asked me to keep Aemonn silent about Henri.”
My face flushed.
“But rest assured, my Queen, when I do kiss you, there will be no confusion. You will know that I have claimed you—and I won’t have any desire to deny it.”
All of me flushed.
I swallowed. I hadn’t missed his choice of words. Not if I kiss you. Not in the rare and unlikely event I kiss you.
When I kiss you.
I looked away, unable to withstand the pale blue fire in Luther’s gaze. “Did Aemonn agree to stay quiet then?”
“For a price.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “What does he want?”
“You’ll bring him as your escort to the Ascension Ball. You’ll give him the first dance and stay at his side throughout the evening.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t like it either, but it’s a simple enough req—”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—I can’t.”
Luther stilled. “Why?”
I cowered in the silence as long as I could bear, dreading the spring trap my next words would invariably trigger.
“I’ve accepted Henri’s marriage proposal. He’ll be escorting me as my betrothed.” I fidgeted with a dainty pearl bracelet Eleanor had insisted I wear. “I’m well aware how much you all despise mortals, but this choice is mine to make, Queen or not.”
Neither of us moved or spoke for several torturous, uncomfortable moments. Luther’s fists clenched and loosened at his sides. The air around him buzzed with angry magic, barely contained. His throat strained to hold back a deluge of disapproval.
I groaned. “Fine. Just say it.”
“Not here.”
Without warning, his hand closed around mine, his grip startlingly gentle despite his fury. He led me down the hallway to where our rooms sat in parallel. His palm pressed at the hollow of my back and nudged me to the right, away from my guards and into his private chambers.
He barked a command at the two men stationed at my chamber doors to reposition themselves at the far ends of the corridor. The door closed, followed by the metallic clink of a lock sliding into place.
Luther cast me a wary glance. “Wait here.”
I watched him stalk into a side antechamber, then turned to take in the surrounding space. I drew in a sharp breath—I’d been here before. I’d only passed through it briefly, but I recognized the room Luther had disappeared into as the bedroom I’d awoken in the morning after the armory attack.
Luther’s bedroom.
My naked body soaking in his bathtub.
My hand in his as I lay tucked between his sheets.
I fought to cage my wild thoughts as I took a closer look at the room. It was lightly appointed, with none of the gilded, ornamental touches that embellished most of the palace’s rooms, but despite its simplicity, the chamber had a warmth to it, a personalized comfort all its own.
Against one wall, a sturdy wooden desk was topped with half-written letters, its carved sides depicting the Kindred and their mortal lovers. Lumnos was featured at the center, locked in an embrace with the man she’d given up everything to follow into eternal night.
A sitting area with cozy leather armchairs was bordered by tall shelves of old books and small oil paintings on tiny easels. A framed charcoal sketch of Lily sat atop a mahogany liquor cabinet with bottles in varying shades of brown. A pair of muddy boots lay on their side in a corner, and a jacket lay draped across a footrest.
In short, it felt like a home.
The room smelled so strongly of his woodsy, masculine musk. The scent transported me against my will to the memory of our shared ride on horseback—his broad hands splayed low on my stomach, his breath hot on my skin.
I swore under my breath at the disloyal thoughts. My body was all too willing to remind me that my interrupted tryst with Henri had left me lonely and wanting.
Flickering candlelight drew my attention to a small alcove across the room. Tucked into an arched niche sat a glossy marble bust of Lumnos, recognizable by the crown atop her head—a twin to the one I currently wore. The bust was surrounded by candles, aged flowers, and smooth, colorful stones.
Luther’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the room and stopped behind me.
“I didn’t realize you were so devout,” I said.
He didn’t answer for long enough that I turned to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the shrine, his face a portrait of reverence.
“Blessed Mother Lumnos spared me from death when I was very young. I vowed to give my life in service to her, to protect her realm and its people. I used to believe…” His eyes moved to mine, and just as before, he appeared to be looking through me, as if seeing something far beyond my gaze.
He stopped and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced at the item in his hands before offering it to me. “Here.”
I took the book—small, barely larger than my palm, and bound in rich cognac leather. The paper inside was thin and crinkled with tiny nicks from being thumbed through many times over.
“What is this?” I asked as I opened it.
Luther said nothing.
Each page contained a rough sketch of a child’s face, along with a list of names and a description.
Emmaline, newborn, daughter to father Piotr of House Benette and mortal mother Harriet Bilkings. Ice blue eyes, straight blonde hair, fair skin. Daughter and mother delivered safely to Meros.
Diedrick, eight months, son to mortal father Carell Jenks and mother Wilmora of House Althiena. Royal blue eyes, thick red hair, birthmark on left elbow. Father and son delivered safely to Umbros.
Zalaric, seven years, son to father Jean of House Hanoverre and mortal mother Penna Greystoll. Navy eyes with light specks, black curly hair, dark brown skin. Mother executed. Son delivered safely to Umbros.
There were pages and pages of them. Most were newborns, but a few were older—adolescents mixed with the rare teenager, and one that had passed into adulthood.
The thump of my heart grew deafening in my ears.
At the end of the book, a tattered scarlet ribbon separated a new section. At first glance, the contents appeared the same—faces, names, descriptions—but each was marked with a thick red X across the page. And each was missing the final line: delivered safely.