Luther shot him a quick look, and Taran’s azure eyes conveyed something that looked a lot like betrayal.
Somehow I had stumbled into a dark, perilous cave of family secrets. I would have killed to see Eleanor’s reaction, but I didn’t dare move. I caught sight of Aemonn from the corner of my eye. His focus was fixed on my upper thigh, where Luther’s fingers still dug into my flesh.
Garath laughed harshly. “Why should you raise a fist, dear nephew, when you seem content to let the Challenging do the work for you? Bringing her here in a black dress, letting her laugh and smile while the realm mourns—your counsel will have her facing a line of Challengers stretching all the way to Fortos. I underestimated your ambition.”
Luther’s fingers tightened around my thigh. I had a feeling I was about to watch a very different type of challenging go down right here in the royal box.
I clawed myself together and stood, pulling out of Luther’s grasp. “The only person who dressed me and let me laugh and smile is me,” I said coolly. “Though I will be certain to keep your fascinating observations in mind when I select my new Wardens.”
“If that day in fact arrives,” he muttered.
“Oh, it will.” I smiled brightly and took a few steps closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “And when it does, you can beg for whatever scraps I give you, just like you did with Ulther.”
Garath’s answering rage could have razed a mountain. “You loud-mouthed, uppity little—”
“Careful, Uncle,” Luther rumbled. “She is Queen, and I am still Keeper of the Laws. Executions are my specialty.”
Garath’s fingers twitched at his sides. He kept scowling, and I kept smiling, both expressions dripping with equal hatred. His eyes narrowed, then he abruptly spun on his heel and stalked back to his chair.
I slammed back into my seat and bit down hard to hold back the deluge of words that threatened to come flooding out. No one in the gallery spoke, everyone too spellbound by the spectacle that had just occurred.
“Sit back,” Luther said, quietly but firmly.
Against my stubborn nature, I obeyed.
“Stop glaring. Don’t let them know he got to you.”
“He didn’t,” I snapped—but again, I obeyed.
He stretched out his legs, looking utterly at ease, and propped his arm on the seat back behind me. As he did, he brushed the hair away from my shoulder and stroked a thumb along my neck, the gesture so brief it might have been accidental.
Though his stony stare remained locked dead ahead, his head inclined slightly to me. “Garath is dangerous,” he whispered. “It’s one thing for me to provoke him. He won’t strike at me without my father’s blessing. But for you…”
“I’m not afraid of Garath,” I gritted out. “He might be dangerous, but I’m gods-damned fatal.”
For all my boasting, I wasn’t sure even I believed those words. I balled my hands in my lap and tried to ignore the sinking feeling that I’d just made a very grave mistake.
Chapter
Eighteen
“What was that about?” Eleanor hissed in my ear the second Luther stepped away for yet another part of the ceremony, which I was confident was now entering its second century.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said as I whipped around to face her.
She shook her head, looking amused. “I thought we were about to get two funerals in one.”
“What Luther said about Garath—what did he mean?”
Eleanor shot a nervous glance at Taran, her voice hushing. “When his sons were young, they would often show up at school with lashes or burns. Very often. Rumor is the King spoke with Garath and made it stop, although…” She chewed on her lip. “That was when their healing abilities began, so no one knew for sure.”
I eyed Aemonn and Taran. Both were staring anywhere but their father, looking miserable and exposed.
My heart cracked open for them. I had seen in my patients how the wounds of abuse could linger on a soul long after the violence itself had ended.
My attention drifted to their mother, Freah. When I first met her, I thought her to be Garath’s equally cold, equally cruel accomplice. Now, as she gazed blankly ahead, her face gaunt and hard as stone, she seemed more like his shadow.
“What about Freah?” I whispered to Eleanor.
“She would never say a word against Garath. She’s either completely loyal to him or completely afraid of him.”
Or both, I thought.
“Enough about Garath,” Eleanor said. “What’s going on between you and Luther?”
“Nothing,” I blurted out, my voice going shrill. “Why would you even think that?”
“Diem.” She nudged me with her arm. “There isn’t a man with more self-control in the nine realms, but he can’t keep his hands off you. He was about to take Garath’s head off for insulting you. And you were getting jealous over Iléana—”
“I was not jealous!”
“—and he keeps smiling at you. He doesn’t smile at anyone except Taran and Lily.” She shot me a mischievous look. “And those are not the smiles he gives Taran and Lily.”
I felt too hot and laid bare and excruciatingly confused. I’d assumed these moments he and I had been trading were nothing more than glimpses of the real Luther beneath his brusque exterior. I’d thought I was finally seeing a side of him his friends and family had already seen.
It hadn’t occurred to me it might be a side of him no one had seen.
“He’s just trying to flatter me to get an advisor role,” I deflected. “He realized I like nice people, so now he’s pretending to be one.”
“Uh huh.” The knowing gleam in her eyes said she wasn’t buying it.
“Besides…” I paused, yanking her closer and lowering my voice. “I’m already spoken for.”
Her brows shot skyward, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? Who?” She peered down the row. “Aemonn? Blessed Kindred, he moves fast.”
“Eleanor, I’ve been here a week. I’m not engaged to one of your cousins.”
“Engaged?” she squeaked. “We’re going to have a King Consort?” Her head cocked. “Wait, if it’s not someone from here, then they must be—oh… Oh.”
“I know it’s unusual,” I rushed out, seeing her wide-eyed look of alarm. “Please don’t say anything. I’m still figuring it all out.”
“Oh, of course. I, um, yes, that’s…” She shifted in her chair. “Well, I’m here if you want to, uh, talk it through.”
She was making every effort to be supportive, but the horror on her face said it all. Eleanor might be my only true ally outside of Mortal City, and if this was how she reacted…
Luther was right. The Descended were never going to willingly accept a mortal as King Consort.
I reminded myself that I didn’t care. I would not let these people and their prejudices dictate who was worthy to stand by my side. Mortal or Descended, Queen or not, my heart was mine alone to give.
But… but.
“Diem, they’re waiting for you.”