His ironclad wall reappeared a beat later, and his features wiped away to his trademark blank slate. As he guided me to the family’s general seating, his hand moved to my back, causing his palm to slide under my hair and skim my exposed skin.
The intimate contact took us both by surprise, at least if his sharp inhale was any indication. I nearly tripped on the long hem of my gown, and his other hand shot out and gripped my hand. Warmth flooded my body as he leaned me against his side to hold me steady.
“I’m off to a brilliant start,” I joked, my voice a little hoarse.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. With a tender press at my back, he led me to a row of tufted settees where Taran sat with an empty space beside him. Luther glanced at him and made a jerking motion with his chin.
Taran groaned. “Listen, Your Majesty, I like you and all, but…” He inclined his head to the side, where the only other open seat was beside his brother Aemonn. “Please don’t make me do it.”
“Not in the mood for family bonding?” I teased.
He smiled wickedly. “I’d rather bond with you. In private.”
“Taran,” Luther warned.
I halted him with a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of causing any family drama,” I purred, which Taran answered with a snort. “I’ll sit with Aemonn.”
I started to leave. Luther’s hand snaked around my hip, holding me in place.
“We’ll make room,” he said quickly. “You’re small, and I’ll be at the podium for half the ceremony as it is.”
I’d never been called small in my life—in the mortal world I was always too tall, too covered in muscles and curves—but as I nestled between the two hulking male demigods that were Luther and Taran, I felt almost petite.
The funeral ceremony began as Remis and Garath took turns droning on at a raised podium at the edge of the dais about the King’s legacy. A device provided by the technologically advanced realm of Sophos amplified their voices through the arena, though the crowd paid them little attention. Conversation hummed at a dull roar, and even in the royal box, the Corbois continued to laugh and mingle freely.
I tried to focus, though as time wore on, I began to squirm—as much as I could between the trunk-like thighs and brawny arms of the two men shoved against me.
Taran leaned back and sprawled his arm across the top of the settee to give me some breathing room. “So Your Majesty, how does it feel to be sandwiched between two handsome, single Corbois Princes?”
“Taran,” Luther warned, shooting him a look.
Taran ignored him. “A lot of women would pay good money for that, you know. Though there would be far less clothing involved. And less of a crowd.” He leaned in close to me. “Unless having an audience is your thing.”
“Show some respect,” Luther barked. “She’s your Queen.”
Taran gave an exaggerated eyeroll. “We get someone young and interesting as the Crown, and you’re not going to let me tease her even a little bit? Besides, she likes it.” Taran nudged my leg with his knee. “You like it, right?”
Luther sighed. “Just say the word and I’ll hang him upside down from the rafters.”
“Not again,” Taran moaned.
I laughed and settled back into the cushions. “If Taran wants to boast that he can’t get a woman in bed unless there’s money involved, far be it for me to stop him.”
A half-smile broke through Luther’s facade, and Taran roared with laughter. His arm moved to my shoulders. “Sorry Lu, you’re out as my favorite cousin. I think I’m in love with this one.”
“Sorry Lu,” I echoed sweetly.
“This was a bad idea,” Luther muttered. “You two becoming friends is my worst nightmare.”
“That’s incentive enough for me.” I cuddled into Taran’s side and pat my hand playfully on his upper thigh. “Taran, you can call me Diem.”
Luther’s eyes darted to the gesture. The levity on his face faded. “May I remind you both we are in front of a very large crowd, and every one of them is watching this exchange.”
Crimson rushed to my cheeks. I pulled my hands into my lap and sat stiffly upright.
“No need to ruin our fun just because you’re jealous, cousin,” Taran said.
“I’m not jealous,” Luther ground out, the words sounding so insincere that I looked at him in surprise. “And you shouldn’t lie to your Queen. Everyone knows your real favorite cousin is Eleanor.”
I suddenly remembered Eleanor’s anguished expression when I first arrived. I whipped around to search for her in the gallery, only to find her seated behind me, her eyes red and puffy, her lips tightly pursed.
I reached for her hand. “Eleanor, what’s wrong?”
Her fingers trembled in mine. “The dress… I should have warned you.” She looked down, her voice falling to a whisper. “Someone finally gave me a chance, and I let them down.”
I squeezed her hand. “It’s fine. It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not,” she said, wincing. “We wear red to honor our Kindred blood, and we wear something that reflects light to represent the glow of the afterlife where souls rest if they are found worthy. Wearing black, it… it…”
“It will be seen as disrespectful to the Kindred and a suggestion that you believe the King’s soul will be found unworthy,” Luther finished for her. His tone had gone cold, and he glowered at Eleanor with reproach.
I snorted. “Had I known that, I definitely would have worn this dr—”
Luther’s glare shot to me, and my mouth snapped shut.
“It can’t be that bad,” I argued. “I saw others wearing black.”
“Those were the mortal guests,” he said. “They aren’t held to the same standards. But if people believe you’re wearing black as a show of loyalty to them…”
I recalled Remis’s warning that fear over my connection to the mortals was my greatest risk of provoking a Challenge.
“Alright, it’s pretty bad,” I admitted.
Eleanor’s head sank. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I’ll tell everyone it was me who chose the dress, not you, and I’ll step down as your advisor.”
“You made her your advisor?” Aemonn spoke up from the adjoining settee.
“I knew he was eavesdropping,” Taran grumbled.
“Eleanor is my advisor on matters of court and culture,” I answered to Aemonn.
His eyes narrowed on his distraught cousin, looking as if he was assessing her as a new threat.
“Court and culture?” Taran repeated in a mocking voice.
My brows rose. “Do you have some thoughts, cousin Taran?”
“None that I’m going to say out loud.”
I patted him lightly on the cheek. “You’re smarter than you look.”
Taran clasped my hand between his and smiled even wider. “Oh, I’m definitely in love.”
I laughed and turned back to face Eleanor. “First of all, I told you to call me Diem. We’re friends, remember?” I offered an encouraging smile. “And you absolutely will not take the blame.”