He huffed a laugh and strode toward me, his demeanor changing entirely. Like the flip of a switch, the hard resolve of the Prince melted from his expression and his taut muscles soothed into a relaxed stance. He leaned against the wall beside me with a single shoulder, arms crossed lightly over his chest.
The mask was off. Even the air around us felt different. Something about it crackled in my blood, quickening my heart.
“You could probably do that, too, you know.”
“Huh?” I mumbled, distracted by the amusement tugging on his lips.
“Create illusions with your magic. With some training, you could do it yourself. Perhaps we both should learn.”
“You can’t do it?”
“Not nearly as well as Alixe. My father demanded my training focus on using magic as a weapon.”
My brows dipped, noting how his expression darkened at that admission.
“That’s a shame. A power like that could come in handy.” A scheming smile crept onto my lips. “I could absolutely terrorize my brother. And Taran.”
His eyes crinkled as he shook his head, trying and failing to look exasperated. “You two got along well today.”
“I like Taran. He seems to be the only Descended in Lumnos who doesn’t care about the Crown.” I gave him a thoughtful look. “I imagine that has something to do with why you two are so close.”
“It does. We both had childhoods that were not particularly pleasant. We swore our loyalty to each other when we were boys, and we’ve never looked back. There’s very little about me he doesn’t know.”
I thought of the journal full of half-mortal children and raised a brow. “Even…？”
Luther nodded, sensing my meaning. “Taran helps get them out, if needed. Alixe, too. Along with your mother, they’re the only ones on the Lumnos side who know.”
“Not even Lily?”
“Especially not Lily.” A hint of his lethal coldness slipped back into place. “If I get caught, she—”
“You won’t,” I said firmly. “Even if you do, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His gaze pierced through me, and my chest tightened. Had I really just promised safety to the very man I’d sworn to destroy?
“Or Lily,” I added quickly. “Or Taran and Alixe. As long as I’m Queen, you’re all safe with me.”
The thick presence of his aura seemed to curl around me, brushing my skin. “You’re safe with me, too.”
Though I—shockingly, inexplicably—believed his words were sincere, it felt more like a lie than anything he’d ever said. There was nothing safe about… this.
The silence hung heavy between us, growing louder by the second.
I looked down and busied my hands with my hair, anxiously twisting the white strands around my finger. I knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I asked my father to come to the House Receptions as my advisor.”
Right on cue, his posture went rigid. He pulled away from the wall and uncrossed his arms.
“He advised Ulther on the mortals,” I hurried out. “I can say he’s here to do the same for me. To keep continuity with the late King’s advisors, like you said.”
I tensed as I braced for his criticism, the quiet stretching on unbearably long.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll make the arrangements.”
I looked up in surprise. “You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”
He hesitated, seeming to weigh his words. “Brutal honesty?”
“Always.”
“It’s not a bad idea, but it is a dangerous one. After today, any connection with the mortals is a risk.”
Doubt coiled in my belly. Pushing family away or keeping them close—it was a swinging pendulum I could never time just right. I was dancing on a never-ending tightrope, forever at risk of leaning too far in one direction.
He took a step closer. “You worried me today, at the funeral.” His voice was soft, almost tender, as he lowered his chin. “Are you alright?”
I tried to find some snappy comeback to tease him or make him laugh, anything to avoid him looking too closely at the weakness I always fought so hard to conceal.
But I couldn’t do it. Whatever his reasons, Luther had begun to let me see him—the real him. And not just his smiles and his laughter, but his fears and his rage and his regrets. The least I could do was offer him the same in return.
I shook my head. “How bad is it?” I whispered.
He shifted forward, then paused, his muscles twitching as he held himself back. “We can fix it. We’ll come up with an explanation. We can arrange another display of your power when you’re ready, or we can—”
“Luther. Brutal honesty, remember?”
He let out a sharp exhale.
“How bad?” I pushed.
“Bad enough.”
I dropped my face into my hands with a muffled groan. “How did I mess this up so quickly? One appearance, and I’ve already signed my death warrant. That has to be some kind of record.”
“Look at me.” His hands wrapped around my wrists and gently pried them from my face as he tugged me closer. “You’re not going to die. I promised you, didn’t I?”
“You did,” I muttered.
“And I told you I always keep my promises.”
“You did.”
He tilted his chin down and gave me a stern look. “Do you trust me?”
For once, I didn’t let myself overthink it.
“I do.” I sighed dramatically. “Against all the odds, despite all my better judgment, somehow… I do.”
He smiled—a true smile, broad and exquisite, his face radiating such matchless brilliance that I pitied the sun.
He keeps smiling at you, Eleanor had said. And those are not the smiles he gives Taran and Lily.
My throat felt thick, the air too heavy. I hadn’t realized how near our bodies had become. So close. Too close. Not close enough.
He can’t keep his hands off you, she’d said.
My senses zeroed in on the way he held my wrists to his chest with such tenderness, so unlike his kiss—that fucking kiss. If I thought on it long enough—which I never allowed myself to do—I could still feel the gritty stone against my back as his body crushed me to the palace wall, the knead of his fingers into my flushed skin, the way his tongue claimed me, branded me, as if it might leave his name on my lips forever.
I felt as trapped now as I had then, frozen in these ice-blue irises that followed me into my most shameful thoughts and dreams. I felt equally as conflicted, too—too scared to confront the emotions that waited within, too weak to turn away from them for good.
His hands tightened around my wrists, just for a moment, just long enough to flood my mind with disgraceful thoughts of that dominant grip on other parts of my body. A gasp escaped with a soft, desperate sound, and his pupils blew wide.
I thought I’d finally found my reprieve when his hold loosened, but Luther had no intention of letting me go. His palms skated up my forearms, then to my elbows, and then the curve of my waist—slowly, torturously slowly, never losing their connection with my body—until he was holding my hips and pulling me, ever so slightly, against him.