The shadows at my dress spilled into a living pool at my feet writhing with furious energy. The tingling was growing stronger. It pulsed over and over as the sensation in my palms intensified.
My eyes lifted to Luther. Despite our very public surroundings, he had dropped his mask, revealing that same genuine, wholly unguarded smile he had given me after I released my magic for the first time. My heart sang at its sight.
Unleash, my Queen.
Sparks swirled around my hand, my excitement rising as I dragged my gaze back toward the pyre.
I could do this. I could show them how strong I was—how dangerous I could be, if pushed. I could be the fearsome Queen that Luther saw in me.
I could deliver a blow the Descended would never forget.
Then my eyes caught on something in the crowd.
A splash of black in the highest rows, tucked behind the royal box. The mortal guests, shoved into a corner to keep them out of sight—and right in Sorae’s direct line of fire, if they dared to make a scene.
My good sense warned me not to look closer. I knew I would see faces I recognized, wearing the same disgust I’d seen on Henri when he’d first found me in the palace.
But restraint was never my strong suit.
Almost instantly, my eyes landed on Maura, seated front and center.
Of course. She was the official palace healer. She had tended to the King for months. If any mortal would be invited to his funeral, it would be her.
Her eyes bulged, her face drained of all color. Her hands wrung fretfully in her lap. She stared at me as if she didn’t know me at all—as if I were some beast about to devour her whole.
My power flickered and dimmed as I grappled to maintain control. Focus, I thought. I’ll find her later and explain. I’ll make her see I’m the same Diem she’s always known.
Again I tried to pull my attention away, but Maura turned, and I followed her line of sight.
Straight to the eyes of my father.
My magic vanished on the wind. My skin turned dull. My palms emptied. My dress faded to plain, unremarkable cloth.
Our last conversation played over and over in my ears.
You are not my father.
It was never more clear how true those words had been. And I’d never wanted so badly to be able to take them back.
He was crying. Even at this distance, I could see it—the bright sun glinting off the wetness on his cheeks.
It shattered me. Cracked me wide open.
I had never seen my father cry. Never. Not when Teller was born, not even after my mother had disappeared. He was steady, he was sure, an immovable force. For our family, he was the mighty shield no arrow could pierce.
But this had broken him.
I had broken him.
I crumpled to my knees, barely hearing the gasp that arose from the crowd. All the grief I had felt at realizing I was Descended came roaring back into me. My hands fell to my side, and a violent tremble took over my body. I felt no glimmer of my magic, no whisper of the godhood’s voice.
Nothing but despair.
Chaos erupted. Mortals whispered and pointed, Descended shouted, royals rushed to the edge of the dais to get a better look. In the corner of my vision, I saw Luther fighting to get to me, Remis and Garath holding him back.
I hung my head, unable to bear the sight of any of it. The world closed in around me, squeezing at my neck until I choked for breath.
A ferocious snarl brought the crowd to instant silence. I heard the flapping of wings, then felt a breeze flutter my hair, followed by a tremor that rattled the dusty arena floor, and a soft, breathy whimper.
I looked up and met Sorae’s golden eyes. With a growl that could crack bones, Sorae reared back and unlocked her jaws. She whipped her head to the side, and a stream of pale blue dragonfyre shot from between her razor-sharp fangs, curling around the pyre.
Within seconds, the King’s body disappeared in an inferno of glittering sapphire flames. The sweltering heat scalded my skin and dragged me unwilling into haunting memories of the armory attack.
I’d almost given in that night. I’d convinced myself my family and friends would be better off without me and the trouble I always seemed to bring, then I’d laid down beside the murdered guard and invited death to fold me into its embrace.
But the voice had refused to give up on me. My godhood had saved my life by forcing me back to my feet and reminding me of the strength that lived inside.
Then I remembered the end—the moment the armory began to collapse. Those last moments, where I’d looked into Luther’s eyes and saw a vision of… what, exactly, I didn’t know. A future that might come to pass, if I had the courage to pursue it.
A destiny.
Suddenly, a solid hand was on my back.
“You need to leave.” Luther’s voice was strained, edged with alarm. “Sorae will take you back to the palace. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
“My father,” I croaked. “He’s here. He saw me.”
His head snapped to the mortal section of the crowd, and his eyes narrowed. He swore softly.
“I have to see him,” I whispered. “I have to explain, I…” My voice cracked.
“I’ll bring him to the palace. You need to go. Now.”
He crouched and offered out his hand, his muscles bunching forward as if he was one second away from scooping me up in his arms and carrying me out. For once, I gave into my weaker urges and leaned against him as we walked side by side to Sorae, needing the strength that poured through his protective aura. He kept his hands firmly locked on my waist as I mounted the gryvern. When I promised him I was secure, he moved to Sorae’s face and stroked a hand down the scaly expanse of her snout.
“Take her home,” he ordered. “Don’t let anyone she distrusts come near her.”
Sorae huffed in agreement. She didn’t waste a second before launching skyward, leaving the glittering, flaming ruby of the arena in our wake.
Chapter
Nineteen
Sorae flew back to the palace at breakneck speed. I curled into her warm fur and focused on stilling my trembling limbs and chattering teeth.
My healer’s instincts wondered if calling forth so much of my power without a release had sent me into some kind of magical shock. It was a painful reminder of how much I still had to learn—about this world, this magic, and even my own body.
I tried to rest, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s tear-streaked face. What would I say to him, when I finally saw him? What could I say?
We approached the palace, and Sorae glided seamlessly onto her perch. I nearly collapsed on wobbling knees as I dismounted, but Sorae swung her long neck under my arms to keep me upright until I made it to a couch near an archway in the parlor.
My sweet gryvern fussed over me like a mother hen. She breathed a fresh fire into the hearth and tugged a blanket over me with her toothy jaws. Only when my tremors stopped and my breathing soothed to a healthier rhythm did she finally stop pacing as if I might perish at any moment. She then took up her role as sentinel, perching stiffly near my side and glaring at the door with wings high.
“You’re supposed to obey my commands, not Luther’s,” I said with a weak smile. “We don’t like him, remember?”
She gave a series of short, angry snorts that sounded like I’m doing my job and You’re a terrible liar.
I reached out and brushed my fingers along the border between her reptilian neck and her leonine body, marveling at the way the dark, iridescent scales faded into coarse fur. “Thank you for helping me. I know you don’t have a choice, but… thank you anyway.”