“It seems you and my son have become well acquainted. Word has already spread that he remains a fixture at your side.”
I kept my face completely still, offering no reaction.
“Though Aemonn might be a wiser choice,” Remis went on. “He is well-known to be loyal to House Corbois. And, if my brother Garath believed you to be susceptible to his son’s charms, he might be persuaded to assist you, as well.”
“Brilliant idea,” I said with a clap of my hands. “I’ll take your advice and ask Aemonn to be my escort.”
More like he already blackmailed me into it, but better to keep that to myself.
“I’m pleased we’re on the same page, Your Majesty. I desire only to serve you.”
I almost laughed out loud.
I was beginning to understand Remis and his motives. If he had any real convictions about mortals or half-mortals, or even the rebels, he would have pushed harder on the subject. Instead, he’d changed course at the first offer of a prestigious title.
I had a strong suspicion the only thing Remis Corbois truly cared about protecting was Remis Corbois. If I could use him as a shield against the other Houses by dangling power as a lure—that was a tool I could work with.
“I’ve asked Eleanor to be my advisor,” I added. “She will be joining us at the House Receptions.”
Remis balked. “Eleanor Corbois?”
“The one and only.”
He considered it for a moment, then slowly dipped his chin. “I suppose it does play into the image we are creating of a vapid Queen who cares nothing of important matters.”
The comment irked me on Eleanor’s behalf, but I held my tongue. Let him underestimate her—and me. After the Challenging, he would learn what we both were capable of.
I rose to my feet, suddenly anxious to leave. “This has been most enlightening.”
He mirrored the movement slowly. “There’s just one last thing, Your Majesty. Given the loyalty House Corbois is offering in support of your reign, it seems appropriate that we should formalize our arrangement.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
The shrewd gleam in his eye had my blood chilling in warning. “A bonded bargain, of course.” He flashed a broad smile. “We can keep the terms simple enough. You agree to claim House Corbois for the length of your reign, and in exchange, House Corbois will not raise a Challenge against you.”
My brows pinched into a deep crease. “And you won’t support or encourage any other House to raise a Challenge against me, either?”
He nodded and spread his hands wide. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I twisted and stretched the words to their limits, searching for trapdoors in the language. If I agreed to this, I would be bound to House Corbois for life—but nothing in the bargain stopped me from taking down the House from within. And if I refused, I might not live long enough to get the chance.
“Agreed,” I said finally.
“Splendid,” he announced, his smile spreading wider. He unfastened the clasps at his cuffs, then folded the fabric up to reveal his forearm. “The bargain requires two exchanges. First, an offering of blood to seal our oath.”
His fingers twitched, and a blade of pale blue light shimmered to life and sliced a shallow cut into his wrist. His eyes rose expectantly to me.
I flashed him a menacing smile and reached into my cleavage, where I’d stashed a small, thin knife. I might have been dressed like a songbird, but inside I was still a hawk.
“I prefer shedding blood the old fashioned way,” I muttered, wedging the sharp tip into my flesh.
“Then let us hope your enemies do, too. Magic can strike a killing blow so much faster than a blade.”
My eyes narrowed at the implicit threat. “What’s the second offering?”
“A symbol of what’s at stake.” He held out his arm with a haughty smile. “A drop of your magic for a drop of mine.”
I froze. I had never summoned a drop of my magic before—it had only ever come in a tidal wave of lethal destruction or nothing at all. I wasn’t entirely opposed to wiping Remis off the map, but doing so accidentally, and before the Challenging, wasn’t quite ideal.
“Is there a problem?” Remis asked, stretching his arm out further.
I gave a stiff shake of my head and clasped his forearm so our wounds aligned, the trickles of blood pressing to an angry smear. The godhood inside me stirred, agitated at Remis’s touch.
“I, Remis Corbois, bond my magic to this bargain of my own free will.” His eyes raised to me.
I pulled the words forward with effort, my throat thick with nerves. “I, Diem Bellator, bond my magic to this bargain of my own free will.”
A burst of warmth flared against my wrist, and my magic responded unbidden. An answering pulse of energy shot down my arm and flowed through the wound, drawn from my blood like a magnet. A cold tingling sensation circled my wrist and pulled tight.
Remis abruptly released me and flexed his fingers, but the feeling of his grip on my arm remained, an invisible shackle locked in place.
“It’s very important that we keep this bargain between us. Some in House Corbois would be willing to Challenge you just to cost me my magic.” His gaze darkened. “Especially those powerful enough to believe they can defeat you.”
I frowned, but I nodded in agreement. I didn’t need his pointed look to know there was only one Corbois who fit that description.
Remis beamed like he had won some critical advantage, leaving me with a nagging unease. “Let me be the first to formally welcome you to House Corbois.”
I rubbed my still-throbbing wrist. “Has my mysterious Corbois father been chosen?”
“Indeed.” He retrieved a book from a nearby shelf, then cracked it open and laid the pages before me, his finger tracing the ink of a handwritten family tree. “Harold Corbois. He was the last of his line.”
I skimmed the information below Harold’s name. He had no spouse or siblings, born just before the death of his parents, and deceased a month before my own birth.
Curiously convenient.
“Is there anything I should know about my dear departed sire?” I asked.
“I believe the less you know about him, Your Majesty, the better.”
I looked once more at the family records. The ink on Harold’s listing was thicker and bolder than the other faded entries on the page.
I wondered if dear Harold ever even existed at all.
“Well, then.” I gently tapped my finger over his scrawled name. “Rest in peace, Father.”
Chapter
Sixteen
The day of the funeral, a group of servants arrived to move me to the royal chambers despite all my protests to the contrary.
Though the Crown’s multi-room suite was filled with every luxury, I had no desire to return to the site of my bizarre encounter with the late King, and my current room’s close proximity to Luther gave me a sense of comfort I was trying not to think too much about. I was begrudgingly convinced to move when Luther promised me the King’s deathbed had been replaced—and when he mentioned the suite connected to the gryvern habitat.
Sorae was ecstatic to have me within reach. A row of wide archways in the spacious main parlor and the Crown’s bedchambers opened up to her perch, and she had wedged herself as far through them as her enormous body could fit. She purred contentedly, her scaled head resting on a bed of cushions I’d piled together as her ochre gaze watched me pace around the sprawling firelit room.