I snapped out of my wandering thoughts. My heart skipped a beat—everyone in the royal box was watching me.
Taran gently nudged my side. “Go,” he urged.
I shot him a panicked look. “Go where?”
“They announced that you would light the funeral pyre.” His head inclined to the front of the dais, where Remis was looking at me, hand extended.
I rose unsteadily with a thick swallow. Luther hadn’t mentioned this part in his preview. I searched for him, finding him standing near the podium wearing a troubled expression that did nothing to ease my nerves.
“Your Majesty?” Remis called out, stretching his hand further.
Slowly, I walked toward him and set my palm in his. My wrist throbbed at the reminder of our bonded bargain, its significance feeling far heavier after hearing the story of Ulther’s mate.
“What is this?” I asked. “I thought my part was complete.”
Garath stepped up to my other side. “Lighting the King’s pyre is the highest honor. As Ulther’s older brother, the task was mine to take, but…” He gave me a serpentine smile. “Consider it a gift, from me to my new Queen.”
Alarm bells blared in my head. The task sounded easy enough, but something in the smugness of his voice sent a chill skittering down my neck.
Perhaps he only wanted to put my black dress on display again to make a spectacle of my ignorance. If that was the case, I was determined to show him that it would take a lot more than that to break my spirit.
I pulled my shoulders back and beamed at him. “How very thoughtful, Uncle,” I crooned, taking a little too much pleasure in how his teeth clenched at the word. “I assure you, I’ll find a way to repay the favor.”
Remis led me down the steps to the arena floor, Garath and Luther following at our backs. We circled the pyre halfway until we were facing the royal box. I glanced around for a torch or some other bit of fire to cast the initial flame but found nothing. I frowned at Remis. “What am I to use to light the pyre?”
“Your magic, Your Majesty.”
I stiffened. “My magic?”
“There’s dry kindling all around the pyre. A spark of light should set it alight easily enough.”
My breathing sped up. “I don’t—I mean, I… can’t I use a normal flame?” I stammered.
“My son led me to believe you have both light and shadow magic,” Remis said, frowning.
“She does,” Luther cut in. His eyes flared wide with some attempt to convey a silent message, but my mind was too panicked to decipher it.
“Yes, my nephew simply raved about your magnificent power,” Garath purred, delighted at my distress. “He gave us quite a detailed description, but we’re all eager to witness such an impressive display for ourselves.”
I shot Luther a look of betrayal and watched as surprise, then doubt, flickered over his face. The strength of my magic was hardly a secret—I wouldn’t have inherited the Crown without it—but that moment in the dungeon had felt like something intimate, something that belonged only to us. I hadn’t even told Teller the details.
“Perhaps this is a mistake,” Luther said slowly. “If the crowd only sees her magic used for a small gesture, they may misunderstand and believe her weak.”
Garath shrugged. “Then she’ll just have to put on a show for them, won’t she?”
Luther started to protest, and Remis cut in. “Garath has a point. A significant display of power here would go a long way in preventing a Challenge, especially after—” He grimaced at my dress. “—this. If we can’t convince them to trust you, we can at least make them fear you.”
His ominous words called to mind the bloody lengths he and Garath had gone to defeat their brother’s enemies and show his strength before Ulther’s Challenging. I very much doubted they would be willing to do the same for me—but I wasn’t certain, and that alone was enough to unsettle me.
“Go on, Your Majesty,” Garath drawled. “Show us what you’re capable of.”
“I’m not as well-trained as the three of you,” I argued. “What if I hurt someone?”
“The arena has a magical barrier protecting the crowd,” Remis said. He gave me a wary once-over. “Perhaps the three of us should retire behind the shield. Just in case.”
He bowed and turned to the stairs, and Garath followed him with a final poisonous smile in my direction.
Luther reached to take my hand. I retreated a step, my heart still stinging from his disclosure.
His brow furrowed. “You can do this. Just do the same thing you did in the dungeon.”
“I don’t even know how I did it then.”
“You struggled to use your magic that night because you didn’t want to use it. You didn’t want to accept what you are. Once you embrace it instead of fighting it, the godhood will answer your call. There won’t be a single soul in Lumnos who would dare Challenge you then.”
His eyes burned into mine with such ferocity that my breath stilled in anticipation. He cautiously stepped closer, and this time, I didn’t pull away.
“Blessed Mother Lumnos chose you for a reason. She saw who you are and what you can be. Prove to all of them what she and I already know—you are capable of this, and so much more.”
Though his voice was a whisper, the strength in it bonded to my bones like living armor.
“Unleash, my Queen. Show this world what it means to Challenge Diem Bellator.”
His use of my name—my real name—was its own kind of spark on a pyre of dry kindling. A fiery rush of emotion blazed through my body. Pride mixed with fear, hope wound with determination.
Luther’s face illuminated in a soft glow. It took me a moment to realize the effect had come from me—from my own skin, which had taken on a shimmering, pearlescent luminance. I looked down at the black fabric of my dress, realizing that it had transformed into a moving shadow of smoky black tendrils. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Luther thumped his fist to his chest in salute.
“Unleash,” he hissed.
He held my stare as he backed away, until finally he bowed low, then departed for the stairs where Remis and Garath now waited.
I swallowed and turned to face the pyre. I listened for the voice I had surrendered to each time my magic had exploded from within me. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it, stirring low in my chest.
I extended my hands in front of me, willing the power to manifest in my palms in the same way I had seen Luther wield it. The eager, watchful eyes of the crowd hovered around me like a fog. I wasn’t sure which they wanted more—a scandalous failure or a spectacular success.
A tingling sparked in the hollow of my ribcage. It swelled and spread until it filled my chest, then my stomach, then bled out into my limbs and trickled through to my hands and feet. The familiar sensation of icy heat began to grow at the heart of my palms.
Luther’s words rang in my ear.
Unleash, my Queen.
My skin glowed brighter with silvery light, forming a halo along the sandy ground where I stood. That night in the dungeon, I had been so terrified to face the reality of being Descended that I hadn’t let myself admit just how good it had felt to let go. How right it seemed that I should wield this power that was my birthright.